Room 205- Lovino Vargas’ Room

Subject: Room 205- Lovino Vargas’ Room Wed Oct 27, 2010 4:04 am

Room 205 is home to a lonely Italian with a lot of issues. Coming from a wealthy background, the accommodations are far less than what he’s used to. His unfamiliar surroundings seem meager even though his request for a softer bed and comforter didn’t go ignored. He has a TV, bookshelf, and desk too. His closet is full of brand-name Italian clothing, but the only other thing that personalizes the space is a worn-looking tambourine sitting on the night table. Lovino hasn’t touched the instrument since arriving there. It’s a gift from his grandfather, the only thing he remembers ever receiving from him besides a burdensome inheritance and a lot of family problems. Still, he keeps it close to him always. The room isn’t so bad, despite his complaints, but even if it was as grand as a five-star hotel room, he wouldn’t care. He’s still alone, separated from the only people who ever cared about him, who are also the ones who ended up sending him here. The bastards…

If they cared about me, they’d let me come home. As much as he hates being here, it’s still a step up from the torture he`s experienced in the last three months. A spoiled person like him is not made for living in the streets, and part of him is almost glad the Carriedos found him. He had gone past their house and the usual places he and Antonio used to hang out in search of his foster brother, but the man had suddenly disappeared, much to Lovino’s shock and dismay. What was the point of going back there if Toni wasn’t around? He never found out what had happened to him, and it infuriated Lovino more than anything. What had been even more suspicious had been Mr. Carriedos’ arm in a sling and ”Mami”’s refusal to even talk about her oldest son. How could Lovino be happy…how could he get better, dammit, not knowing where he was or what had happened to him?

Even though he hates being alone…he can’t bring himself to leave the room. It has been two weeks since he’s come here, and he’s still too nervous to explore the institution. Maybe he’ll muster up the courage soon…or wait for someone to come drag him out.

Admin Posts : 46 Join date : 2010-12-20

Today was going to be different Feliciano told himself. He wasn't going to misplace any important paperwork and get scolded, he was going to be extra careful. Though he had only been here barely two weeks, he had already managed to get yelled at and was not able to do normal things around this asylum like everyone else. No, he was stuck with things like coffee duty. That at least he could do without causing any problems. Though Feliciano hated running around and doing things for other people, it was better than dealing with some of the patients here. Really, he had been all for talking to them but some of the people here downright frightened him and he watched others get violent. It wasn't as fun as he had imagined in the back of his mind. Whatever resident doctor he had latched himself onto that day was never too happy with him for expressing his discomforts. Perhaps being an errand boy wasn't too bad. Being here in general kept his parents happy, in the least.

All things considered, he was very surprised when he came into the asylum today, ready for a day of getting coffees and delivering papers to other sections of the building, but he was given different instructions for once. Instead of his regular meaningless tasks, he was to be dealing with a patient. Before he could say anything opposing it, he had a piece of paper handed to him with very simple information about the patient he was to be spending a visit to. According to the doctor, this patient refused to leave his room, so someone needed to go have a talk with him. The doctor didn't say this aloud, of course, but he knew Feliciano loved talking and there was little room for him to hurt himself this time so it was a good job for him.

Once left alone, he sat in a nearby overly cushioned chair that he had learned to adore. The paper had some very simple information.

❝Name: Lovino Vargas
Room number: 205
Diagnosis: Separation anxiety, severe inferiority complex, and anger management problems

Patient has refused all invitations to leave his room for the past two weeks despite many attempts from doctors and nurses. He needs to leave his room soon, or more immediate action will have to be taken since he needs to attend activities to help him recover.❞

'...well that doesn't sound good.' Feliciano remarked to himself when he was done reading. 'And he has part of my name, that is strange. Maybe he'll like me then.' He didn't think too much of it, since Vargas was a pretty common last name. He prayed to himself that today this patients anger management part of the diagnosis would be under control because he got nervous around too much anger. Tucking the paper safely into his pocket, Feliciano made his way down the eerily white halls in search of room 205. He knew it was around here someplace, as he had paid visits to rooms around the area before.

It only took him a moment to find the door with a plaque appropriately labeled '205'. Taking the paper from his pocket, he gave it a quick read over once more to make sure he remembered the things he was supposed to. Not that Feliciano wasn't happy looking already, but he put on the best smile he could as he knocked on the closed door a few times out of common courtesy before opening the door and letting himself inside. "Hello? Lovino Vargas?" He closed the door behind himself, looking for the male in question, and it didn't take too long to spot him in the small room. Though it was just going to be talking, he had to admit that there was a twinge of a nervous feeling in his stomach.

Subject: Re: Room 205- Lovino Vargas’ Room Wed Jan 12, 2011 2:34 am

Lovino sat on his bed, huddled within a blanket. He hadn’t bothered changing out of his pajamas that morning. The nurses knew he refused to go outside his room, and he didn’t care if they saw him like this. He had at least fixed his hair, but only because he really hated having it a mess. Usually just a wet brush was enough to get it in order, but he could never tame that bit of hair that always managed to stand up so stubbornly.

His clothes clung loosely around his frame, a reminder that he hadn’t been able to eat much lately. His stomach was having trouble readjusting to accepting regular meals. Lovino was lucky if he could manage to keep down half of what he ate. It didn’t help that none of the food he was given was anything like what he was used to. He wished they would serve some pasta or at least something with decent tomatoes, preferably fresh, raw, and sweet, but he just couldn’t build up the nerve to ask, dammit. He avoided talking with the staff as much as he could. The Italian had already convinced himself that no one at this asylum actually liked him; they all just pretended to worry because it was their job to take care of him. Lovino hated everyone here with their fake smiles, their fake concern. You need to eat more, Lovino. You need to come out of your room! Don’t stay cooped up in here! Go out and meet people. Aren’t you lonely in here all by yourself?

If Lovino had been forced to admit it, he would have agreed that yes, he was fucking lonely. Not having anyone else around frightened him, but he’d rather be lonely than forced into the company of strangers- strangers that would stare at him, strangers that would judge him, strangers that would ask him questions he didn’t want to answer because it was none of their fucking business who he was, why he was here, or even what he liked and disliked. Conversations he had with people he didn’t know never lasted long. This room wasn’t the only thing closing Lovino off from the rest of the world – the Italian often felt trapped within himself. Toni was still the only person the man had ever felt completely comfortable with, at least that he could remember. No one had known him half as long or as well as his foster brother had. How could anyone else understand how he felt?

Lovino stared at the tambourine on his night table. He ran his fingers lightly over its worn surface, touching it for the first time since he had arrived and placed it there. The instrument was something precious to him, a reminder that he had once had a life that was now so blurry in his memory that he almost didn't believe it had existed. What had it been like? Lovino liked to think that it had been happier than it probably was in reality, a golden age of warmth and comfort shared with the grandfather that had loved him enough to give him that tambourine and a brother whose face and name he could barely remember but who must have loved him too - because he was his twin. Lovino wish he could remember something about either of them, the sound of their voices, something they had said, or even just a moment they had shared. Instead, all he had was that tambourine to remember his grandfather and for his brother, well, nothing more than his reflection. He remembered that he used to play in front of a mirror as a very young child, pretending to talk to his twin, but that game had come to an end quickly after he had heard his relatives praising and comparing the other boy to him. Sometimes even now, the mirror made him feel bitter, but nowadays, it was mostly caused by the dislike he felt for the actual person he saw staring back at him.

Lovino shook slightly. He had spit out his damn pills that morning when the nurse wasn't looking. The dose was rarely strong enough to stop his shaking completely, but without the medication and with so little food in his body, he was much worse off. The tremors were hard to control, and it almost looked as if he was cold, trembling beneath the blanket. Lovino took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. He wasn't sure why he shook so much. He hadn't been like this before his homelessness, but the experience had traumatized him so badly that even now in the relative comforts of the asylum, it wouldn't go away. Until he was home, Lovino was convinced it would never cease, and maybe it was this kind of stubborn thinking that kept him from being cured.

Lovino was interrupted from his thoughts by a light knocking on the door. He tensed up, even though he knew it was usually the more polite staff members that knocked before entering, probably one of the women he tended to be kinder to. However, when the door opened, the Italian frowned, seeing a young man enter the room instead.

He studied the intruder carefully, knowing right away that he wasn't one of the regular visitors. When he spoke to Lovino, he noticed he had kind of a high voice, with an accent that sounded surprisingly like his own. He was dressed nicely and looked very well put together, but when Lovino got to his face and finally looked him in the eyes, he froze. There it was - that face in the mirror. Not exactly, there were some subtle differences - the stranger's hair was slightly lighter and even though their eyes looked similar, they were brighter and looked more cheerful than Lovino's ever were. Still, it took Lovino a moment to recover as he stared at the other man before a suspicious look replaced his surprised one, and he muttered something low under his breath.

"What do you want?"

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It was rude to stare. Feliciano was well aware of this common rule of politeness. He remembered his new father telling him that many times as he grew up, but something right now made that oh so simple rule hard to follow. It was strange, the male sitting on the bed looked almost familiar. This was silly to think of course. He has just read his name on a piece of paper then walked here, the two males had no way of coming in contact with one another before this second. But why then? For a second the male who called himself Lovino Vargas of room 205 almost looked like Feliciano himself. He had darker hair, different eyes, a bit more tan, but the similarities were enough for even someone as air headed as himself to catch on to right away.

