Sorry I'm Not Sorry [Germany]

[Lovino Vargas]

SATURDAY AUG 23, 2014

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Lovino wondered upon arriving on World W. Academy if whether or not it was bad that he was already thinking of ways to prey on all of the naïve, wealthy students. Despite the fresh start he was receiving, he was still a cat with claws that only retracted, but never for long. They would grow dull and useless if he didn’t find ways to keep them sharp. But before conquering the well-off could occur, Lovino first needed to conquer the abrupt change of weather. Having skipped out on the welcome tour entirely, he eventually found his way to his dorm, studying the ground with more interest when he took the elevator to the second floor. He was a transfer student, not some rosy-cheeked freshman—as far as things worked back home, once you had your clique, there was no real use in making extensions from it. Trying to talk to people would be useless— Lovino figured it was probably best that way as well.

Upon moving into his currently empty room, he had unpacked his sparse belongings, found the temperature control and cranked it up to its highest setting, before huddling underneath the bed sheets. He found them bearing the light scent of fresh detergent and soft to the touch. When he squeezed his eyes shut, temporarily, he saw home. White sheets being pinned to clothing lines outside that would flutter in the breeze...but before the image could grow and sprawl out to the clear blue water lapping upon the shores of the local beach, Lovino turned on his side and squeeze his eyes even harder, willing himself to think less and sleep more.

It had been the first bout of peaceful rest he’d had in awhile.

---

By the time Lovino woke up again, he was greeted by the onset of the sun setting. His tongue felt thick in his mouth from having fallen into such a deep slumber, and his stomach growled with hunger, though another hunger spoke even louder.

Yawning, he remained in bed, staring up at the ceiling in a bored trance. Outside, he picked up on the sound of footsteps of people passing in the hallway, dying out as quickly as they had come around. Rolling on his stomach, Lovino buried his face into the softness of his pillow, indulging in the quiet calm for a few minutes longer. At last, he managed to drag himself from his bed, grabbing his ID card and keys, shoving them in his back pocket along with smoking supplies. Taking a brief glance in the mirror, he saw the state of disarray his hair was in from perhaps rolling around too much—carefully combing it out with his fingers, he managed to tame most of it, save for the same wayward curl in front that never obeyed. With a shrug, he deemed himself presentable enough for public and crept out of his room.

The entire hallway was empty and Lovino gave a low whistle, looking left, then right and left again, before heading in the direction opposite of the dining hall. After all, dinner could wait. It wasn’t as if he counted on food outside of Italy to be decent or worthy of sharing excitement in. From Room 205, he strode past 206 before pausing at 207, out of chance. Pressing his ear against the door, he listened to hear for any signs of life within—and found none. With the coast clear, all it took was the easy jiggle of a doorknob follower by his school ID card stuffed within the thin crack of the door in order to bust it open. Another smooth success, in his opinion.

The first thing Lovino noticed about the room was the unearthly…neatness of it— sterile clean, in a sense. It reminded him of a hospital—minus the screaming children and bouncy young nurses. He wrinkled his nose as he opened the door further, slipping it shut behind his back as he wandered in.

“Che, is this really the room of a high school kid? Whoever lives here must have the biggest pole lodged so far up their ass,” he snorted lightly, making himself at home by flopping down on the neatly arranged bed, bringing wrinkles instantly to the sheets. Crossing his legs, he dug into the back pocket of his pants, pulling a box of cigarettes.

“…There’s probably some rule against this,” he muttered quietly, deciding to get up and open a window as to not immediately set off any fire alarms before returning back to the bed. It was then that he picked out a cigarette, lit it up with a few flicks of his trusty lighter, and then began to smoke. Ash fell on the sheets with each tap of the glowing lit end—it certainly wasn’t his fault that the room was without any visible tray.

In the long run, Lovino hoped that whoever entered the room wouldn’t dare snitch on him.

He'd break their kneecaps.

Scooting over towards the edge of the bed, Lovino peered underneath it; high school kids, for the most part, weren't all all that clever, after all. Their pathetic attempts at hiding their valuable underneath their or in their closets were recipies to disaster on their part and convenience on his part.

