"Ludwig?" Feliciano had tugged on the sleeve of his shirt, a frown plastered on his face. His eyes were opened for once, their amber depths filled with an emotion Ludwig had never seen on the Italian before. He frowned.

"What is it, Feliciano?" he asked, wiping a hand across his sweaty brow. The football - soccer, as Alfred would say - field was void of human life, except for them. Looking to the darkening sky, he added, "Make it quick."

"Why would someone kill themself?" Feliciano asked, finally, his voice cracking painfully. Ludwig stopped, dropping the towel he was using to wipe his forehead. He opened his mouth wordlessly.

"W - what?" Ludwig choked out, "Why are you even asking about that, Feliciano?"

"Have you not heard?" Feliciano whispered, quietly, "Kiku was so torn about it..."

"Torn about what?" Ludwig inquired. It took him several moments to realize. He blinked rapidly, trying to ignore the sting of his eyes, and then he whispered, "...who was it?"

"Arthur." Feliciano muttered quietly, picking at the hem of his shirt. "Arthur Kirkland. You know the Kirklands, right? Well, that's why the other four haven't been to school in the past two days."

"Arthur? But..." Ludwig had struggled for words for several moments, and then he paled. "Gilbert is - was - friends with him. Do you think he even knows?"

"Most likely not," Feliciano replied, looking to the toes of his shoes. "Kiku was told just this morning, and you know how close they are - were, I mean... But wait a second, Ludwig, you never answered my question. Why would he...?"

"I don't know," Ludwig said numbly, bending down to pick up the dirtied towel from the ground. He let out a shaky breath and merely shook his head before he walked to the showers.

Feliciano was quiet, and then he looked to the sky, as if he was seeking for answers. Then he spoke, unnaturally bitter, "Maybe one day you will tell me... and don't give some excuse about nobody caring. Because I know a lot - if not all of us - did."

Ludwig had finally emerged from the changing rooms, his cleats dangling from the strings held within his palms. "Ready?" he asked his friend, grimly.

"Yeah," Feliciano said. "Ludwig?"

"Yes, Feliciano?" Ludwig asked, glancing to his friend and trying to gauge the emotion displayed across his face. Feliciano had smiled a pained smile and said,

"Don't do this to me. Ever."

so um idk how obvious it was that this was really personal, but it was. my mother's friend, my acquaintance, my best friend's brother-without-blood, and my mom-without-blood's son-without-blood killed himself just a few weeks ago on july 13th. that's part of the reason why i haven't been on in a long time, so sorry about that. i'll have the next chapter for "he'll be fine" soon, i swear!

also my beta-reader is on another well-deserved vacation and is having a break, so this is unbetaed. thanks for reading this big wall of text. you're great. :)