Oh right. Staring was rude. Especially when you were doing it with an awkward silence.

He prayed in his head that the patient hadn't noticed his rudeness, because he didn't want to scare him. With a small shake of the head, Feliciano tried to clear all odd thoughts from his head and took a few steps towards the other male to close the distance between them. He figured he was just getting a bit weird himself after being around so many people with mental issues. "I wanted to talk to you, Mr. Vargas!" he said in the best happy voice he could muster, wanting Lovino to cheer up. What the other man had said wasn't exactly the most kind greeting in the world is he was good at listening to mumbles....which he wasn't really.

Still, there was a certain awkwardness to his laugh. "It is kind of funny." he continued on, even though that the patient looked far from amused. "My name is Mr. Vargas-Moretti. What a coincidence, huh?" Feliciano found it necessary to give the statement a light wave at the end, just to show how odd it was. At least Lovino would be able to remember his name since they were so similar. As he spoke, he watched the other male for any signs of a smile or any other emotion than the grumpiness that seemed to be stuck on his face. Though his hair was nice, he still looked almost like he had just rolled out of bed, meaning that the doctors probably weren't lying about him not wanting to leave. It was kind of sad. "You can call me Mr. Vargas too if you would like. It will be easier for you to remember!" Plus, he kind of liked the shortened version anyways.

So there he stood, silly smile on his face, waiting for some kind of response from the other Vargas. Perhaps he just didn't like the other doctors and nurses, and needed some nice coaxing out of his room. He knew from experiences that some of the people here weren't all too kind and understanding.

Subject: Re: Room 205- Lovino Vargas’ Room Fri Jan 14, 2011 10:14 pm

It was bad enough that there was a stranger in his room. Part of Lovino had wanted him to leave as soon as he walked in even though it would mean he’d be alone again. But here the intruder was, not only invading his space, but also starting at him the way Lovino hated to be stared at most- with curiosity and confusion and even a bit of pity. He shifted beneath his blanket, pulling it tighter around himself and was almost tempted to hide under it if it wouldn’t have made him look so stupid. He frowned at the other man, hating him for making things so awkward, but at the same time, understanding why it was. That man could see the similarities in him too.

If it is him, somehow…would he remember me? Lovino wondered. He couldn’t even recall his brother’s first name clearly, only that it started with a “F.” Most people had just referred to him as “your brother” in front of him and “that boy” when they thought he wasn’t listening. That boy is so talented. He’s such a good artist. He gets along with everyone. He’s always so cheerful. Nothing like Lovino. Bitterness began to settle in, but it was overshadowed by the confusion that was currently clouding his mind. Lovino was still thinking of the strangeness of the man’s familiar physical appearance before he was started out of his thoughts by motion across the room. The stranger was approaching him.

Instinctively, Lovino moved backwards on the bed, scooting away as the man came closer and keeping a wary, indirect gaze settled on him. Even if he looked like him, the patient didn’t trust him. This was just too weird, too confusing. It only got worse when the staff member told Lovino his name and the Italian’s eyes widened incredulously. “Vargas”? Was this a fucking joke? They were messing with him- that had to be it. Was it some twisted attempt to gain his trust? Or were they doing this to him so he’d think that he was insane, that he really belonged in this nuthouse? I haven’t even left the room and I’m already catching the crazy, dammit, he thought sulkily. For the sake of his sanity, he’d have to go along with this as if it was just a coincidence. After all, the stranger’s name wasn’t exactly identical to his own. There was still that “Moretti” tacked on there, though it bothered Lovino that even this name sounded vaguely familiar. Not that he could remember where he’d heard it before.

He frowned at “Mr. Vargas” for suggesting he use that name. Didn’t he know it was strange to call someone the same thing you were called? No…At least in his head, he’d just have to think of him as “Moretti.” He was tempted to ask the man’s first name, but couldn’t bring himself to for some reason. Maybe he was scared of what he’d hear, that it’d ring a bell somewhere in his muddled memory and make him believe that he’d really found his twin. So impossible… Lovino wouldn’t give into his misled imagination.

Why was this guy so damned cheerful? Lovino hated it. Other people’s happiness always seemed so fake when it was directed at him. Why should anyone be glad to see him? Lovino was too insecure to ever feel like they really meant it. It was all just an act, he knew this and yet…this man’s spirit and causeless joy reminded him so much of someone else he knew. The one he missed so damn much.

“I don’t want to talk,” he grunted, shoulders slumping in depression. “I know why you’re here, and just because you put on that stupid smile and tell me to call you my own name doesn’t mean I’m gonna like you any more than the others. I’m not going anywhere, dammit! Those freaks can stay out there where they belong…”

He trembled as he spoke and wouldn’t look the other Vargas in the eyes. While roaming, his gaze landed suddenly on the man’s hair, and at this closer proximity, he was shocked to see a strand sticking out, much like his own, but in a different place. He stared at it as if entranced, unable to look away from this hallucination, because of course it wasn’t real, dammit, but shit, he was seeing it. It was there. Lovino couldn’t believe anyone trying to trick him would go this far. No fucking way. He pressed his back against the wall, frowning down at the sheets. If this is what being stuck in here did to him, was it really such a good idea to stay?

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He couldn't quite place why, but that look the other male was giving him was making the intern a bit uncomfortable. He was already nervous enough being alone in here with someone unfit to live outside with everyone else. Whenever patients stared at staff members, or other people for that for that matter, in such a way, it normally wasn't good! This was supposed to be easy. Judging by the frown on Lovino's face, the face that they both had the same last name didn't amused him as much as it amused (and admittedly confused) himself. 'Was it because I used my full last name? Maybe I made him angry!' With a small gulp, he certainly hoped not because he didn't want an angry patient.

All he wanted to do was help. Why was it so hard? Now that he was closer, Feliciano could tell that Lovino really hadn't left his room. The other doctor and that piece of paper he was given really hadn't been lying. He felt a bit bad for the other male. It looked like they didn't even feed the poor guy anything. He was pretty sure that there was no rule here was said you weren't allowed to eat if you didn't leave your room.

After saying what he thought were kind words to Lovino, Feliciano was a bit taken aback when he heard the response. Really, what had he said wrong? He was well aware of the fact that he tended to say awkward statements at times, but all he had done so far was introduce himself and say one thing. There was no way he deserved to be sworn at for it. His smile faltered for a moment, but was still evident on his face. It wasn't stupid. His face always looked like that! Feliciano was the one being insulted...so why was Lovino the one backing away now?

"You shouldn't call the other patients names! You have to go outside with all the other people sometime or the doctors won't let you home for a long time. And please don't swear at me." Though he clearly had no children of his own to discipline, it was a weird feeling. It almost felt like he was scolding a child or something of the sort. Was this what it was like to be in charge? As much as Lovino said he didn't want to talk, he was talking by stating he didn't want to, so Feliciano wasn't complaining. Sure everyone here was a bit broken but they were not freaks. This guy was weird, considering he was a patient here.

Feliciano didn't like the other brunette sitting there looking so sad like that! It was making him panic a bit on the inside. 'Did...did I break him?!' was all that could go through his mind. Once again, he reasoned that he hardly said anything yet so there was no way he broke him! Still, the longer he looked at Lovino, the more his panic was a bit more visible on the outside even if he had a smile on. "Ve, you can call me what ever you want then!" Clearly the matching Vargas names was an oddly unexpected failure. Maybe that would cheer him up and get Lovino out of that slump of sadness. He wasn't really sure what else he would be calling him though.

Subject: Re: Room 205- Lovino Vargas’ Room Wed Jan 19, 2011 12:04 am

Oh, I have a lot of names for you, dumbass, Lovino thought, but he didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he just glared at the other man, resenting the scolding he had just received. He wasn’t a fucking kid, dammit, and he didn’t appreciate being treated like one.

“I’ll talk however I want, bastard,” he growled. “Don’t you fucking tell me what to do…”

Though his words were tough, inside, the Italian was still very nervous. He wanted to rebel against this man, to let him know exactly how he felt about being locked up in here and treated like a child who couldn’t look after himself, but at the same time, he was so afraid. What would happen if he kept mouthing off to people like this? What would they do to him if he kept refusing to leave this room? They’ll force you out, a voice inside his head told him. Either that or they’ll give you what you want and leave you locked up in here- forever. Lovino’s eyes watered up at the thought. He wanted to go home, dammit. But even this jerk had said that he’d be kept here for a long time if he didn’t leave the room.

Lovino could feel himself shaking beneath the blanket. Shit…He didn’t want this guy to hate him, but there was no way in hell he was apologizing now. He was still convinced someone was trying to play a trick on him. This guy was just too cheerful to be real. Part of Lovino longed to throw a stream of insults in his direction to wipe that stupid smile off his face, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. There was something new bothering him, a sound that the other “Vargas” had made, but it had been so quick and unexpected that now Lovino couldn’t even remember what he had heard. He looked back up at the man’s face to see what kind of reaction his harsh words had earned him and saw the same hurt look as if Lovino had done him a great injustice. There was also a bit of panic that he was sensing from the other man that made him more uncomfortable.. The fake smile couldn’t hide that from his eyes. The patient curled his lip, fighting back his tears and all feelings of guilt in order to keep up his defensive act.

