"Fratello!"
"Lovi!"
"Lovino!"
"Stop it!"
"You're killing him!"
Feliciano's voice feels a billion kilometers away. It grows in desperation, but somehow I find that he just keeps becoming easier and easier to tune out. My body moves without me, hatred giving way to purpose. I don't stop long enough to think, and I'm not sure if this is by choice or if it's just a result of the way my stomach twists every time I strike him. If I keep going then surely I won't have the time to regret that I haven't stopped.
Tears blur my vision as I feel my knuckles come into contact with his soft, subtly-wrinkled skin once more. It's hot, I'm sweating and panting but I don't know why. I think for a brief moment that I'm the one being attacked and perhaps that's why I feel so awful.
Did he hit me or did I hit him?
He's still breathing, right?
Why do I care!?
He's going to kill me! I need to kill him!
I feel warm arms surround me, a weight against my back, something wet dampening my shirt. "Lovi, please," soft, desperate whining mixes with the faint scent of my sweat and grandpa's blood and fills the room. I squirm to break out of Feli's embrace, but his skinny, weak arms are determined to be strong. I have little choice left but to freeze and finally face what I've done.
Grandpa has a swollen eye, a cut lip, a bloody nose, an angry bump on his scalp, and God only knows what else. I can't look anymore. I slide down, my knees brushing against the discolored carpet, and Feliciano falls onto me.
I'm a big bundle of anger and limbs and I refuse to move. "We need to take him to a doctor," I can hear Feliciano whisper, his mouth tucked against my shoulder. I don't respond. I feel like I'm waking up from a nightmare only to find that I was never asleep. I feel him climb over me, his knees accidentally stabbing into my stomach and bathing my numbness in pain. He wordlessly rises to his feet before bending over, his hands reaching out and his fingers circling around grandpa's arms. With a small obligatory groan he attempts to hoist the old man off of the ground, but makes absolutely no progress.
His shimmering, tremoring honeysuckle eyes meet mine, and I try, I really do, to hurry to his side, but then my vision shifts down to our grandpa again and I give up. I'm left briefly wondering how difficult it would be to will one's self to die, before lowering my forehead down against the ground in an attempt to ignore the idiotic universe that keeps existing despite my protests.
Feliciano's sniffling grows louder by the second, only paused by his quiet murmurings to grandpa. It makes my chest hurt a little, listening to him reassure our grandfather that everything will be okay through a curtain of tears that guarantees that it won't.
I hear a set of harried footsteps, a door slams, and the room falls silent. I know that I need to get off the ground and run into my room before Feliciano returns with help, so I reluctantly force myself up. Grandpa's chest lifts and lowers at an alarmingly slow rate. He's always been so strong, a warrior of the modern age, someone I secretly looked up to but knew I could never reach. Now, he's just a broken, bloody mess at my feet. Even with the rage fueling and steering my blows, it seems unlikely, if not impossible, that I could so easily bring him down. He could have destroyed me in a matter of seconds if he had really wanted to. But all of his attempts to defend himself had been so feeble, and did he even try to fight back?
I don't think I let him finish his sentence earlier. I just shot the messenger as soon as the memo left his lips. I've always been like this. I'm a bastard who didn't even realize that through every curse, glare, and cold-shoulder I was signing my own death warrant. Feliciano is going with me, so I guess that I doomed him too...They're all too damn ignorant to see how much better than me he is.
I hear the front door open, but it sounds too tiresome and futile to think of fighting my fate any longer. After all, I probably deserve it. I turn my head away from the light spilling through the open door, wishing away my identity. Faceless people flood in, and I know that this the last time I will ever be able to see him. This is my last chance to say what I didn't give him the chance to.
"I'm sorry," I say softly, hoping that only he can hear me, but knowing that that may not be the case, "I didn't... I didn't mean to." I'm not certain what I didn't mean to do, attack my innocent grandpa who is my only advocate in a world that hates me as much as I hate it. Or maybe I didn't mean to be born, because that was obviously a mistake too.
