'He stared into honey-glazed eyes,

His brain was scattered.

No longer how he prevailed,

Scattered.'

-Antonio Carriedo

Age 13.

It was a dark day, the clouds were drooping unusually and the sky was giving an aura of grey. Grey as in the colour of dullness, a boring sensation in which you feel totally done with everything and it makes you want to be sad. Utterly and mostly sad. It had been two weeks since Antonio Carriedo died, and Lovino Vargas was feeling grey like the sky. His best friend disappeared in a matter of moments in a vital car accident, due to icy roads as he slipped off the pavement and dived into a stream. A burst of flames scared Lovino as he remembered what had happened. He was watching him from afar in his home across the street from the stream. He waited, he waited so long for him to come by, and he never made it to him in the end.

They were supposed to be going to their friend Alfred F. Jones's sixteenth birthday party at the art gallery in the downtown area of their city. Lovino lived in the outskirts of the city, a suburb of it. Antonio lived a couple miles away, but thank God for his car or else he would never had made all those memories with Lovino. They were best friends, and everyone knew.

No, it wasn't supposed to happen like this.

It never was.

'Extravagent eyes looked into mine,

Desperate for love.

It was not your ship that sunk, but yet, mine.'

-Antonio Carriedo

Age 14.

Lovino was absolutely numb, he looked outside seeing nothingness. He didn't know how to feel, his olive hands gave a jerk of a shake. His eyes teared up. Red. Irritated.

Angry mostly.

"Fratello," said Lovino's younger twin brother, Feliciano, "you doing okay?"

"N-No."

There was a pause, and for once, Lovino finally said he wasn't alright. He was always headstrong, and he would always give out, "I'm fine," or at least, "Okay." This wasn't 'okay'. This wasn't 'okay' at all.

Nothing was okay right now.

"I-I'm going to get Mama, okay?" Feliciano stated, walking off to get their mother. As in a matter of slow minutes, which were actually just a couple of seconds, their mother was there to comfort him. Everything seemed slow now. Nothing ever seemed to go fast for Lovino anymore. It all went slow.

Sweepingly slow.

Somehow, Lovino managed to get to school the next day without breaking down in tears whenever he saw a type of memory that traced Antonio. For example, when he went by the local lake and saw the light sanded beaches drifting through their way out of the sea. It reminded him that Antonio loved the beach, and most of all, the creatures living inside the beach. It was so peaceful, maybe Lovino would just have to travel there one afternoon.

He entered the building, very vulnerable. He didn't know what to do next, he felt cold. A shiver ran up his spine as he sighed, picking up his backpack yet again and headed to his very first class, Maths.

"Oi, Lovino." an English accent came out, the voice got closer and closer. "I see you're back, welcome back."

"Thanks, Arthur. I just- I feel so numb. We were practically brothers at heart, stupid bastard. Why did he have to die, why couldn't I have died as well!? Why do they say the 'good die young' and the 'bad die older'? Why couldn't he have lived, Arthur? Why?"

Why.

Why was always the question in this case, and it sucked. Why is just another go-on transition for another 'why', then another one too. When is 'why' ever going to get a 'because'? It seemed like asinine. Pure and most asinine. Sometimes, Lovino wished for a because. Like the day Antonio died.

Why did Antonio die?

"..."

There was no because. None, and there would probably never will be.

This made Lovino angry.

Because Antonio never deserved to die in the first place.

'As the sun sets,

You go forth.

And when the sun rises,

You stop.'

-Antonio Carriedo

Age 15.