“Calling you the same thing people call me is too damn weird,” he informed him. “So to me, you’re just Moretti. Got it?”

He tried to straighten himself up, to look more commanding and in control, but the tremors kind of killed the effect. He wouldn’t be surprised if the man never came back and there was no need to give him a name anymore. Lovino knew he was a handful to deal with; he had known it ever since he was young and all his relatives would pass him around, attracted by his inheritance only long enough to realize that they couldn’t handle his personality. Even the Carriedos had let him go now…and Lovino had always considered them the exception. Why should anyone else stick around? Dammit, he didn’t want to be alone forever. His look had softened now, asking for a bit of forgiveness or at least some acceptance that he wasn’t even sure the rest of him even wanted. It’s not like I deserve it anyway, Lovino thought bitterly. If he even talks to me anymore, it’ll just be because it’s his damned job.

Admin Posts : 46 Join date : 2010-12-20

Apparently this guy lacked the ability to listen. Really, he needed to learn to act nicer. This guy was really getting a good number of offences stacked against him!

That tone that he was being spoken to in was making him feel rather uneasy, and a bit sad. No one ever really listened to him, and here he was supposed to at least have some authority over patients but he just seemed to fail time and time again. He was well aware of the fact that he was far from the most intimidating man ever and was very new to this, but thought he was trying his hardest and deserved some type of respect from at least one person in the building. It wasn't fair...he hated being talked down to really, but it happened so often that he eventually grew used to it being a natural part of life.

Feliciano opened his mouth as if to say something in defense before quickly stopping with a small noise of slight desperation. He was horrible at reprimanding people but knew that he really had to speak up in defense. "No, you are supposed to listen to doctors and I am telling you to talk nicer. So please do, alright?" Sure he wasn't actually a doctor of any type yet, but he could try to trick Lovino. He didn't know anything about him. "Maybe if you are nice and listen to the doctors, they will be nice to you back." Feliciano hoped that could at least convince the other brunette to listen to him for the time being. It wasn't that the staff here was mean to the patient in front of him, he was sure of it.

Now that he looked at Lovino, he looked a little shaky. His mind associated the act of shaking with being scared, and for a moment Feliciano wondering if he was somehow scary to the other man. Really though, he was pretty sure he was more afraid than him, even if he was the only one of the two with any sign of cheerfulness coming from them. And now apparently he was being scolded by a patient.

Letting out a small disappointed laugh, he continued. "Yeah, I guess you are right, it is kind of weird, huh?" As he spoke, he felt a little awkward lying like that and rubbed his own neck with his hand. Really, he thought the matching names were pretty cool. "Well if Lovino wants to call me Mr. Moretti, than I guess you can~!" He brought his hands together, tilting his head lightly to the side and smiling at him with closed eyes for a moment. Feliciano did promise that Lovino could call him whatever he wished, but he kind of wished it was one of the pieces of his name that had actually belonged to him longer than the rest...

Oh! That was right, he wasn't here for introducing himself. He was here to coax this guy out of his room. "So, did I make you want to leave yet? It is a beautiful day out there! I wonder what the cafeteria is serving, don't you?" With this, he motioned back to the door he had walked in through. Admittedly, he didn't ever eat that food and brought his own but Lovino didn't know that. "You look like you could use some more food." Examining the other male's still shaking form, he definitely believed he needed some food.

Subject: Re: Room 205- Lovino Vargas’ Room Mon Jan 24, 2011 6:09 pm

Doctor? Like hell Lovino believed that bullshit. He wasn’t even sure this Moretti guy was a real nurse. What, then? An orderly? Just some random bastard? The possibility of an intern didn’t even cross his mind; Lovino was too busy thinking of how amusing it would be to mock the man with the title of “doctor” when he was sure it didn’t belong to him. If the guy really was a doctor, he would have introduced himself as one instead of asking Lovino to call him “mister” anyway. He'd be lucky if he even got that much respect out of the patient. He wasn't going to be "nice" just because some not-doctor told him so.

Lovino glared at Moretti when he started patronizing him, the stupid man. Did he look like a fucking four-year-old?! The Italian was starting to get angrier. He fought to control himself, though. He knew what would happen if he let himself go over the edge- things would get broken, people could get hurt. No…he couldn’t let that happen. People here already thought he was crazy enough, dammit.

“I told you I’m not going anywhere,” he growled. “Especially not for that crap they serve here. I’d rather fucking starve.”

That wasn’t entirely true, he knew. Lovino was bluffing, but really, the food here hadn’t impressed him. He may have been deprived of good food for the past three months, but that didn’t mean he could just start eating any old thing. He longed to go back to his old standards- to the delicious Spanish food the Carriedos used to make and, if somehow possible, the Italian food he had grown up on during the first half of his life- but he knew the chances of that were slim to none. The staff hadn’t been able to get a request out of him, so really, it was Lovino’s own fault, but the Italian had so little faith in their ability to produce anything close to what he was used to, that he didn’t bother asking. How horrible would it be to ask for something he loved and wind up with some imitation that only left him sick with disappointment? No, it just wasn’t happening…

Lovino didn’t comment on his condition. More food wasn’t the solution- better food was. The food that had been brought to him obviously didn’t sit well in his stomach more than half the time. It’s not like he had been throwing up the stuff on purpose. He felt stupid, pathetic, weak…like some malnourished little boy that didn’t even care enough to get better. Maybe he did deserve to be treated like a kid after all, dammit…He felt his eyes water over, and a tear finally managed to escape down the side of his face. Lovino cursed under his breath and wiped it away quickly with the back of his hand, hoping the man had missed it. His face was flushed red in embarrassment at the though that this so-called “doctor” may have seen him cry through those stupid squinty little eyes of his.

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Well, there was that defensive growl again, not so surprisingly it was accompanied by more vulgar words. This Lovino here really needed to learn that those words were not for using in situations like this. Maybe someone taught him English wrong. Feliciano talking about food like this was a bit hypocritical. He was well aware that the food served to patients was far from luxurious. Feliciano really wasn't a liar. No, at times he could be brutally honest. Especially now, how could he expect Lovino to trust him if he was a big liar? "Hm, if you were not swearing again, I would tell you that even though the food kind of tastes horrible, you have to eat it!" This really wasn't what Lovino needed to hear, but at least it was honest, and that made him proud. Doctors weren't really liars, but they did tell their patients odd things. He was sure he had even been a victim of it himself in his lifetime...even if he had never been to a mental asylum as a patient before...no matter how insistent his new father was that poor Feliciano's brain was a bit off.

Feliciano took a few steps closer to the other male's shaking form, waving a finger lightly at him. "Please go eat, you are going to get sick. You don't want to end up in a hospital for sick people, do you?" Not that this place was fun, but being transferred over to a real hospital with blood and dead people was far more scary. Even if this Lovino guy was really rude, he wouldn't wish that fate upon him. No matter how rude he was, Feliciano didn't want it.

For some reason, though he was trying his best to be friendly, it didn't seem to be working. He didn't catch the tear that fell from the patient's eye, but he could still tell that he wasn't being perky in the least. What was he doing wrong? This wasn't fair. Feliciano was really trying his hardest. He had heard doctor's talking about some patients in the hospital being hard to deal with and they end up being here for their entire lives. Was Lovino one of those people? He wasn't frowning, really, but that air of happiness was a bit off. He was trying to hard and it really broke his heart to see that it was all useless.

"C-come on Lovino! Cheer up, it is a nice day outside. Maybe if you eat they will let you explore outside for a while!" To emphasize his point, he walked over to the small window in the room, peeking out of it where the light shined through. It was nothing like actually being outside, but it would do. It really was a nice day outside. He meant for this to prove his point that Lovino should be outs. Odd thing was, as he gazed out the window it was rather clear that Feliciano himself would rather have been outside.

Subject: Re: Room 205- Lovino Vargas’ Room Thu Feb 03, 2011 10:09 am

Lovino continued to glare as the other man spoke, though Moretti admitting that the food here really was horrible caught him a bit off guard. Was he really still trying to convince him to eat that shit?! Lovino buried his face in his hand and grabbed onto his hair, tempted to pull it out. This guy really was a fucking idiot. Why had the doctors sent him? Obviously the man had no powers of persuasion, and his overly-happy act wasn’t doing anything to make Lovino more comfortable or likely to open up to him. The Italian didn‘t believe that he really cared whether he ate the food or not. As the intruder came closer to him, Lovino scooted away further, until his back was pressed up against the wall next to the window that hung by his bed.