Grandpa gazes back at me with eyes that manage to somehow be both empty and full. "I wouldn't blame you if you did," his voice is even fainter than mine, so for a moment I'm left standing there wondering if that's really what he said before he flashes me a pained smile and someone pushes me out of the way. He's taken off to the hospital by some neighbors I never even knew we had, and a cop that's seen a few too many doughnuts through the course of his career forces my hands behind my back and into a pair of cuffs.
You know things are bad when you begin daydreaming about being taken to jail.
I don't know where Feliciano went, he probably left without me, hoping that he'll be able to die without having to see my face ever again. "Your gramps tell you where you're going?" I can hear the cop, his mouth too close to my ear, his breath warm and stale, his tone cold and mocking, but I refuse to answer him. Apparently he takes my silence as a no, or maybe he's the type of fat bastard that actually enjoys being the bearer of bad news. "You and your little brother were chosen to be this decade's gift to the Spirit of the Woods, so I'm just gonna' take you right up there."
Earlier today this man sat in town hall, stomach rubbing against the seat in front of him and attention wavering, as parents pleaded for their children to be spared and cast their votes for the town's only set of lazy orphans from a country too far away for them to even imagine. It doesn't matter to him who dies, he's just glad that he can haul this year's trash to the dump and keep the scavenging rats at bay.
We get in his car, or rather he shoves me in and I grit my teeth, knowing that I likely won't be making any decisions for myself from this point on. We drive in silence, and I find my eyes glued to the window as I frantically search for something beautiful to remember this world by. I don't notice when the car lurches to a stop, I'm too busy realizing that all I'll be able to remember about this world is that it's disappointing. I only look up as my window suddenly disappears and the cop begins pulling me out of the empty space where the car door used to be.
"Good luck," he mumbles as he quickly rips my handcuffs off and waits, a satisfied smirk on his face, as I make my way under the covering of the trees. I hold my breath, expecting my death to come to me instantaneously as though the trees themselves have conspired to release carbon monoxide instead of oxygen.
After the initial shock of being here begins to fade away with a confused fog of me questioning my continuing existence, I'm able to breathe, think, and hopefully function again. The forest isn't full of dark shadows and demons like it was in the tales Feli and I passed through whispers as we grew, expecting those stories to remain nothing but a playful nightmare that we would never have to face in the light of day. It is nothing but a forest, dirty and peaceful, and reminiscent of the one and only camping trip that grandpa took us on; where Feli whined about the lack of pasta, and I whined about how shitty our tents were.
Movement through the mask of trees catches my eyes and as a scream catches in my throat it dawns on me that it may just be my brother. I push my way through the canopy, an uncertain burst of hope now present in my bloodstream. A large figure looms before me, intimidating and quite obviously anyone but Feliciano. I flinch, despite myself, as he turns to face me, bright blond strands of hair stretching downwards to meet baby blue eyes and a grin that makes my cheeks feel hot.
Neither of us speak for a moment, eyeing each other with bit lips. He lets out an obnoxiously loud sigh as he strides closer to me. "Don't worry," he claps his hand down on my shoulder, "I'm a hero so we are all going to be totally fine!"
I wonder if this clunky bastard even understands what he's saying.
I know that each town surrounding the forest shares our morbid tradition, but I hadn't been expecting to encounter any of my fellow sacrificial lambs. I hadn't even been expecting to live this long, but somehow a hopeless march to my death has morphed into a cheery stroll through the forest and a chitchat with a perky blond.
I blink at him, too caught off guard and weirded out to do much else. He worms his clammy hand into my own and begins to tug me forward. "There's a shack over here," he pauses, glances over his shoulder at me and winks, "I know, weird, right?" I finally take a hesitant step forward, afraid that my arm will be ripped out of its socket if I don't. "Oh, my name's Alfred by the way," he says, as my strides finally lengthen to match his own.
I'm a bit surprised when my mouth actually manages to open and I reply with a mumbled, "I'm Lovino."
His eyebrows rise as his smile grows, white teeth reflecting the rays of the sun. "No way! Dude, that name so rocks!"
I nod my head slowly, "Course' it does." He laughs at this. I'm not sure why. His laugh is annoying and noisy. It bothers me, yet I can't bring myself to tell him to shut up, and that bothers me worse than anything else.
