Hai gaiz... (creeps out from a random corner)...

I'm so sorry! For those reading Healing Pains, I had the worst writer's block evar! And school started just now, so even less time! Also, this story was swimming in my head forEVER. So bear with me, please! I'll try to update as fast as possible, but for now, I give you this other story!

Disclaimer: I don't own, dammit! (sorry, frustrated these days)


It started out with the occasional blurs that appeared out of nowhere. Sometimes his vision would tunnel, or all the colors would blend together, like a giant oil pastel work, but after a furious rubbing of the eyes or tears forming from fear, they would go away.

But now… Feliciano shook his head. No, he though determinedly, he would not be scared. He might need glasses, but that would probably be it… but what if Ludwig didn't love him because he looked ugly with glasses? The Italian started to cry and began sniffling until he almost bonked his head on the glass door of the hospital. Immediately the tears started to dry, and Feliciano knew he had to be strong. After all, the doctors should be able to fix his eye problems, because that's what doctors do, fix things.

Or so he thought.

"No, b-but-"

"Mr. Vargas, this is a serious condition. You cannot ignore it. Within a few years, you will be blind permanently. There is treatment to help you keep your eyesight longer, but it is inevitable," the doctor sighed, adjusting his horn rimmed glasses.

Feliciano though the first thing he would do was cry like he usually did. However, no tears began to wet the corners of his eyes, his tear ducts dry, almost painfully so.

"Well I guess I should go… tell Ludwig…" Feliciano mumbled, standing up from the examination bed.

The doctor nodded his head and stood up as well, straightening his white lab coat.

"Come back tomorrow so we can discuss matters about the medicines, okay Mr. Vargas?"

The Italian nodded numbly and wordlessly picked up his coat and headed towards the door.

Feliciano didn't cry the entire way home. Instead, he walked home like a zombie, looking at the cement sidewalk and not even stopping to smell the pasta cooking at the local Italian restaurant. As he rode the elevator to his apartment at the very top of the building, the auburn haired boy slumped all the way down to the linoleum lining of the elevator's floor.

What would become of his job? He was an artist, a painter for God's sake! How would he function? He needed to be able to see if he wanted to cook pasta, how else would he know just how much he needed to make if company came over? But Feliciano shivered as he realized the biggest issue of all. What was he supposed to say to Ludwig?

A cheerful ding alerted the Italian that he was finally at his floor. Picking himself up slowly, Feliciano started for his door. Digging through his jean pockets, he found the metallic coldness of the key and brought it out, inserting it into the keyhole.

The door clicked open, and Feliciano entered into his humble abode, which smelled delightfully of fresh marinara sauce and the distinct scent of oil paints. Sighing, the Italian threw his coat onto the couch haphazardly, too deep in his own thoughts to care what Ludwig would say when he visited.

The first thing that the brown-eyed boy thought of was taking a bath. He hadn't taken a real bath in years, and why not now? Ludwig would be coming to his home in a couple of hours, and he might as well look as good as he could before breaking the news.

Turning on the water as hot as it could go, Feliciano started to take off his clothing one by one. He paused as he stared as his shirt. It was a dark blue, and he drank in the colors as much as he could, keeping the exact shade in his mind. The Italian wanted to be able to keep the memory of the color for as long as he could.

Before long, the mirror began fogging up from the heat of the water, and Feliciano dropped his shirt and toned down the water a bit before dipping his entire body into the steaming hot water. The said auburn haired Italian cringed at the heat, but steadily got used to the burning/ cooling sensation the water gave him. Once he was into the water completely, the boy relaxed into the water and stared at the bathroom tiles on the wall. They were just simply white, and his shower curtains had designs of Spanish yellow pasta strands and burnt sienna meatballs in scarlet spaghetti sauce with an ochre background.

Feliciano cried.

The smoky gray white steam rose from the bright pastel red pot of steaming water. A loud, musical dinging noise alerted Feliciano that Ludwig was finally here.

"Just a moment!" he called, wiping his hands with a green towel.

The Italian twirled happily towards the mahogany door and opened it happily. As soon as it was opened all the way, Feliciano could see a very tall, blonde German awaiting him.

"Ludwwigg!" Feliciano cried, latching himself to his friend's neck.

"Hello, Feliciano," Ludwig replied politely, patting his ever joyful friend on the back, "How are you?"

"Great! I'm making some spaghetti right now, you know, pasta! Ooh, and, and, I sold a painting a few days ago! I'm working on another one right now!"

The German gave a small smile and looked inside the apartment.

"May I come in?"

"Of course!"

A few moments later, Ludwig was seated on the small, simple table designed by a Swedish friend of Feliciano's, awaiting dinner.

"Ta-daa~" the brown eyed boy sang, presenting a large plate full of hot spaghetti pasta covered with marinara and fat delicious meatballs.

"Thank you, Feliciano," Ludwig said, picking up his fork and preparing to eat.

The blonde had already swirled up a forkful of pasta and was about to bring it into his mouth when he noticed his pasta-crazy friend had yet to even sprinkle the mozzarella onto his own dish. Instead, the Italian was staring into the sauce of the pasta. Something was up. There was no reason for Feliciano to leave a perfectly fine dish of spaghetti alone.

"Feliciano, is something wrong?"

The said auburn haired boy looked up to meet Ludwig's pale blue eyes.

"The pasta sauce is red, Ludwig," Feliciano said in an unusual deadpan voice, "And the spaghetti is yellow."

"Eh?"