The idea of being sent to a real hospital made him shudder. He had already experienced that- right after he had been found sick and malnourished on the streets. He wouldn’t be able to stand being in another strange place, stuck in a bed with machines and needles and strangers putting their hands on him…If Moretti was trying to scare him with the idea, it was working. Lovino couldn’t help but start to tremble harder. He didn’t have anywhere left to move when the other man approached his window to take a look out of it. It seemed he had gone from trying to intimidate Lovino to trying to bribe him with the idea of fake freedom. The Italian scoffed. Outside? Really? He had had enough of the fucking outdoors. Living out there, sleeping out there, eating whatever he could find out there…No, the idea of leaving his somewhat soft bed, clean bathroom and protective if not confining shelter didn’t appeal to him at all if it was going to be traded for that- a walk in some courtyard where he’d be watched, still confined, and no closer to going back home. If he wanted some sunshine and fresh air, he’d just open the fucking window and let it come to him, dammit.

Just stop talking, bastard. It fucking hurts my brain to listen to you, Lovino wanted to say. But when words finally were able to leave his exasperated mouth again, they didn’t come out in English, like they had been speaking, but in a language more comforting to him.

“Stronzate,” he muttered almost too low to hear. “Perché t'importa se mi ammalo? Solo mi stai dicendo che perché il suo il tuo lavoro de cazzo. Non ho bisogno della tua simpatia falso, bastardo. Vai folleggiare là fuori da solo.”

He didn’t expect Moretti to understand him, but it felt good just to get it out. Speaking Italian usually calmed him down because it felt so natural and familiar- a sound from his childhood that he rarely heard anymore, but could never forget. When he had finished, he turned away from the other man and lay down on his bed, facing the wall. He pulled the covers up over himself and buried his face in his pillow. His shaking was subsiding a bit, but he still felt pretty miserable. He couldn’t quiet his rumbling stomach, and the thought that he was even considering eating anything after talking with this jackass made him feel bitter and angry. You don’t have to keep trying so hard, “Doctor.” If I starve to death, that’s one less thing for you to worry about. Lovino hated thinking like this and being so self-deprecating, but it was a part of his life he had unfortunately begun to get used to.

Translation: “Bullshit. What do you care if I get sick? You’re only telling me that because it’s your fucking job. I don’t need your fake sympathy, bastard. Go frolic out there by yourself.”

Admin Posts : 46 Join date : 2010-12-20

At first, Feliciano hardly noticed that the patient he was supposed to be persuading to leave was backing away from him as much as possible while staying in his bed. All he noticed was the nice day that it was outside the small window. Though he spent a lot of time indoors, he really did love out there more. Sadly, this patient here didn't give off the impression of being a great lover of outdoors. It took a moment for him to actually notice Lovino with his back against the wall. Feliciano turned his attention from the scenery outside and actually focused on the other male.

What as he doing? Once again, Feliciano was sure that he was far from scary or intimidating in any way. Often, it was the opposite way with him being the one who was scared with his back against the wall places. It was still a horribly unfamiliar feeling that seemed to come hand in hand with working at this mental asylum. People didn't want to be near him. It was hard, considering the Italian was the type who thrived on human contact.

He couldn't figure out what he had said that was wrong. The only thought that could cross his mind was that maybe this man hated disgusting food as much as Feliciano himself did, making what he said a bit frightening to the other Vargas. Or maybe this guy really was afraid of outside? No, that would just be strange. Then again, this was a mental asylum. People here certainly did have the unfortunate nickname of 'strange'.

His attempt at deciphering Lovino's actions was cut short, however, by speaking. Feliciano loved talking, and he never found it surprising when other people wanted to talk. He liked it. There was something glaringly obvious about this that speaking that caught Feliciano's attention off guard. Even if Lovino was speaking in a shushed, harsh tone, there was no mistaking it. That wasn't English; that was Italian. For a brief moment, Feliciano looked like a deer in headlights. It didn't matter how natural it was to hear Italian, he wasn't expecting it. And most of all, since it was in his native language, there was no mistake in translating the insults from the other male. That was what hurt. He had noticed Lovino's accent before, of course, but still...

Feliciano's face fell into a bit of an uncharacteristic frown. Everything he had been saying was genuine and from his heart. He wasn't lying here. Did Lovino really think that...? "No..." he paused, thinking of what to say to that horrible accusation. "Non è così!" It wasn't at all. "Non è una bugia. Voglio solo che tu sia felice e normale." This probably sounded harsh, but it wasn't meant that way. It was rather obvious that he was a little hurt by Lovino's words. But then, he looked almost sympathetic. "Poi si può andare a casa per la tua famiglia." Yes, Lovino could go home to his family who probably missed him dearly. Feliciano didn't know that Lovino's life was just as complicated as his own in more ways than just coincidence.

He watched the other male flop into the pillow, wishing that this man would stop being so rude. This wasn't going to get him anywhere. Stepping a bit closer to the bed, Feliciano gave a light and hesitant tug on the covers. "Vieni fuori da lì~" No. Feliciano wouldn't be going anywhere by himself after this.

_{Translation: "That isn't it! It isn't a lie. I just want you to be happy and normal."
"Then you can go home with your family"
"Come out from there~"}

Subject: Re: Room 205- Lovino Vargas’ Room Sat Feb 19, 2011 2:38 am

Lovino closed his eyes tightly, escaping into a dark, black world where no one could hurt him or tell him what to do. It was the only place he was in control. He wished the other man would just disappear and leave him alone. Couldn’t he see Lovino didn’t want to listen to him anymore? At the same time, that annoying, lonely feeling tugged at him, begging him not to chase away the only human presence available to him at the moment. Something about this man was different from the rest of the staff he had met so far…but the Italian still couldn’t place what it was. He was just as fake as the rest of them; why should Lovino trust him any more than the others? Still, he couldn’t shake that stabbing feeling of regret the moment he had turned away and seen that sad expression on the other’s face. His mind flashed to the mirror, the same face frowning back at him, and Lovino had to push the image away to keep himself from falling for the illusion that this man was somehow someone he knew.

And then, he spoke. Lovino stiffened beneath the covers as he heard Italian- how many years had it been? -come from the other man’s mouth. He couldn’t believe it. His shaking stopped. He stared at the wall, eyes widened, and part of him wanted to turn around to confirm that it really was this man who was speaking his native language and not just another trick of his imagination. The patient stayed still, however. He listened to Moretti’s words and felt his eyes start to water. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from crying, he pulled up the covers even further, until his head was buried underneath them. It was a bit stuffier as the colder air was cut off and replaced by the warmth of his breath, but Lovino really didn’t want the other man to see the mess he had become as the staff member reminded him of what he had lost and what he had become now.

"P-perché?" he choked. "Perché nessuno pensi che io sia normale? I-Io sono normale! Io sono! Io non sono un mostro. Non c'è niente di sbagliato in me ... Io non appartengo a questo posto con questi pazzi. D-dannazione! Voglio solo, voglio solo andare a casa."

He sobbed into his pillow, pressing his face against the wet fabric. Was it a crime not to want to be alone? Did needing someone around in order for him to feel safe make him sick? You need help, Mrs. Carriedo had told him at the hospital, after she and Mr. Carriedo had found him. You’re an adult now, Lovino. You need to learn to be independent and stand on your own without always having Antonio there to hold you up. I’m sorry. I can’t tell you where he is right now. But if you go to this place and let them help you get better, maybe he’ll be here when you get out.

Liar. They never expected him to be released. They had thrown him away, just like everyone else before them. The Carriedos were no different. The Carriedos didn’t love him. The Carriedos didn’t even want him. That’s why he was locked up here and out of their lives. And Antonio…Where was Antonio? Had he abandoned him too? No, no, Toni never would…He refused to believe it. Toni would come back. He had to! He would…Lovino was too lost in his own depressing thoughts to pay attention to the footsteps coming up beside his bed or the hand tugging the blanket off of him gently.

Immediately, Lovino gripped the fabric tighter and pulled it back, away from the other’s hold. He rolled himself up into a cocoon and pushed his nose to the wall, leaving just a small opening near his mouth to let in some air. He choked back a sob, realizing how miserable and pathetic he must look. Moretti would give up on him soon and leave him here to sulk just like all the others before him. There was no doubting it.

“Lasciami in pace,” he mumbled in his hurt, quaky voice. “Non ho famiglia. Non più. Non si capirebbe, bastardo. Tu non sai cosa vuol dire per le persone a rinunciare a te. Stai perdendo il tuo tempo con me. Io non sono ne vale la pena, quindi basta andare.”

He didn’t really want the other man to go. Despite how upset Moretti’s words made him, it was still Italian. His reluctance to listen had been doused. Part of him wanted to hear more. He wanted to remember. If he closed his eyes, maybe he could imagine he was back in his homeland, living in that golden age, that renaissance that had been forgotten. He imagined the beat of his tambourine, the clinging of the small cymbals while his brother laughed in the background. Which brother…? Lovino couldn’t tell if it was Toni or the twin he had lost.

Crying more quietly now, the Italian’s sobs turned to hiccups, and he lay there miserably, expecting to hear footsteps fading away and the door slam shut at any moment. Even though Moretti hadn’t gone yet, the patient was already starting to feel the sinking hollow feeling he experienced whenever he was left alone. He wished he knew how to make it go away.

Translation: “W-why? Why doesn’t anyone think I’m normal? I-I am normal! I am! I’m not a monster. There’s nothing wrong with me…I don’t belong here with these freaks. D-dammit! I just, I just want to go home.”

