Okay, well this isn't my first fanfiction, but it is the first I've uploaded here.

Constructive criticism is welcomed and encouraged. Also, I'm terribly sorry for the length of this chapter. I promise longer ones are on the way.

This was one of the coldest years Lovino had ever known.

Hailing from the sunny Italian Peninsula didn't really help your case when the temperatures were basically freezing. He ended up in the worst place imaginable: the United States of America. Well at least for him it was.

Who the hell even wants to go to Dallas for vacation? Really, this place was bad enough before it turned into a desolate wasteland from the nuclear war that had taken place barely a year ago. The city looked even creepier when it was basically rotting away.

Lovino didn't know why he was still hanging around. Maybe it was because he didn't know where else to go. Maybe it was because he was afraid of what was expecting him once he left.

The map said he was a couple hundred kilometres from Galveston. He just wanted to get out of this wretched city. The trip would be long, but it was worth it. Maybe the water hadn't frozen over yet.

Heaving himself over a cracked concrete divider with a loud grunt, his mind wandered to his little brother, Feliciano. The 17 year old boy wanted to visit the states for a vacation, particularly Texas for some odd reason.

Now that he was remembering, that odd reason was to visit his friend, Matthew, who lived in Dallas with his older brother Alfred. They had met once before and Feliciano reassured his older brother that Matthew and Alfred were 'really cool and nice, plus they make funny jokes!'

He found one of them annoying, if you can guess who. What's worse, they slept in Alfred's apartment instead of a hotel like originally planned.

Lovino's heart clenched painfully at the thought of his brother, who had died when the war had just begun along with Matthew. Tendrils of grief and blame and regret coiled around his head and consumed his thoughts, swirling them into dark apologies for something he couldn't have prevented.

As he walked down the torn up street, the rifle in his arms was poised dangerously, aimed in front of him as he crawled his way toward a collapsed bridge ahead. His eyes scanned the snow underfoot through the black gas mask strapped to his face. No prints, no queer looking indentions or streaks of any kind. He was alone. Lovino decided that the best place to sleep would be under the broken section of the bridge that looked like a cement tent. How fun.

The ash clouded sky hung over him like a death trap; with no real sense of time, the Italian rested when he felt tired or hungry. For all he knew, it could have been the middle of the day.

But he wouldn't know thanks to some idiotic world leaders who decided a nuclear war would be a nice experience. He silently prayed the morons responsible for this mess were dead. Hopefully they died with the same regret and shame he himself felt now.

After what seemed like forever, Lovino finally reached the spot he would reside in for a couple hours. Two plastic Jersey barriers were blocking the entrance to a beat up old sedan underneath the bridge, strangely convenient. He shouldered his rifle and stepping in further to examine the vehicle.

He found heaven.

The car was packed with bags and blankets, messily hiding the cans of food and bottle water.
This was it, this was what he needed. And he didn't really care who it belonged to.

Lovino opened the creaky, rusted door slowly before slinging off his backpack and proceeding to stuff it with his newly found treasure. A couple seconds into his pigging out, he heard a heavy clank nearby.

Oh no.

The brunet barely avoided snapping his neck as he turned quickly to look at the looming man at the other side of the shelter, some distance away from the car. He was utterly terrified. Lovino knew he wouldn't be able to win a fight against this man.

It seemed they were both frozen in their spots, and Lovino could only take in the broad shouldered frame, heavy boots, large gas mask, and layers upon layers of clothing and shawls and scarves. This man, no doubt, was easily 6 feet tall compared to the mere 5 feet and 6 inches of Lovino. What stood out the most was the sniper rifle strapped to the guy's back.

The Italian hurriedly zipped up his backpack, slinging it on his shoulder before whirling around on his heel and bolting away. For once he was thankful of his superb running ability, even in the thick snow with the heavy backpack bouncing around. Lovino heard the man just as he jumped over the Jersey barriers.

He wasn't going fast enough. This guy was definitely going catch him.

All his hopes were slowly being drained away as he heard the footsteps become closer and closer. The momentary absence of footsteps, he decided, was the man going over the barrier. With the rifle clutched tightly in his arms, Lovino stopped for a split second, his gut driving him to turn right.

Too slow, too slow.

The brunet was cut off mid step by a heavy body slamming into his, pushing him to the floor face first and sending his weapon flying across the street.