We wander onwards a breath longer, until the umbrella of leaves suddenly begins to thin out, and it's clear that we've arrived at our destination. Before us is this ugly cabin, that looks like it wishes that it had seen better days, but never really has. The wood is peeling down to kingdom come, and I'll count my blessings if the roof doesn't crush me as soon as I walk through the door.
"We're both kinda early, most towns like to put together a whole little ceremony deal on the eve' of the fifteenth, I've heard. I guess ours' are the exceptions, though. Mine was just like, 'we're really sorry! It's nothing personal!'" Alfred laughs again, but this time the noise is far softer and I can see for the first time that this boy is not exempt to the fear and betrayal fogging up my own heart. He wraps his fingers around a small wooden plank, jutting out from a larger plank that looks like it might have been a door once, in a former life.
It's rather dark inside, the only light seeps in through square holes in the wall that have window-sized pieces of chopped up trees lying beneath them, obviously intended to cover up the opening in times of great need. The building is also wondrously empty. Honestly, from the buzz of excitement in Alfred's voice as he mentioned this place, my expectations were far too high.
A few chipped chairs that seem to mock the mere notion of comfort lie, lopsided, in one corner. A tiny round table, flipped over and notably not worth the wood it was carved out of, is placed in front of the chairs. A man, hunched over against a wall, blond hair and shaking hands covering his face. A pair of zipped up suitcases at his feet. Walls that echo with one sharp whimper from the unknown figure, a roof that causes Alfred to stoop over in a fashion that will no doubt leave him with a broken neck, and a vast empty tension that is tangible in the air surrounding us.
This, I reason, is our only sanctuary from the creature of lore that may or may not be waiting for us just outside of its walls. Unless...
"Why are you even still here, bastards?" Alfred seems shocked by my words, his palm brushing against my lips until he realizes that it's far too late to stop me. He glances nervously at the other blond before returning his gaze to me.
"Well that's the thing," he answers, sheepish frown, darting eyes, "Artie here," he gestures to the other boy who finally lowers his hands and swivels his head around until his grass tinted eyes meet mine, "Says that if we leave the forest we'll immediately die."
"What do you mean, bastard!?" I snap, hands on my hips in a juvenile way as I attempt to look more pissed off than I truly am. Honestly, I'm just sad; sad and scared and far more used to the idea of dying than I ever thought that I would be.
Alfred opens his mouth to answer, all traces of his former mood being crushed under the weighty topic of conversation. Artie is a second quicker, however, his eyes close again as his words begin to spill out unfiltered. "There was a girl and her older brother here from another village. He was desperate to get his sister away from this bloody hellhole, so as soon as Alfred and I met them they turned back around and left the forest. I poked my head through the trees to warn them that leaving may not be such a great idea, but they were already..." His speech comes to a sudden halt, causing my mind to paint gruesome images of the many possible endings of this tale.
The outcome is already obvious, and I wonder if it makes me a sick bastard that the question, "How did they die?" still can't help but leave my lips. He says nothing, but his whole body vibrates with each breath and his nails keep absentmindedly digging into the soft flesh of his forearms. "Artie!" I shout, finding that his nervous breakdown is rapidly trying my patience.
The simple call of his name, causes his body to settle and a small, haunted smile ghosts over his features. "My name is Arthur. Do not let me hear you call me that horrid nickname against, it's atrocious enough when Alfred uses it." He stands up, stumbling as he attempts to deny that the action is difficult at the moment.
Normally I would try to put a bastard like him in his place, but as I watch Alfred wrap his arms around him, resting his chin against the top of his skull, I realize that I really don't want to be left alone in this mess. So, I allow for a simple, snarky, "Alright fine, Artie," to suffice. His cheeks grow red as he half-heartedly shoves Alfred away from him, and shoots me a glare that could have caused the London Bridge to fall down.
"So basically," Alfred says, stepping between the two of us before we both gain the ability to shoot lasers out of our eyes, "The Spirit of the Woods does exist and it's not going to let us leave right now." His tone is far more airy than his words, and his features contort a bit as he pauses, noticeably bothered by this. "But if we stay here we'll be okay! Lovi, Artie, I promise that I'm gonna' keep ya' safe!" He does a mock salute, his eyes vibrant with the optimism he possessed outside, and then slings one arm around my shoulders, and the other around Arthur. We both push him away instantly, and then glare at each other once more, blood swimming around our cheeks as we realize how synchronized our motions were.