“Just leave me alone. I have no family. Not anymore. You wouldn't understand, bastard. You don't know what it's like to have people give up on you. You're wasting your time on me. I'm not worth it, so just go.”

Admin Posts : 46 Join date : 2010-12-20

Feliciano had really meant the best with his words, he didn't mean to make the other man upset. He never wanted to make anyone upset, though he wasn't always the best at it. He had been here such a short period of time that he never really got the opportunity to see one of these people who were stuck in this place leave and go home to their family. In his head, it played out like a nice little movie scene. That was all he wanted for someone else. Or was that what he wanted for himself? Something like out of a movie. It sounded silly, but if it couldn't happen for him, he could at least make sure it did for someone else.

He never called this poor guy a monster...

It was odd though that Lovino was saying all this though. Even a child knew that people only checked into mental hospitals when something was wrong with them, meaning that in some sense they were not the perfect definition of a normal human being. Why couldn't Lovino see it? There was a huge difference between being different than normal and a complete monster. When he pulled the blanket back, he was indeed successful at first. Feliciano's mind was too busy juggling exactly what to say and do that wouldn't get him fired on the spot since his ideas were always a bit out there. He himself wasn't exactly normal to regular people either.

It was rather sad to watch as he awkwardly stood there. Lovino was clearly extremely upset, it didn't take a genius to figure that out. "N-non essere triste!" Even if the other Vargas was currently buried under the blankets, he found himself making a motion with his hands for the patient to calm down. "Non ho detto nulla di male, volevo solo dire che tu...hai bisogno di essere meglio in modo da poter tornare fuori." That still probably sounded wrong, but once again, he meant it with the best intentions. "Non ci sono mostri a qui. Sono sicuro che sei bella quando non si è scontroso!" It almost sounded as if he was begging or trying to reason with him. Surely it was just being cooped up in here that made him loud and full of swears. That was it.

Feliciano let out a small noise of rather obvious discomfort at the last part of what the other male was saying. Family...yes, Feliciano had a family. People to go back home too...but was that enough to make it a family? Feliciano had no mother or father living on this earth anymore. He had even managed to lose his own twin brother somehow. This was was just a replacement in his heart, as much as he was grateful for his 'new' parents. This is why Lovino's words were particularly harsh on poor Feliciano's heart. He hated to think to hard about it all because it was really too much for him to handle. The poor boy was too sensitive for his own good, and for a moment was glad that the other man was under the covers and couldn't see him. He was sure that there was a slight hint of tears in the corners of his own eyes. Sure, Lovino had said 'give up' which no one had really done with him but it was still enough to make him upset. And poor Lovino here had no family too? How horrible...

He tried to get over it with a few light sniffles and a rub of the eyes. "Io so cosa vuoi dire..." it came out as a light mumble at first. He hated talking to a blanket, that was what it felt like he was doing now. Once again, Feliciano tugged on the blankets hiding the other male from sight, harder than last time. "Appena uscito da lì così possiamo parlare un po ', per favore!" It was odd that the two seemed to have so much in common, and it made Feliciano feel even worse for Lovino, but at the same time he just yearned to talk with him more for some strange reason. "Mi dispiace! Non sapevo che lei non ha una famiglia...che è sempre triste, ma sono sicuro che avete qualcuno che vi vuole tornare a casa." Just like his own home, right?

_{"D-don't be sad!"
"I didn't say anything bad, I just meant that you...you need to be better so you can go back outside."
"There are no monsters in here. I am sure you are nice when you are not grumpy!"

"I know what you mean..."

"Just come out from there so we can talk a little, please!"
"I am sorry! I didn't know that you did not have a family...that is always sad but I am sure you have someone that wants you to go home."}

Subject: Re: Room 205- Lovino Vargas’ Room Tue Mar 22, 2011 10:16 am

Lovino’s patience was growing shorter by the second. He had been slightly more tolerant with this Moretti guy than he usually was with most people, but the other Italian was being so fucking persistent that it was really starting to piss him off. He had been surprised at first when Moretti hadn’t left as he had expected him to. Lovino couldn’t exactly say that he felt touched by the other man’s dedication, but at least he stopped feeling so empty, knowing the Italian would be around for at least a bit longer. The feeling was quickly accompanied by annoyance, however, as the other man continued to argue with him and went so far as to call him “grumpy.” Lovino gritted his teeth and twitched beneath the blanket. Grumpy? He could show him grumpy…

He could hear the other man’s whines and a soft sound that sounded like sniffling. Good! Let him cry, dammit! But with his own tears still fresh, the Italian couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty for the hurt his words might have caused- as much as he hated to admit it. Dammit, why?! Usually he let his mouth run without giving a fuck about it. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t meant what he’d said. Whoever received his curses always deserved them, right? But with this man, it was different somehow. Maybe it was because he was so whiny and pathetic- it made Lovino feel like an ass. He was so used to people degrading him and pushing him around, but being the bad guy instead didn’t satisfy Lovino as much as he thought it would. Where was the victory in cussing out another wimp? And a fellow Italian at that…the only one he had met in a very long time.

“I know what you mean…” Seriously? Did this guy really think he had any clue? Sure, Lovino didn’t know anything about his background or family situation, but there was no way he could know what he was going through. If he did, he’d be locked up in here too, not walking free with a smile on his face, trying to tell people to cheer up and go out into the world that had done this to him.

Lovino had his head buried in the pillow beneath the blanket. He was tempted to bite into the puffy fabric and grind his teeth around it to work off his frustration, but he was glad he refrained because the next moment, his protective blanket shield was being yanked away again.

“B-basta!” he choked, voice still raw from crying. He tried to get a grip on the fabric again, but his hands were clumsy, and he found he couldn’t hold onto it as strongly as before. His heart started thumping in panic as the blanket was pulled out of his grip and his face was exposed to the light and fresh air of the room once more. He instinctively raised a hand to cover the other man’s view of his features and turned away, refusing to look at Moretti with eyes that were still red and swollen from tears. Lovino rolled onto his side, facing the wall, and hiding his face with one hand.

“P-Perché stai facendo questo?” he sobbed into his palm. “Perchè non mi ascolti?”

He had already told the other Italian that he wasn’t worth his time, but obviously Moretti hadn’t believed him seeing as the man was still here. Why was he bothering with him? Didn’t the idiot see Lovino was a hopeless case?

“Ti sbagli, bastardo. Non c'è nessuno che mi aspetta là fuori. Io sono solo. Quello che ho voluto vedere ... lui non è più in giro. Non so cosa fare ... Voglio solo che le cose siano come prima.”

He had grown honest in his desperation, and now Lovino was finding himself saying things he hadn’t been able to admit to anyone before. He had barely been able to admit to himself how lost he felt, how fragile his hope was. Dammit…now he looked even weaker and more pathetic than before. Did Moretti enjoy seeing him break down like this? Lovino wondered bitterly.

And on top of everything, his stomach was still growling, louder this time. Lovino tucked his knees closer to his chest and willed it to stop. Dammit! He really didn’t need to embarrass himself anymore.

"S-stop!"

"W-why are you doing this?" "Why won’t you listen to me?"

"You’re wrong, bastard. There isn’t anyone waiting for me out there. I’m alone. The one I wanted to see…he’s not around anymore. I don’t know what to do…I just want things to be like before."

Admin Posts : 46 Join date : 2010-12-20

Feliciano was never particularly gifted in life at reading other people's actions one hundred percent, nor was he great at figuring out the appropriate responses to said actions. It was odd, considering how he prided himself on being able to get along with other people so well. It seemed that now was yet another time to add to his big list of 'maybe I really shouldn't have done that' moments. It was clear to anyone, even Feliciano, that Lovino was extremely upset. Anyone who heard the harshness to the other man's voice could have told you that. Feliciano himself was a huge crybaby all his life, and was all too familiar with what his own voice sounded like after a crying fit. This man in front of him was no exception.

Before he knew it, Feliciano was holding a blanket in his hands. It really was a surprise, usually in a game of tug of war, the other person would win hands down. This sure was a first in his book. Looking silly, he glanced between the now exposed and nearly hysterical Lovino in the bed, and the blanket safely in his own hands. It wasn't the reaction that he had wanted, but the pesky thing was gone. Being messy as always, the intern tossed the blanket safely off to the side where he was sure the other Vargas couldn't reach it. Now that he got him out of that cocoon of blankets, he didn't want him going back in. It was time for him to transform into a beautiful butterfly, right? Or...at least that was how it worked in books.

The weird thing was that he was sure that once Lovino was out from the tangle of blankets, things would be much better. The current atmosphere of the room was far from the daydreams of accomplishment in his head. No, the panic in his stomach wasn't leaving, it was now eating away at him even more. It wasn't just eating away his insides, the panic was still all too real on his face for the world to see. He didn't understand. Sure, being under the covers was nice and there were days when he didn't want to get out of bed, but this was different.

What didn't this patient understand? He kept accusing him of not listening and not paying attention and all these other things. The reality was that the wannabe doctor was helping this patient in the best way he knew how -- by being honest with him. It was just a natural reaction for the boy really. Feliciano was a horrible liar and could be brutally honest at times, even when it really wasn't the type of honestly people needed at that moment in time. He really meant the best with it all.

