Bit of a vent fic here...It's pretty shitty and completely unthought out. Sorry.


His voice caught in his throat as he watched the man before him 'praise' him for his skills in battle. If only it weren't a lie.

Luciano's eyes wearily opened to the dim light coming through his window. Another night with bad memories and hardly any sleep. It was no wonder he had permanent bags under his eyes. He groaned softly and rolled over, arm slinging off the edge of his bed as he stared at the empty room. He really didn't want to start doing work, but he also didn't want to stay there and continue with those dreams. And so, he sighed and pulled himself up, weakly catching his balance as his feet hit the cold floor. Why, again, had he decided to get stone flooring? Oh well. Lazily, he dressed himself and made way to the kitchen, making a cappuccino to wake him up a bit.

He was alone today. Both brothers had gone to spend the weekend with friends. And he…well, he only had a couple. But they had other friends to hang out with….preferably over the cold-hearted, hot-headed Italian workaholic.

He slumped in his chair. This was all his grandfather's fault. If that bastard hadn't—

Luci sighed and sipped his hot drink, forcing the thoughts away. In the end, it was his own fault that people saw him that way. It was his own fault that he did all the work himself. It was his own fault that he was lacking sleep. It was his own fault that he was grumpy and got pissed easily. It was his own fault that no one liked him.

And he couldn't blame them. He hated himself. He hated the way he lived, the way he was constantly drowned in work, the way his mind was rotted with painful dreams and memories, the way people saw him, the way he saw himself…He hated his very being. No. He loathed it. But still he kept asking himself, 'What's wrong with the way I am?' Everyone tried to change him. His grandfather. His brother. His friends.

Sometimes he wondered if they even considered him a friend. Or maybe he was just some acquaintance that was only good for business.

He hadn't realized that his mind was drifting off, and his empty eyes were staring right ahead at nothing. His drink had gone cold. His fingers were numb. Shakily, he placed the drink out of his way and lay his head down on the table, face hiding in his arms. He stayed like that for a while; just a victim left to his own rusted mind. He'd lost all sense of the world around him as he went into a daze; not thinking, not dreaming, and not aware. He was just there, yet not at the same time.

"Hey, Luc…?" a voice called cautiously from behind. He paid no mind to it. "Luci?" it called again. "You alright? Hey." A hand was placed on the Italian's shoulder and gently shook him.

Luciano's eyes continued to stare into nothing, just emptily peeking over his arms. He didn't seem to be there at the moment.

"You're not dead, are you?" the voice joked, and the air filled with a sickening silence afterward. Shuffling was heard as the keep of said voice moved and crouched on the other side of the table. "Hey…" Red eyes met with the Italian's blank stare, and eyebrows furrowed in worry. Yet as the intruder reached forward to shake him again, the eyes wearily followed him. "Luci?"

"What do you want, bastardo…?" he mumbled and sent a weak glare up at the American.

"Ah—Well, ah…You weren't at the party, so I thought I'd come see what you were up to," Allen explained, smiling almost sympathetically.

Luci frowned. Party? He didn't even know about it…Not that he would have gone anyway. But not being invited at all was a different story…

"Hey…You alright? You never answered..."

No, I'm not. "I'm fine," he hissed almost too quickly. He knew he wasn't, but he'd gotten all too used to keeping his feelings to himself. He wasn't about to spill them onto some fucking American. Especially not one that was known for being a dick and blackmailing people. "I don't want to go to your stupid party. Now leave."

Allen frowned and instead pulled out a chair and sat across from the Italian, earning a hate-filled glare from the other. "Look, dude…I know I'm not exactly the most trustworthy person, but—"

"I told you to get out," Luci seethed.

"Luc—"

"Leave!" Luciano screamed and slammed his hands on the table, shooting up from his seat.

Allen looked up at him sadly and then down to the table. Slowly, he pushed the chair back, hearing it screech across the floor. And he stood. "Sorry," he apologized as he walked past the Italian, eyes not leaving the floor as he went along. Quietly, he left the room, and all that was heard was the soft click of the front door closing.