"And the pot is red too. The stove is silver, the oven is black-"

"Feliciano…"

"And the pasta sauce is red!" the Italian hollered, putting his head into his hands, sobbing.

"Feliciano, if you don't want red sauce, we can use Alfredo instead," Ludwig said, his voice tense with worry. The German was steadily rising from his seat.

"No! No! Alfredo is white, I-I don't want white!"

"Feliciano!"

The shout from Ludwig shook the Italian awake, who promptly stared into his friend's eyes. Tears were streaming down his face, and Ludwig realized that something was seriously wrong with Feliciano.

"Your eyes are blue, Ludwig."

"Feliciano, stop! What are you doing? What's wrong?" Ludwig yelled, slamming his hands onto the desk.

The auburn haired boy cringed and started to cry again, wiping his cheeks every so often. The German didn't mean to frighten his friend so badly, but he had no choice. He needed an answer from Feliciano.

"Ludwig, my-"

There was a loud knock on the door. Feliciano shut his mouth and began to quickly wipe his eyes with his sleeves, but Ludwig grabbed his wrist.

"I'll answer it."

Feliciano stared at Ludwig's eyes, but nodded silently making no further attempts to clear the tears on his cheeks.

Ludwig walked to the door and opened it wide. In front of him stood a young man with wild dark chocolate hair, which had a hair that curled away from his head. He had deep violet eyes and sharp glasses that sat at the bridge of his nose. A small mole rested at nearby his chin.

"Excuse me, who are you?" Ludwig asked cautiously.

"My name is Roderich Edelstein, I live across this apartment," the young man replied, pointing behind him to another door. Adjusting his glasses, he continued, "I was practicing my music when I heard some disturbances from Feliciano's place. I became worried so I came over. Is something the matter?"

Ludwig sighed as he answered, "No, we just had a little argument. I'm sorry that we bothered you."

Roderich nodded curtly, "It's fine. Just please, keep the noise level down. Have a nice day."

The German managed a small wave before the man turned and returned to his own home. Ludwig exhaled and closed the door. As he turned, Ludwig found Feliciano right next to him, almost bumping him.

"Was it Roderich?" Feliciano asked.

Ludwig nodded and cleared his throat.

"Feliciano, you were about to tell me something?"

The boy winced as if something had hit him and he looked away for a moment.

"Ludwig… m-my eyes… they're…"

"Yes?"

Feliciano took in a shuddering breath before continuing, "They're… sick…"

"Was (what)? I don't understand."

"In a few years, Ludwig, I won't be able to see. I'm going to be blind."

The world stopped for a few seconds for the German.

"Are you serious, Feliciano?"

The Italian nodded, a weak smile plastered across his face while tears still continued to drip down from his eyes.

"S-so I don't want you to be bothered by m-me. If you want to, you can l-leave me-"

"Feliciano, don't say that!"

Ludwig grabbed the young man's lithe shoulders as he continued. "You of all people should know me by now. I won't leave you, Feliciano. I love you too much to do that."

Feliciano looked up at Ludwig's baby blue eyes as soon as his boyfriend had said "I love you".

"You can't love me," Feliciano sniffed sadly, "I'll just drag you down. You won't be able to do anything."

"No, Feli-"

"Please don't love me."

"…Fine. Just remember that… I love you, so much."

Ludwig got up and left, but the Italian had no heart to see his friend go. When he heard the door close, Feliciano collapsed to the floor and began to cry.

The pasta was still warm.

Several weeks had passed, and the bottles of medicine in Feliciano's bathroom increased.

Sighing, the Italian swallowed several pills with a swig of water. After doing so, he splashed cold water on his face, but instead of wiping his face with the towel, he stared at his reflection in the mirror.

The clear droplets of water dripped from his nose and cheekbones. Some fell from nearby his eyes, looking like tears. A few clung to his hair and the wayward curl that always stuck out from his head. However, along the edges, his face seemed foggy. Scared, Feliciano started to wipe fervently, hoping with all his might that it was just steam. Thankfully, where ever his fingers touched, the mirror cleared, proving that it was only the steam from the shower.

It was too quiet though. There wasn't any sound in the house. No sound of his furniture being dusted or clothes sorted out by a certain OCD blonde German. It was all Feliciano heard these days: nothing. Leaning on his arms to the sink, the Italian pressed his head onto the mirror. His sink was white like the sunshine that fell across his bathroom from his equally white window…

Feliciano's fingers began twitching. He lifted his head and stared at his peachy, slightly red fingers. The medicine cost a lot of money, and he hadn't painted since his diagnosis. Painting was his only source of income, so Feliciano would have to start right away. Feliciano left the white bathroom. He didn't want white.

Once the boy arrived in his painting room, he immediately prepared the turpentine and waxed paper and brushes. Bringing out an empty canvas from the closets in the room, Feliciano placed it gently onto his wooden easel. After finishing his preparations, the Italian rested on the stool in front of the enormous sheet of compressed cotton. He picked up a brush, and squeezed out a small amount of cobalt blue onto the waxed paper. Mixing a bit of turpentine into the paint, the auburn haired boy dipped his small paintbrush into the oil paint. Slowly, he brought it to the canvas, but hesitated when it touched the canvas. Something didn't… feel right. Something was missing.

"Ah! I forgot about eating pasta this morning!" he cried, standing up from his stool, almost tearing up in realization.

Wait that wasn't it… Oh, right. Ludwig wasn't meeting with him anymore. Ludwig wasn't-

The phone rang.


Yes, finished... the first chapter! There's only going to be one other chapter so don't worry. HP will be finished! (eventually).

*slinks back into the corner to mope*