"Calmati, calmati, per favore!" Once again, Feliciano moved a bit closer and found himself holding up his hands in front of himself like he was going to be attacked or something of the sort. He himself was jumpy and could take a dose of his own advice there. "Non volevo turbarti. Davvero!"

Not around anymore...? What did that mean? Had God taken away whoever this 'he' in the other man's life was? Feliciano could sympathize, once again. Though panic was still evident on his face, there was a bit of sympathy mixed in. He wanted to give Lovino a hug, but even Feliciano remembered the rule that he wasn't allowed to give hug therapy to the patients anymore after the last incident. After going to make a move that almost resembled a hug, he caught himself midway. "A volte la gente va via, ma c'è sempre qualcuno che si prende cura di te. Te lo prometto!" He still wanted to wet himself, but he tried to smile, and that was what counted in his book. His voice wavered for a moment. "Dio ha portato via mia madre e mio padre e io sono ancora qui, giusto?" It was painful to say but maybe it would help to hear something he could relate to? That was what he hoped.

But something else caught his attention. A grumble.

Now Feliciano found himself staring at Lovino's belly area, letting out a small "Ve?" of confusion.

_{"Calm down, calm down, please!"
"I didn't mean to upset you. Really!"

"Sometimes people go away but there is always someone that cares about you. I promise!"
"God took away my mother and father and I am still here, right?"}

Subject: Re: Room 205- Lovino Vargas’ Room Sat Apr 09, 2011 7:06 pm

Lovino continued to lay curled up on the bed, feeling cold and vulnerable without the blanket there to shield him. He kept his face buried within his hands as he tried to stop his shaking. Without the medication, it was almost impossible, though, and the most he managed to do was change his sobbing to a few spontaneous choking sounds. Fuck… Lovino was so tired of looking like an idiot. He tried to keep himself from inching closer to the wall when he heard the other man move behind him. Stay away. Don’t touch me, dammit, his mind begged.

The movement stopped though, and Lovino listened quietly to the invader’s words, which did little to comfort him, and in fact, only made him feel worse. There’s no one left, dammit. What does this bastard know? His promises were worthless to Lovino. The patient didn’t even know the other Vargas anyway. Why should he believe him? Just because he spoke to him in Italian didn’t make him trustworthy, Lovino reminded himself. He was just like the rest…and maybe worse, because while the other staff members had given up on him rather quickly, this guy was fucking persistent.

He heard Moretti’s voice waver and let his hands slide down from his face cautiously. The Italian hated having people upset around him; it really just made him feel even more unsettled. Even if he was the cause for this man’s distress, he wished it would all just go away…

And then Moretti mentioned his own parents. The idiot…What good was it to be alone? Few things frightened Lovino more than being abandoned- there were times when he thought it was better to be dead than be condemned to a life of loneliness. However, the Italian was far from suicidal. He was far too cowardly to ever take his own life- that, and there was the fact that part of him still believed that Antonio was somewhere out there, looking for him. It was fragile hope, but it was what kept him going, more than anything else.

Lovino didn’t understand how another orphan could be so content with being the only one still living. Maybe Moretti had some siblings somewhere. If the man was confident enough to believe there was always someone who cared about you, then of course, he must have held it true for himself. Lovino could tell he was trying to relate to him, but he didn’t see how the other Italian could when his way of thinking was so different from his own. It really was…wasn’t it?

Damn his stomach. The growling seemed so much louder that it probably was in reality. Lovino felt his face burn with embarrassment. Moretti was going to rub it in his face for sure- point out how hungry he was and make him feel stupid for not leaving his room when there was surely food waiting for him outside it.

But the staff member didn’t say anything. When the silence became unbearable (which for Lovino was only a matter of seconds), the Italian glanced back over his shoulder only to see Moretti staring at his stomach. And then there it was. That sound!

Lovino’s eyes widened, and he sat up suddenly. He stared at Moretti silently, too distracted to even care about his hair, which had gotten disheveled after he had been torn apart from his cocoon. The patient’s face was panicked and confused. Even Lovino himself didn’t understand it- what was it about that sound that had caused him to react this way? It was as if his mind was trying to remember something, but there was an invisible obstacle preventing him from identifying exactly what it was. He frowned at the other man, trying to somehow associate his face with the sound he had just made. It was impossible, though, fucking impossible- there was just no answer coming to him.

Lovino watched the other Italian, who was probably rather confused himself at this point, and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but no words escaped him. Ve, ve, ve… It wasn’t English. It wasn’t Italian. And yet, Lovino could have sworn he’d heard it somewhere before. Where? It was going to bother him for a long time.

Lovino finally pulled his gaze away, offering no explanation for his behavior, and put a hand up to his stomach. The rumbling continued- low but persistent.

“U-uscire a guardarmi, dannazione,” he muttered. “Io non sono solo sentirsi bene.”

It was a pathetic excuse, and Lovino knew it. But it wasn’t a lie. The hunger was eating away at him, and it was getting hard to think, much less solve any mystery like that behind his sudden déjà vu. His eyes darted away from the face that looked so much like his own and drifted around the room, finally settling on the only familiar, comforting thing in sight- his tambourine. The Italian stared at it wordlessly. So many memories in that small, scrappy instrument. No one would ever understand its importance to him. A volte la gente va via… Lovino didn’t bother wiping away the fresh tears that slid down his face.

Translations:

“Q-quit staring at me, dammit.” “I’m just not feeling well.”

Sometimes people go away…

Admin Posts : 46 Join date : 2010-12-20

It only took him a second to figure out what the mysterious noise was. It was clearly the grumbling of a very hungry stomach. Feliciano himself was a huge fan of food and got hungry very easily. His own stomach would grumble in a similar manner to beg him to feed himself. There was no mistaking it, it was a begging stomach. So Lovino was hungry? 'No wonder he is so grumpy!' he remarked in his head. Sure, the other man's actions were a little more than the definition of the word grumpy, but that was okay. This was better than being left baffled at the patient's actions. Now at least things made a little bit of sense. When people were hungry, they tended to get worked up.

His mind would have attempted to further use this new piece of important information to actually help solve the problem like his higher ups had instructed him, but Feliciano was thrown off yet again by the other man's actions. Apparently this patient sitting in front of him forgot one of the rules of common courtesy -- It was rude to stare. There were occasions in life when it was acceptable to stare, but now wasn't one of them. All he was doing was talking and trying to help someone, it wasn't like he had three heads or something silly of the sort. That is what he felt like at the moment.

First he wondered if he had said something offensive in his attempts to make the other Vargas feel better. That couldn't have been it though. So what had he said that deserved that facial expression and accompanying reaction? The poor other man hadn't even bothered to fix that horribly messy bed-head that he was now sporting without much worry. Feliciano could feel himself fidgeting nervously under the brunette's gaze, unsure of what he should say next. Yes, he was loud and rather obnoxious at times, but there were moments when even someone like him didn't know what exactly to say. All that seemed to come out was a confused little noise resembling a tiny whine. He could feel himself subconsciously playing with his hands awkwardly.

Wait. Why was he being accused of staring now when the patient here was the one with the staring problem?

Feliciano tilted his head to the side a bit, shooting the other a baffled look that he was still failing to be professional and hide. As he was accused of staring, the intern let out a small "Oh, scusi!" and quickly adverted his gaze to other things in the room as to not look suspicious as Lovino kept talking. Lovino was still clearly not quite right, so he didn't want to say or do anything bad to him and make him more angry. He hated making people angry. He chose to instead look at the ugly and outdated light fixture on the ceiling, the assorted items scattered around the room, his own pair of shoes on his feet, anything that wasn't the other body in the room. It worked for a little bit, but not too long.

He found his eyes drawn back to Lovino again, no matter how hard he tried to keep staring at that ugly light fixture. Maybe now he was staring a little, but it was only out of concern as he looked over Lovino's body for any signs of illness. "Sei malato?!" 'Oh no, oh no. What did the head say to do when patients were really sick?' he wracked his brain for the solution to this new predicament. "Dovrei chiamare il medico e magari ti possono mandare in ospedale o darvi medicina." For a few seconds he looked to the door that he had entered through, then back to Lovino.

It almost looked like Lovino was playing the same silly game that Feliciano has just been playing of staring at everything else in the room except for the only other living thing in it. When he followed his gaze, he saw that he seemed to be focused on a tambourine that was sitting nearby. How long had that been there? Feliciano must have failed to notice it before since he was so distracted with everything else going on. The panic for the sick patient currently sitting in front of him was slipping away as he looked curiously at the instrument. What was this strange unexplained feeling coming over him? He couldn't quite place his finger on why he was feeling like he had encountered this object before. Perhaps it was best for Lovino right now that Feliciano was all caught up in this, because he didn't notice the other man crying at first.

No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't place where he was remembering it from. Sure, like probably every person in the world, Feliciano had encountered the strange instrument known as the tambourine more than one time in his life before. This was the small instrument that many people don't know how to play properly, so it was just often shaken around to make a racket. That is what Feliciano remembered it by. His step father loved music and instruments in all shapes and sizes and had one at their home that Feliciano enjoyed making noise with. It wasn't that Feliciano wasn't musically talented, he just liked listening to it and never bothered to learn properly. "Quello..."

