This is my first multiple chapters fanfic! I am very excited. My story should now actually be understandable now that I had an awesome editor (Kang Jae Gyu) to help me!

This story has Spain/Lovino, Prussia/Austria, Feliks/Elizaveta, Germany/Feliciano, and Switzerland/Liechtenstein (Human name is Lily in this story)

Chapter 1

My name is Lovino Fernandez Cerriado, and my husband's name is Antonio. I have a younger brother named Feliciano, who recently got married to Ludwig Beilschmidt. In my story, Ludwig may sometimes be called 'darn German bastard', but I guess that's just my affectionate nickname for him. Right now, I don't think our lives can get any better; if someone were to ask me why, it is because of our family. Not our biological family, but the one who adopted us and loved us even though we weren't one of their own. I would never admit that to them, of course; it is just not in my character - my nature, really - to allow my emotions to outpour so freely as my brother can, but I digress. It would not be honest for me to say that life has always been happy. No, our family has much pain rooted in its foundations, and yet we would all go through it again if it led to the happiness and content we have now.

This all really started when my brother was born. Those days with my biological family were still pleasant. I was only two at the time, but I can still recall an uncanny amount of detail. It was March 17th, 1985, and there was a slight frost in the air. My mother made me breakfast and fed me before the first painful contractions hit her. Mother was rushed to the hospital around 9am, my grandfather having previously packed her some pajamas and other essentials into a black duffle bag. She and my father left soon after I was done with my morning meal and ready to play with Grandpa. My grandfather, the only family member that was always nice to me and later my brother as well, put me into a light weight red sweater and let me play with my wooden train set in the living room. He helped with making the track more interesting, crisscrossing it, and making fun loops to amuse me. I didn't really know it at the time, but he was a very intelligent man.

The apartment's small size seemed cozy then. There were only two bedrooms, one for Mama and Papa, the other for my grandfather and me, but later on became Feliciano's room as well. The living room held two couches, both dark brown, that stood out in the beige walls of the place. My grandfather, even though quite strong and playful, had a permanent spot on the couch that was his, to the point he left an indent. Before my brother was born, we had just gotten a television for the parlor and Grandpa was strangely fascinated by it. Because we were supposedly a loving, bonding Italian family, it was encouraged that we didn't watch television except for news reports. Even when things got really bad, only adults were allowed to touch the television and its remote.

It's not that I blame my brother for the changes in our family. I love him very much, almost as much as I love my dear husband, but that was the last day when things with our old family were truly happy. I felt so sorry that he didn't get the chance to have happy memories with mother and father like I did, but then maybe it was a good thing. He didn't have any contradicting experiences that confused him about the situation we were dealt.

It was nine hours before the phone rang. I was now running around with only my underwear and a blanket as a cape, making "whoosh!" sound effects with my mouth, pretending I was flying about in the house. My grandfather chuckled before answering the phone. He talked for a couple of minutes, I can't remember what about, probably my antics and how I was doing. Once he hung up the phone, he swooped me into the air. "Hey super hero, that was Mama. You have a new baby brother! We have to get dressed," he said, and proceeded to dress me in proper attire. All my grandfather had to do was put on his grey scarf that matched mine and we were out the door. My father took the only car, so we walked to the hospital.

Our journey wasn't long. At least, it didn't feel that way to me because I was amusing myself with walking on the grass, liking the crunching noises it made because of the frost. My grandfather was smiling the whole time at me. When we got to mother's room, she was holding my little brother.

I stared at him intensely before asking: "is he going to get any bigger?"

Everyone laughed at my childish question before my mother said: "of course, Lovino. After all, you were small like this too when you were born."

"Oh." I couldn't remember, so I just quietly sat in the little space next to my mom on the hospital bed. Feliciano had lighter hair than me. He had mother's soft, almost silky hair. He would move his arms a little every now and then, and when he sneezed I winced. My brother looked so fragile and angelic, and I didn't want to hurt him, but my mother gently grabbed my hand and made me hold it out to Feliciano. Maybe it was just coincidence, but at that moment Feliciano grabbed my index finger with his tiny right hand. Sparks shot through my body. I didn't know at the time, but that was the first time I loved someone. My grin almost touched my ears, everyone else smiling at how happy I was. I had that same grin all day. Even when it was only me, Mama, and Feliciano late at night in the hospital. I snuck out of bed from my mother's side, and went to his crib. I slipped my arm between the white bars, and held my hand out to him. Maybe it was coincidence once more, but he rolled in his sleep and gripped my index finger with that same right hand.

Tears rolled down my face. I didn't know why at the time, and truthfully, I still don't know now. At that moment, I was really happy.