[germy]

It was shortly after the first course that Ludwig discovered he had no further appetite for dinner. It was certainly strange for him to boycott something he was usually so punctual to attend but now would have to be the one exception. The very thought of food was was already making him feel nauseous. It was simply impossible for him to stand an entire meal; throughout the starter he'd been sipping water and, his colleges taking immediate notice, had insisted that he retire early and try to get some rest. Of course, he planned to do no such thing (rather he was going to catch up on some work and try to shrug his sickness off) but had found his friends to be so persistent that he didn't have much of a choice but to sulk off back to his room.

And that was how the German found himself wandering slowly back to his dormitory, still angry that he let himself get convinced into this so easily. Either way, he found that he actually couldn't complain too much - the cool solitude of the World W. Academy's downstairs lounge was much more favorable then the rowdy atmosphere of the dinner hall. It was something he'd have to get used to. In a military run school there would have been no possibility of him simply leaving dinner but here... Here he could relax, although only by a little. He still had a lot on his mind, after all - not just school and work and the fact he couldn't seem to get his hair right no matter how many times he slicked it back... There was something else. Something clawing at the back of his mind; a thing that he had grown up with but had always ignored. It had followed him from school to school and the hope of it ever leaving him seemed terribly far away.

He turned a corner; as he did so, he left those thoughts behind him. They were not something he wanted to think about. Ever.

With a shrug, he increased his pace slightly and started up the stairs that lead to the boys dormitory. The air was cool and felt refreshing. The feverish feeling was dissipating from his body, though his stomach didn't feel any better. It still cramped and twisted in protest - groaning at him to get to the nearest bed and stay there. He would do no such thing; his mind was completely work orientated and there was nothing that could be done to change it.

Finally arriving at the second floor, Ludwig pulled out a pair of keys as he approached the door with the numbers "207" across it. There was no other activity in the hall and he presumed he was the only one here. Normally the sound of laughter and shouts could be heard resounding off the walls until the small hours of the morning. There was nothing, however. Just his own terse breathing.

As he approached his door, however, he instantly knew that nothing was certainly not an appropriate word.

His door was unlocked and ajar. Ludwig was not the kind of person who made a mistake like that. Someone had broken into his room. He didn't even have to think about it, he just knew. How they'd done it - well, that puzzled him to no ends. They must have had some rather impressive lock picking skills.

Hands already balled into fists and eyes already darkening over, he walked slowly over to the door and pushed it open with the palm of his hand. He did not know what he expected to see. His room in ruins. His possessions gone. Lord, if they had even laid a finger on his cello---

It was none of these things. Not even close.

There was a person. On his bed. Which was now messy. Smoking (which broke ten billion different rules and made Ludwig set his teeth on edge). And was looking under his bed, right where he kept all his... No. Priorities.

"Excuse me?" He growled after a moment of stunned silence. "But what the hell do you think you are doing?"

[/size]

[Lovino Vargas]

It wasn’t the sound of the door creaking open to reveal another person that made Lovino pause in his exploration underneath the bed. In fact, it egged him on to probe his wandering hand deeper in, the tips of his fingers brushing along the edges of what he would have guessed to be some type of glossy magazine. It wasn’t as if this particular break in and enter job was planned to the point where he’d excuse himself out before someone returned—no, he’d need to memorize time schedules for such a detailed excursion.

It was quietly, momentarily, and for a second Lovino wondered if the intruder was just going to let him carry on as he pleased—which would have been great. However, that silence broke with the jarring boom of the voice that proved to be more than enough to make Lovino stop and raise his head and pay attention. His cigarette nearly dropped out of his mouth at first sight. He was expecting a tightwad, sure, but not a terrifying tightwad. The man was tall and appeared fit enough so that if he really wanted, he could probably snap Lovino’s kneecaps on his own accord. From the sound of his voice, he guessed that the guy was possibly from Germany or one of those northern countries—people from there loved to vacation in the warm parts of Italy.

Frowning, Lovino kept his front up, puckering his lips to blow out more smoke, looking as unperturbed as possible from there on out.

“What the hell does it look like I’m doing? Are you blind?” He replied coolly, the evidence of his accent heavy in his voice. “I’m smoking. D’you clean your room yourself, or are there maids here? And is that dirty stuff hiding underneath your bed? Jesus Christ you could have at least chosen the closet. Underneath the bed is too obvious. And God help you, I hope these sheets are clean.”

Lovino visibly shuddered to think of the possible filth he could be laying in. Languidly, he brought himself back up to a sitting position and gave the blonde man a two fingered salute.

“Anyway, ciao, bastard. I’m your neighbor. Kind of. Get used to it.”