Whatever emotion was stirred up inside of him in this very instant though, his heart could tell that it wasn't related to his step father's musical collections. That he was sure of. It was a much more lighthearted and happy feeling. It felt like it was right on the edge of his mind ready to reveal itself, but so foggy and far away. He himself had never owned that instrument, so it wasn't like he was putting it together with something he owned in the past. So it belonged to someone else close to him...but who was the question. This one belonged to Lovino and no matter how much it looked like someone else's, that was silly. Feliciano didn't know Lovino, even if their faces were the same.

Lovino....Lovino was sick! That was right. Snapping out of his thoughts, the intern turned his attention back to the person in question. Now he noticed those tears for sure. "Aspetta, perché piangi, fa male da qualche parte?" Feliciano came closer to Lovino, but didn't touch him still. He wanted him to feel better, why were there more tears?

_{---
"Oh, sorry!"
"You are sick?!"
"I should call the doctor and maybe they can send you to the hospital or give you medicine."
"That..."
"Wait, why are you crying, does it hurt somewhere?"}

Subject: Re: Room 205- Lovino Vargas’ Room Mon May 23, 2011 2:37 pm

Lovino clutched his knees, staring down at the bed sheets. He didn’t know how much longer this guy was going to stay around, but it didn’t look like he planned on leaving anytime soon after all. Instead, he was looking around at random places in the room, making Lovino’s skin crawl and causing him to become more and more nervous. What was he staring at? Most of the Italian’s possessions were hidden away or in the closet. It wasn’t like he had a lot of stuff here anyway. Moretti kept looking up at the light fixture for some reason that Lovino couldn‘t understand. Was it really that interesting? Lovino looked up, half expecting to see something different than the ceiling he was used to, but it was all just the same. Nothing special there. Nothing special here. So why hadn’t the man left already?

The Italian had hoped that his excuse would have given Moretti a hint to leave him alone so he could rest and recover. He soon realized how easily his words could backfire, though, when the other man seemed to get distressed over Lovino’s condition. He didn’t want to see a fucking doctor, dammit…and he sure as hell didn’t want any more medicine either! He already had to take enough of the crap that the doctors prescribed him, and the Italian did his best to avoid being forced to take any more than he had to. Lovino shook his head at the other man, still refusing to look at him except out of the corner of his eye.

When the other Italian’s gaze landed on his tambourine, though, Lovino stiffened. Don’t you fucking touch it! his mind snarled, but he made no movements. It seemed Moretti was keeping his hands to himself, anyway- a wise choice. Lovino wasn’t sure how he’d react if anyone touched his prized possession, the only material thing he cared about and could never bear to part with or have ruined. He didn’t want anyone getting close to it when he hadn’t even been able to touch it himself.

Lovino really did feel sick, but it was the weakened kind of nausea that came with hunger. He groaned and slowly slumped down onto the bed again, burying his face in the pillow. No doctors, no hospitals…He really just wanted to be left alone. But at the same time, he didn’t want to be alone. Did that make sense? He didn’t want anyone to bother him or make him feel awkward, but at the same time, he didn’t want to sit in a room full of silence and isolation. It was just no good. Lovino could never have what he wanted because what he wanted was impossible. Fuck, Moretti had seen him crying.

“Sto bene. Lasci perdere, bastardo,” he muttered, covering his face.

His stomach rumbled in protest, and he moved his other hand down to rest over it. He didn’t want to ask this guy for help…The Italian knew people thought he had a problem with dependency, but it was only with those he was close to. His family. He hated asking any favors from strangers. There wasn’t much worse that this guy could see of him, though. Moretti’s opinion of him couldn’t get much lower as far as he was concerned…and Lovino really hated being hungry.

“Basta...portami qualcosa da mangiare, maledizione.”

-

“I’m fine. Forget it, bastard.”

“Just…bring me something to eat, dammit.”

Admin Posts : 46 Join date : 2010-12-20

Feliciano was quite obviously still very worried as he looked at the patient that was currently under his care, in a sense. It made him feel a bit useless that he was honestly trying his best and seemed to be accomplishing nearly nothing with this man. The other Vargas was rather sad looking. He almost resembled an isopod when it was removed from its dark hideaway and curled itself in a ball. It was a sad sight for Feliciano, who loved seeing people happy. Sure, he was in a mental asylum, and patients here were far from happy, but that didn't mean he wanted to see everyone so upset still.

As dense as he could be at times, Feliciano wasn't so stupid as to believe Lovino's words when he told him that he was fine. People who were fine didn't sit in their rooms alone and cry. They didn't hide from the rest of the world. Fine people went out and faced the world with a smile on their face. This was something that Lovino clearly wasn't doing. He wasn't okay, or he wouldn't be here. It was sad and kind of cruel to think in that mindset, but Feliciano couldn't really help it. It didn't help the situation any that the other male was calling him vulgar names. Like most human in life, he disliked being called names. He was just doing his job to help someone sick! There was no need for name calling. Feliciano was always a bit soft, and the tears from the patient didn't help. Half the time when he saw other people cry, he himself wanted to cry.

The truth was that Lovino was making him a bit upset himself. He was trying so hard. It was funny how the other brunette could hide himself so well even without the blankets as he watched him cover himself up with a hand. Why was he doing that? Feliciano was quite sure that he was far from frightening. Caught up in his own confusion of how to proceed with the situation, the intern failed to notice the grumbles of protest from Lovino's stomach this time. It wasn't until he heard actual speaking again that he was relieved.

Feliciano visibly perked up a little again, a real smile nearly returning fully to his face. "Hai solo bisogno di cibo e che risolverà tutto?" Personally, he adored food and could be quite the obnoxious gourmet that could eat someone out of house and home. He was also an amazing cook, so this was in his department as far as he was concerned. Admittedly, he was supposed to be more familiar with actually dealing with patients and how their heads worked...but no, food was really his thing. "Hanno un sacco di cibo dalla cucina, ho visto che quando ero in giro a piedi, molto annoiata qualche giorno fa. Una grande cucina!" Like most public places with kitchens, the asylum did have a nice sized kitchen to deal with making food for all of the patients residing inside. So his thoughts earlier were correct, he was really hungry and his stomach was crying for help to match its poor owner's one real tears.

"Oh..." That was right, the two had this discussion already about the food in the big kitchen in another part of the building. Feliciano let out a small, tired sounding sigh. "Ma il cibo appare qui in modo disgustoso. La gente non può essere permesso di mangiare quello." It was audible, but much more quiet than his normally loud speaking voice. He was really just talking to himself. Though he had never eaten it personally, but he had a theory that is why many people didn't get better here, because the food they were eating was so shady looking. What a predicament. He certainly didn't want to kill the patient he was supposed to be caring for. If he did that, he would without a doubt lose his job here and his step parents would be furious. And jail would be such a waste of his life!

At this moment in time, Feliciano was giving Lovino a very strange look, though he didn't mean it on purpose. He was just a pretty weird guy. He was just deciding on how to get the poor guy food without accidentally killing him via food poisoning in the process. The other Vargas didn't seem intent on leaving the room which was the main reason Feliciano met him in the first place. His reasoning didn't stop there. It was Feliciano's job to get Lovino out of the room, but based on the rumbling of his stomach and the stubbornness of his personality, he would die of hunger before Feliciano got him out of the room. And if he died of hunger he would never come out of the room.

Clearly there was only one logical conclusion! Feliciano would have to leave Lovino in the room for a little bit longer, get food, and come back. Then Lovino would be full of energy with his full stomach and be able to leave the room. It was a genius plan, and the intern has a silly grin as he reached this conclusion. "Ho preso!"

Before Lovino probably had made any sense of the situation or why he was getting such odd looks from the intern looming over him, Feliciano gave him a little wave. "Tu rimani qui per un po 'più a lungo per favore, Lovino!" With that, he made his way to the door in a hurry. "Ti porterò cibo quando torno, promesso!" The door closed behind him and once again, the patient was left alone in his room.

He just hoped he didn't run into the doctor that told him to get Lovino out in the first place, because he wasn't in the mood to be scolded.

_{-----

"You just need food and that will fix everything?"
"They have a lot of food down in the kitchens, I saw it when I was walking around really bored a few days ago. Such a big kitchen!"

"But the food here looks so disgusting. People can't be allowed to eat that."

"Got it!"

"You stay here for a little while longer please, Lovino!"
"I will bring you food when I get back, promise!"}

Subject: Re: Room 205- Lovino Vargas’ Room Sat Jun 25, 2011 5:54 pm

Lovino stared straight ahead as he lay on the bed, eyes locked on his tambourine, but still watching Moretti slightly as the other man spoke to him. If only things could be as simple as the other Italian said. If food could cure him, Lovino would have eaten some long ago no matter how disgusting it was. If it could give him Toni back, his old life, his feeling of security…then for sure, it would have been worth it.

