"Ve..." Feliciano practiced a fake smile into the mirror as he applied cover up to the fresh bruises on his neck and face. His lips quivered slightly and his eyes were still red.

The brunette frowned; his fingers shook. If Ludwig had seen any of that, he'd get angry. And getting Ludwig angry was the last thing the Italian wanted to do. A shudder ran down his spine as he replayed the events from last night. The German looming above him, eyes blazing, hands clenched into powerful fists.

Feliciano cowering on the corner of the bed, trying not to faint, because God knows what would happen to him then. Flesh meeting flesh. Blood and tears mixing, falling everywhere, the brunette's cries of agony echoing through the empty house. The Italian shivered violently as the next part replayed in his mind. Ludwig pinning the bleeding man down, stripping him, more tears, more screaming. More pain. More blood. More memories that the brunette would never get rid of.

That did it, Feliciano once more broke down into tears. They fell in little bursts, heavy, short, heavy, short. The concealer began to run, and he gasped, trying desperately to stop his tears. He couldn't let the makeup run; Ludwig would see his mistake.

Taking deep breaths, Feliciano managed to calm down. He rubbed his eyes and applied more concealer, practicing the fake smile once more. He couldn't let other people know about this, no. Then he might end up dead for sure.

There, that looked about normal. Now, the Italian was ready to face everyone. If he didn't act happy, and like there was nothing going on between himself and Ludwig, then people would get suspicious, and that would lead to a singular, downward spiral.

Feliciano shook his thoughts away and got the rest of his things ready. He had work to do; places to be. With one last little fake smile, the Italian turned, ignoring the jelly-like feeling in his legs and halfheartedly bouncing out the bathroom and into the living room, and then to the outside world.