He was painfully aware of the muzzle of a rifle digging into the back of his head.

"Get off!" Lovino wheezed, thrashing wildly to try and push his attacker off, who had settled on his back. The man pinned his opponent's wrists above his head with bruising strength. "Get off me!"

The man didn't respond and instead worked the backpack off of the thief. "Who do you think you are?" The Italian's voice was muffled by the mask, which was pressing painfully into his face.

"Who are you?" A snarling voice resonated from the black gas mask above him. His breath caught in his throat. It was a familiar voice that he couldn't quite pinpoint.

With no response, the man became aggressive, "take off your mask!" Lovino growled out a string of curses in his native tongue, followed by a command to be let go. With that being said, the man climbed off of him but kept the rifle trained. "I said 'take off your mask!'" He barked angrily, aiming the weapon at the shorter man's head. "Damn, chill!" Lovino snapped, holding up his hands carefully as he undid the straps of his mask.

The putrid, ash-filled air invaded his lungs, sending the man into a violent coughing fit. "Holy hell!" He wheezed, gripping the mask tightly as he doubled over. "Wha- Lovino?" The voice of the attacker became soft, even chirpy, as he lowered the gun and stepped forward. "Oh my god, Lovino!" The taller of the two flung his arms around the Italian, making him stumble back with the gun clacking between them. "Get the hell off me, idiot!" Lovino snarled, smacking him in the head with his mask and effectively getting him to let go.

"Ouch!" The man feigned hurt, probably pouting behind the mask. "Don't you recognise me, huh? It's me, Alfred! Alfred Jones, you know, the Dallas guy." The name sounded terribly familiar but he just couldn't put a face to it. "Come on, how can you not remember me?" Lovino crossed his arms, nose red from the cold. "I don't know, maybe because you're wearing a fucking mask?" To which the other undid his own gas mask, revealing a mop of unruly blond hair and sharp blue eyes. It took only seconds before he practically hacked up his lungs as well. "Holy shit, that stings-"

Finally it clicked in his mind. This was the guy who he was with during the war, before they were split up. A silent part of him wanted to thank Alfred for getting him out of fighting in America, but another part of him wanted to choke the man for turning them into the authorities.

"Yes, I remember you." He sighed wearily, putting the mask back on his face securely before snatching up his backpack and trudging over to pick up his rifle. "That's great!" Alfred cheered, walking beside him. "Hey. Why were you stealing my stuff though?"

Of course this question was expected, and Lovino already had an answer, "I was hungry, idiot. My supply is running low…" Alfred breathed a soft 'oh' before clapping his hands together. It seemed he came to the realisation that Lovino would let him starve if he was anyone else.

"I've got plenty of food, and you can sleep in the car too." The offer was tempting but Lovino knew better. What if the guy stole all of his stuff? "I'm fine, I can take care of myself." The rifle was slung over his shoulder, joining the black backpack full of stolen goods.

"Alright… But you know I can't let you just take all of my food right?"

Lovino was also expecting this, and he gave a soft nod. "Yeah… But I really need this." His mind reeled to find a suitable explanation. "I'm heading South. To Galveston, I want to see the ocean."

At this, Alfred perked up. "That's great! I was also going South, we can travel together."

Neither of them question why the other was still in Dallas.

~/~

Lovino didn't know why, but somehow he'd ended up with Alfred inside the sedan, sorting out their supplies for the long journey ahead of them. A little part of him regretted agreeing to the trip. According to the map, the trip would be 547 kilometres when taking the main roads. Hopefully the bridges were in good enough shape to travel.

They talked about trivial things, things of little importance now. Alfred was 20, in college, on his way to becoming a fighter pilot. Lovino was 22, an architecture student. They had it going for them before things went sour. As the conversation continued into hobbies, they steered clear of family.

They didn't talk about Feliciano. They didn't talk about Matthew. They only talked about themselves.

"We should get some sleep…" Alfred yawned, triggering Lovino to do the same. "Yeah, sure. I'm tired as hell." They settled down on the reclining seats in the front section of the car, leaving their bags in the back and wrapping themselves in all available blankets.

Sleep did not come easy to the blond, especially with the strange shadows lurking on the rooftops.
Alfred said nothing.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!