"I need to go find my brother, bastards." I spin away from them, trying to make it out of the door before either of them has the chance to get under my skin again. It seems that I'm too slow, or maybe Alfred is just so like a puppy on crack that I never stood a chance.
"You have a brother!" he gapes, thrusting the door open and dashing outside, hands beckoning for me to follow.
"Yeah, Feliciano," I mutter, beginning to feel dizzy and panicked as images of Arthur's unspoken words sour my mind again, this time with my brother as the hopeless victim; sightless eyes, skin alive with ravenous maggots.
Next to me, Alfred screams and claps his hands, drunk with the anticipation of having another person to drive off the wall. "That name is adorable! How old is he?"
"Sixteen," I answer, picking up speed as I do my best to drown out his voice with the noisy thuds of my heart.
"Ooh! Same as me! Same as me!" he cheers.
I start to run and after a moment come to realize that he is no longer by my side. I know that it's ridiculous, but this stupid forest already has me so damn on edge that I actually begin to think that maybe something bad happened to the bastard. Just as I'm about to yell out his name, "Feli!" he yells out my brothers. I turn around, heading back in the direction of the shack, trying to pinpoint where Alfred's voice originated from. Finally, I hear a burst of loud, unadulterated sobbing, and I whip my head around to see Alfred giving Feli a piggyback ride.
"What the hell!?" I snap, attempting to pry my brother off of him. Feli allows himself to fall backwards into my arms, and he wipes away his tears to give way to a joy filled smile.
"I couldn't find you, Fratello, and I was so scared! Then Alfredo came and picked me up so that he could take me to you!"
Alfred laughs, patting Feli's head, not at all bothered by the odd caricature of his name. "Don't go trusting bastards that easily! He could have been kidnapping you!" I yell, pulling him a smidge closer to me, and lightly kicking Alfred's shin to notify him that I DO NOT want him touching Feli.
"Awe, Fratello! Alfredo is helpful and nice, don't be mad at him!"
"Alfredo is a pasta sauce," I grumble, beginning to push him towards the shack. We aren't at all far away, so Feli only trips over fourteen tree roots on the way back. Upon arriving at our new decrepit home sweet home, he dashes forward ahead of Alfred and me, giving the wreck an all-too-judgmental stare.
"Ew! It looks creepy!" He winces and scurries behind me. I roll my eyes and open my mouth to try to tell him to shut his, until I spot Arthur leaning against the wall facing away from us. He swivels towards us upon hearing Feli's complaints, and his shoulders lower as he lets out a puff of held air.
"Worried, bud?" Alfred asks, playfully slapping him on the back as soon as he's covered the distance between them.
"No!" Arthur quickly defends, "Why on earth would I be worried about you twits?" His set of moist eyes rest on me, and he frowns, willing them to grow colder as I meet his gaze.
Feliciano runs out from behind me-his mind once again preoccupied with rainbows and pasta-and being the poor judge of character that he is, skips over to Arthur and says, "Ciao! I'm Feliciano, what's your name?"
Caught off guard, Arthur fails to answer immediately, providing me with plenty of time to interject with a convincingly somber, "Artie."
The clouds switch up their position in the sky and the sun gets revealed to us in its full glory. Feli tilts his head back, his breath taken by the sky, ignorant of Arthur's steaming expression. "Nice to meet you, Artie." And for the first time in what feels like forever, I can't help but laugh.
The clouds soon shift again, though, and I realize with the force of a swift punch that I'm already getting too damn attached to these bastards, and that there's no way in hell that at least one of us isn't going to die here.
Sorry that this chapter wasn't very befitting of the 'horror' genre, the first few won't be, but I swear that I'm working my way in that direction.
Thank you for reading! Review, pretty please!
Also full list of the pairings that this fic will most likely include:
AmeIta, EngMano, LietPol, and Pruhun.
Ones that I may or may not include:
Frain 3 & Rochu
(I am well aware that many of these pairings are 'weird,' but if you really think about them...come on, they're adorable! Not saying that I don't ship more common pairings too, but these are my favorites.)