The Lovely Wounds (SpaMano)

Five Years of Rotting

**WARNING**: Minor character death

Five years later...

It was half past three in the morning. The male had been sleeping - tossing and turning really, but he had been laying down just the same. There was no reason for him to be out of bed. There was no reason for a hot cup of caffeinated coffee - black without sugar - to be resting in his hand. Both were true, though, much to Lovino's dismay. A subordinate, a lower level on the grounds of something so trivial, had woken him. Someone on the streets had been asking for him, pleading for him by name. It wasn't entirely uncommon, no, but it did strike the young man as odd. He was no older than twenty-one; his name shouldn't have been well known on the streets; he hadn't allowed that to happen just yet.

Here the uncommon situation arose, and here Lovino was, woken from his restless slumber. He had dressed hastily, careful not to wake his sleeping brother that lay just across the room. Feliciano hadn't taken well to their new life, but he was adjusting. This was the first time the short brunette had slept well without Ludwig in weeks. He was not very keen on waking him. Once dressed in a pinstriped suit and black dress shoes, Lovino swept from the room. He had received coffee from yet another nameless subordinate. He sipped on it casually, attempting to rouse and form of sleep from his system. The harsh, yellow lights in the hallway seemed to help. They were nothing like the soft hues that used to be at home.

Home.

It was Lovino's first Thanksgiving in college. He had gotten accepted to the local university. It was his first time back since he had left, and he missed his wonderful Grandpa and brother so much. They were around the dinner table, laughing, singing, drinking. It was a merry, happy time.

That is until the door came barreling down. Heavy boots thundered into the dining room where they sat. Men in black, rough and tough. Lovino saw their gleaming black guns first. He bit back and shriek and dragged Feliciano to the ground just as the first bullets rang out. He heard Roma's strangled cry. His only thought was to get out, to get Feliciano to safety, find the gun in the safe, and call the cops.
Lovino had never handled a gun before, he had never felt the cool metal in his hands, but upon picking it up, he felt right. He handled the weapon well, shot with such accuracy. He was a natural.
He was so afraid.

The cops came, but the assailants were long gone.

So was Grandpa Roma.

Dead, killed by a shot straight through the heart.

Lovino couldn't help but admit it, but he saw more pain in the eyes of Chief Beilschmidt than Lovino felt inside of him. He had lost so much already. This was just one more event to add to the list.
He had joined it there, the Italian mafia. He stayed in school, but hardly paid attention. He was more focused on getting information, torturing, succeeding... Feliciano was scared, but he had Ludwig every step of the way. The blonde had never wavered, had never left. Lovino on the other hand, was cold and alone in world of the mafia in which he had risen in rank. He was alone in this empty world without color. He was alone in the yellowed halls.

Yellowed halls. Lovino was focused on reality once more. The lights flickered around him, but he didn't mind. He was used to the eerie feeling this stretch of hall gave him. He was used to the light being out over the door at the end of the hall. The male stalked forward, pausing only to let his subordinate open the door. Lovino stepped through the threshold and waited for the door to close behind him. He heard the lock click in place and glanced back to see that same subordinate guarding the door. Lovino noticed he was armed. He then looked towards the center of the room.