Still, the thought of disgusting food didn’t do much to make him feel any better. He still felt rather sick, and he was embarrassed as hell for the weakness he was showing. As if things weren’t bad enough, Moretti was staring at him now with a very bizarre expression that made the insecure Italian pull the blankets tighter around his body as if they could somehow protect him from being judged. His hazel eyes flicked back up to Moretti’s pitifully before he cast them down again and looked at nothing. Lovino was attempting to bottle up his emotions and preserve whatever dignity he had left, but it was difficult; the tears were still threatening to spill from his eyes again, and as his nose stung painfully, the Italian did everything in his power to stop himself from breaking down.

And then Moretti excused himself. Lovino’s mouth opened soundlessly. He almost shouted for the other man to wait, but stopped himself just in time. Hadn’t he just told him to go? There was no taking his words back. He didn’t know whether or not Moretti would actually do as he said, but Lovino couldn’t bring himself to change his mind and ask the other to stay. He was too hungry to think clearly, and he knew that until his belly was satisfied, there was no way he was going to pull himself out of this slump.

Fuck… As soon as the door had shut being Moretti, the Italian had no more excuses to keep his tears in, and they burst from him along with his emotions as if the cork had just been popped off of a high pressure bottle. Lovino started bawling, turning his reddened face into the pillow to muffle the sounds he was making. He still wasn’t sure how thick these walls were, and he hated the thought of anyone hearing him when he was like this. He didn’t want to be alone anymore, dammit. He wanted his family. He wanted his freedom. The Italian choked and sobbed, putting a hand up to his head to rub at the worsening headache that was building as a result of his crying. He muttered curses under his breath and scratched at his face. The pain felt good in some twisted way, but he didn’t want to sink to the level of self-mutilation, so he stopped and rested his hand on the bed next to him. He already had a hard enough time looking in the mirror as it was. Eventually, the Italian calmed down a bit, sobs turning to hiccups as he stared at the instrument on the night table once again. Very slowly, he reached out and touched it, touched it for the first time since he had come here, curling his fingers around the edge and picking it up slowly. He heard the little cymbals cling as he lifted it, and as soon as he had tucked the tambourine safely to his chest, he pulled the blankets over his head and closed his eyes, waiting.

Admin Posts : 46 Join date : 2010-12-20

For once during the meeting with Lovino Vargas, Feliciano felt like he actually had one corner of the situation under control. Sure, he had gotten through school enough where working in a mental asylum was supposed to be deemed something he was good at, but the truth of the matter was that the subject of food was always more down his alley. It was clear to him that he was failing his mission of getting Lovino out of his room at the moment, but he hoped that this would at least make up for it somehow in his boss' mind if worse came to worse. If the patient stayed in his room and didn't eat then he would starve to death. If he starved to death, he would never come out of his room alive. If Lovino had food, then he would be able to try to get him out the next day. The logic made total sense.

Feliciano found himself walking at a rather quick pace, which was good since the distance between room number 205 where Lovino resided and the room with his own lunch was a bit long. He didn't want the patient thinking that he was being abandoned. That wouldn't help the situation any. The situation at hand was already so strange...and Feliciano really couldn't place his finger on why other than a few small facts. The halls of a mental asylum was not the place to be in his own little world though, he soon learned after bumping into a few nurses.

Luckily for him, when he entered the little lounge with refrigerator containing his lunch, there was no other staff present. It wasn't his lunch break, or any other break of sorts. That would get him in trouble. It would have also gotten him some weird looks if they saw what he was about to do.

The room contained some paper plates and plastic eating utensils, which were just what he needed. Feliciano took his big container of rotini pasta and sauce, and opened it. The sight made him starving and he wanted to eat it. He was always bad at resisting urges, but he could handle it for now. It was for the sake of helping. Mouth watering, he dumped half the pasta into the empty paper bowl he had found. Yes, he would be hungry later giving this away. The thought was saddening. Feliciano couldn't resist the urge. He ate one of the noodles from the bowl intended for Lovino. It wasn't his fault that he has already closed the cover to the other container! This was just saving time. Yes, that was it.

After he cleaned up his mess, Feliciano snatched a fork from the plastic utensil holder and made his way back towards Lovino's room. The bowl of pasta in his hand was gaining him a variety of looks from both other staff members and patients. It was ironic, that patients at a mental asylum found his actions a bit insane. Feliciano himself didn't know what was coming over him. He had reasoned with himself that this was all just for helping another human be full and helping out his job status, but it felt like something more. If he was giving away half his pasta, it was clearly something important. Something was tugging at him inside and doing this gave him the oddest sense of self satisfaction. Not knowing the reason behind it though was the strangest feeling.

The trip back to the room seemed shorter than the walk back to the break room. Before long, he was standing in front of the familiar numbers on the door. With his free hand, he opened the door again and silently prayed to himself that food really was the answer to this man's problems. "Sono tornato." he said as he answered, closing the door behind him once more. All he was greeted with was a cocoon of blankets like earlier in their meeting. Blinking at the blankets that clearly contained Lovino, Feliciano just stared for a moment before approaching. "Lovino? Sono a casa in là? Ti ho portato la pasta come una promessa. Questa è la cosa giusta per risolvere in su!" He tried to sound as cheerful as possible for moral support to make Lovino come out.

...he hoped he would come out of free will from the blankets, at least.

----
_{"I'm back."
"Lovino? Are you home in there? I brought you pasta just like a promised. This is just the thing to fix you up!"}

Subject: Re: Room 205- Lovino Vargas’ Room Wed Nov 02, 2011 3:46 pm

Lovino wasn’t sure how long he was under the blanket before Moretti returned. It could have been only a few minutes. It could have been an hour. However long it was, the Italian felt himself losing touch with reality as he retreated far back into the depths of his mind. The tambourine tucked against his chest moved slightly with each breath, but not enough to make a sound. He remembered when the instrument had looked so much bigger, when his hand had been so small closing around its edge. There was someone laughing as he played it, someone with a high, happy voice. Definitely not Antonio, though…This was far back before Lovino had even known him. So far back that there were no real images, only smells and sounds and blurry memories.

Lovino furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of what was going through his throbbing head, temples still aching from the tears. He had been so eager for the other man to go, but at the same time, he had known that his departure would leave him with this sore lonely feeling. He just hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. It felt as if part of him had been torn away, but instead of bleeding, there was just this hole in his heart, the same one his adoptive family’s rejection had left him with, only cut a bit deeper. He shouldn’t care so much about a fucking stranger, he told himself. Nurses and interns came and left all the time, but none had ever talked to him the way Moretti had. Maybe it was the fact that the other had spoken Italian to him. Lovino hadn’t spoken much Italian at all since the last of his biological relatives had turned him out of their house. His foster parents had never been much good at it, though they tried. With the Carriedos, he had been forced to learn Spanish, and while it didn’t bother him much now, back then it had been horrible. He had had to give up his native tongue to learn something so foreign to him, and now, finally having that back had been like gaining a piece of his old self again. But it hadn’t lasted. Moretti was probably never coming back to his room, and Lovino could hardly blame him. Why should anyone have to keep a promise to a crazy man? Lovino knew well enough that all the “sane” people in this hospital looked down on the patients as something less than themselves. People like Lovino needed help, needed to be fixed so they could be “normal” again. Even Moretti had said it. In Lovino’s warped perspective, he had practically called him a freak. And Lovino knew that’s what he was- an abnormal person who couldn’t even get himself to eat a proper meal or be out among other people the way normal human beings were supposed to be able to do. But there was no fixing him. Not unless someone could give him back everything he’d lost and make him feel whole again.

And then, suddenly, the door opened. Lovino snapped out of his daze, making the tambourine jingle a bit as he jumped in surprise at the noise. He heard footsteps and then that voice again- speaking Italian to him. Lovino shifted in the bed nervously and debated whether or not to come out from the cocoon of covers he had built around himself. He wasn’t crying anymore at least, but he knew he still looked like a mess. Lovino was still surprised the other Italian had returned at all. He had really kept his promise?

Lovino peeked his nose out from the wad of blankets and suddenly caught a whiff of an appetizing scent that caused his traitorous stomach to growl loudly in demand. What was that? Lovino pulled the covers further off his head and turned back to look at the man who had entered his room. There he was- same stupid face that was trying to act more cheerful than it probably was- and in his hands he held…pasta.

Lovino’s mouth watered, and he wiggled himself up into a sitting position, still holding the tambourine close to him under the covers and cradling it on his lap. He looked at the pasta and then at Moretti, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. Could the other be trying to trick him somehow? Maybe he had put something in the pasta, something that would knock him out so he could take him out of the room by force…

“Cosa c'è dentro?” he asked hesitantly. He didn’t reach out for the bowl or make any other sign that he wanted it aside from staring at it hungrily. Even in its cheap paper bowl, it looked so much better than any of the crap they had been trying to serve him here at the hospital over the last few days. Could it really be true Italian food? He wanted to believe it was so bad. Still, he was reluctant to show just how much he wanted it. His fingers tapped nervously against the skin of the tambourine as he waited for Moretti to force or threaten him into eating like the rest of the staff normally did.

---
Translations:
“What’s in it?”

» Room 306 - Marcus Valentino Emilio Ricci's Room
» Room 132: Alfred F. Jones' Room
» Room 210 - Gilbert Beilschmidt's Room
» Room 202: Alfred Jones' Room
» Room 207; Antonio Fernandez's room