A Game of Chess

Naples, Italy

November 13, 1950

5:12 PM

They didn't have much time. Seeing as how the American only had around a week left here, he wanted to use up every last second he had left. He stood behind an auburn hair colored Italian in the greenhouse once again. The sun was starting to set so it wasn't nearly as hot as it was in the afternoon, though that too was also part of his plan. With a firm grip on some thick bag in his hands, he listened to the Italian's rambling as he waited for the signal. And that signal was getting too late for his tastes.

"This is a roma tomato!" Feliciano excitedly exclaimed, spritzing one of the potted plants with his back turned towards Alfred. There were so many plants that he was introduced to that he sort of lost count of them all. It was great that Feliciano was enjoying himself right now, but the longer he stood there, the more agitated he became. 'Screw it.' He thought.

"Lovi likes to use it for pasta, but I really like-"

*Fwip!

Out of nowhere, the world around the Italian turned a pitch black. Feliciano struggled confusedly under the burlap bag, the spray in his hands dropping as he tried to latch onto the American. "Alfred-o? Wha-What are you doing?" He yelled.

Though Alfred didn't respond, the sound of thundering feet running towards the greenhouse made itself clear, and the sudden blunt thud of an object making contact with skin echoed throughout the greenhouse. "Bastard-o!" A familiar voice yelled. "I told you to wait, didn't I?"

A groan of pain seeped out of the American, the angry Italian's force in throwing what seemed to be a bunch of keys actually hurting more than it should've. "Where were you?" He asked, trying to keep Feliciano's arms from reaching him. They were surprisingly much stronger than he thought. "We were supposed to leave like ten minutes ago?"

Feliciano seemed to stop moving, his covered head turning to the sound of his brother's voice. "Lovi? What's happening?" He asked, still panicked by the loss of sense.

From darkness, a hand fell onto his head, ruffling his hair. There seemed to be a moment of silence before Lovino spoke. "Everything is fine. You trust me right?" He asked gently.

It took a minute for the Italian to fully calm down from the initial shock, but hearing that almost felt comforting. "..Of course." He replied.

"Good." Lovino said, letting in one last pat before lifting his hand away. "Just stay still and don't bump your head into things. Come on American, this way."

A soft grunt exhaled as he began to move. "Are you really sure your brother knows my name?" Alfred's voice asked behind him. He sounded exhausted, not malicious in any way. Feliciano's grip on the perpetrator behind him released itself as they made their way out of the house. It didn't seem like they were planning anything bad, though he had to admit, the strange bag over his head did surprise him.

The sound of bustling streets and a glazing orange of the sky broke through the small stitches of the sack, though that was all he could see. His hand was led by both Lovino and Alfred, as they walked down the narrow path of apartments. It made him wonder if any of their neighbors were out right now.

"Watch your head bud." The American said, slowly placing into the backseat of a car. Much to Feliciano's relief, it wasn't a taxi.

Alfred entered the side front seat of the car, glad that they had finally made it to the car, before noticing the near-red-orange hue of the sky. In a panic, he glanced at his watch, the hands ticking at ''. He clicked his tongue. Damnit, he knew they should've left earlier. "Crap, dude. We're going to be late." He said to the Italian buckling his seat beside him. Much to the American's dismay, he did not look troubled in the slightest.