Luci didn't bother turning to watch him go. He stood there and waited for his shoulders to slack; for his anger to give way to despair as tears brimmed his eyes and silently rolled down his cheeks. Right there. That's what he hated most about himself. His anger. His hatred for the very thing he wished for; Company. Friends. Family. To not be alone anymore. And yet his emotions got scrambled again, and he lost his temper once more. It was no wonder nobody stayed around. It was no wonder he was hardly invited anywhere. It was no wonder nobody, not even himself, could like him. He'd just chased away someone who may have been genuinely caring toward him.

He bit his lip, holding back a whimper as he backed up and slid down the kitchen wall. Now sitting on the cold floor, he brought his knees to his chest and hugged himself, sobbing softly into his own being. 'Why am I even here?' he thought. Tears continued to leak from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks and soaking into his clothes. 'You're causing harm to your own people!' His grandfather's words sunk into him once again, and memories came flooding back. He was right. He was always right. Luci was nothing but a burden. A tiny, angry…burden.

Luci felt a hand on his back, and he jumped, staring wide-eyed. "Why are you still here?! Get out! Don't look at me!" he wailed, flinging a knife at the American.

Allen caught the knife at the hilt and slid it across the floor, away from the two of them. He adjusted himself and sat cross-legged against the wall, looking the Italian in the eyes. "I never really left," he stated in a whisper. His eyes drifted away, and he closed them, relaxing.

Luciano felt himself shaking. Not out of anger but out of….fear? Sadness? Happiness? He really didn't know. So many emotions were flying through him right then that he honestly had no way of differing them. He just…felt. Eventually, he relaxed and sat back against the wall, keeping a bit of distance between he and the American. While he was uncomfortable with the sudden company, it honestly relaxed him in a sense. Then again, he'd just been caught crying…..and in front of Allen, no less. He could already feel the blackmail coming. He could already see everyone—all of the countries standing there, laughing and mocking him. After all, he'd never been nice to them, so why be nice to him? He didn't realize that he'd begun shaking again.

Allen, noting the silence, opened his eyes and peeked over at Luciano. He saw the Italian's small frame shaking as his saddened eyes bored into the ground and once-again brimmed with tears. Furrowing his eyebrows, the American scooted closer and nudged the other to gain his attention. When Luci glared up at him, he returned the look with a smile, confusing the other. "Hey, you gonna tell me what's up?"

Luci gritted his teeth and forced himself to look away from that damn smile. "What's the point if you're just going to use it against me?" he asked casually.

Al's smile faltered. "Why would I do that?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Luci answered right back.

Allen frowned deeply and whipped himself around so that he was kneeling right in front of Luci. "You really think I'm that much of an ass?"

Luciano tsked and glanced away, only to have his face forcefully turned back by a hand. He glared into Allen's eyes with all his might, but it didn't seem to be working. More tears were unwillingly surfacing, and he fought his best to keep them back.

"Or…do you think anyone would do that?"

He didn't answer. There was no way he'd fall for this damn trick and give in. He bit his lip and hardened his glare.

Allen sighed. "Luci…"

"Stop calling me that."

"I have no reason to hold anything against you," Al stated honestly.

Luci hesitated and gave an unsure look. "I yelled at you."

Allen smiled crookedly. "Yeah, well, if I hated everyone that yelled at me, I'd end up alone." He chuckled childishly, and his eyes softened as a stray tear escaped from Luci's eye. He wiped it away as he brushed the back of his hand across Luci's cheek. He cuffed the other's face and gently tilted it up at himself. "Besides," he said, leaning in to place a kiss on Luci's forehead. "I don't think I could hate you."

Luciano blinked in confusion. He stared up at that sweet smile and felt his own heart fluttering uncomfortably. He tried thinking of some spiteful remark, but nothing came to mind except more confusion and curiosity. He swallowed nervously and looked Allen in the eyes, baffled by the caring gaze he was receiving.

Allen gave another heart-warming smile. "I'm gonna show you how much I don't hate you, okay?" he said and leaned down, placing a soft kiss on Luci's lips. He pulled back and looked him in the eye, making sure it was alright before he kissed him again.

He didn't know why, but Luci found himself kissing back and just letting go of his previous emotions as he was taken over by new ones. Something was comforting in being held in Allen's arms, lips locking with his own. He felt protected and loved. It seemed to come from nowhere, but he wasn't complaining. This American….he drove away those tears and hateful thoughts.

Eventually, Allen pulled back for breath and grinned lopsidedly. "See?" he said and rested his forehead against Luci's. "I can't hate you."