The madness in our house wasn't sudden. It was just that my mother was more irritable at my father. She would nitpick at the way he did chores around the house, his cooking, and how careless he was when playing with me and my brother. My father wasn't bothered by it at first; he just figured it was her hormones still out of it from having Feliciano. She then started to say other things: things about my father's success career wise, his personality, his friends, things that made my father very angry. He would yell back just as harshly. I couldn't really make it out because of the sheer volume of his voice, but it must have been horrible to make my mother cry. Before then, my mother never cried. My grandfather at first was outraged by their behavior, but my father inherited my grandfather's strong frame, and he punched the old man in the gut. My mother cried out and helped him up, but my grandfather didn't seem too injured. He just stood up, sat on his place on the couch, and watched television. Mom and Dad's arguments were getting worse. My mother would slap him in the face, bring other men into the house, and leave for lengthy periods of time.

Feliciano, as I expected, had many features that mother carried. He was beautiful, but it made Father angry. The man would force Feliciano - at three years old - to do all of the chores other than cooking when Mother was away and would beat me or my grandpa if we tried to help the young three year old at all. There was one time when Feliciano was doing the laundry in the month of May. Mother had been gone for three days and would probably return in another nine, and I helped carry the loads with him and back. When Papa found out, he would kick me in the chest and stomach repeatedly at the age of five, saying that people who were like Mama didn't deserve help. Grandpa suffered as well when he helped sweep the kitchen floors, but instead of kicks to the chest and stomach, he had burns on his arms. Everything was put on such a small kid, but Feli had mother's old optimism and did them as if they were nothing.

At night, when we would sleep in our shared bed, I would hug him very tight. I would kiss his face over and over, telling him how proud I was of him, and that any teasing I did, I did because he was so adorable. He would always smile back at me. "I know, big brother. I love you," was his response. Those were the only good moments that I could look forward to every day, when he would tell me he understands and loves me. He would hug me tight until our legs were a tangled mess that meshed together. I didn't know that my grandfather watched and was happy that we still could love even with the house the way it was; I only found this out after reading his old journal when I visited our former apartment many years later.

It was around August, I was still five years old and Feli was still three, when my mother and father were slowly reverting back to their old selves, and Feliciano was much more content around the house. Mama wasn't going out anymore for several days, she was the one doing chores, and she and Papa would even smile at each other and go out on dates together.

We thought those lovey-dovey dates would restring the severed ties of our family. How horribly wrong we were.

At 9pm on that night my parents had still not yet returned from their date. My brother and I, meanwhile, were playing in the living room. Grandpa just watched us; he was very tired from cleaning the kitchen that day so my parents could have fun. He didn't seem to mind, though; he was probably even happier than we were that our parents were getting along again. He had a glass of his favorite red wine, sipping slowly as I kept tackling Feli into the ground. My little brother kept squirming, trying to find any opportunity to slip from my grasp and pin me down.

Ring! Ring!

I was so distracted that Feliciano did find the opportunity, and now was on top of me. I gave a small "sh!" so that Grandfather could have silence while on the phone. Feli didn't mind as long as he was on top of me now.

"Hello? Yes, this is Angelo Vargas... what? No, that's impossible..." he gasped. Feli and I looked at each other, confusion evident in both our eyes. Grandfather was never upset that easily.

"Yes... there is a possibility it isn't them... yes, I will see you downstairs in 10 minutes then," he ended the call and reluctantly hung up the phone. He glanced at us, only to charge into his room and fish out an old photo of my father and mother. It was a picture before Feliciano and I were born, both flashing a long scar on their left arms. I never knew what happened to them for them to get such a scar, but it was one of the ways that Grandpa could quickly identify them. When he noticed the two of us staring at him, he paused, took a deep breathe, and kneeled down so he was around our level.

"I need to go see if Mama and Papa are at the police station. Lovino, I trust you with this house while I am gone. Do not open the door for anyone. I have a key." He pulled it out of his pocket to show us. "I'm sorry about this, boys." He gave us a kiss on the forehead before he left. He locked the door, the house becoming very quiet once he was gone. Feli and I decided to sit on the couch nearest the window, but saw that there was a police car waiting for my grandfather. He went inside, and they drove off.

"What is going on, Lovi? Is Grandpa in trouble?"

"I don't think so. He didn't have handcuffs on him. Maybe Mom and Dad are in trouble. After all, they're supposedly the ones at the police station." I didn't know how true my statement was.

"Are they fighting again?"

"Could be, Feli."

The mistakes that led to my parents' death was this: around 8:30pm, after eating dinner, my parents decided to go to the theatre. They both consumed a great amount of wine, but they were used to driving in such a state. My father before my mother came back used to drink vodka, gin, rum, and drive endlessly when my brother and I were asleep. Mother... well, as my grandfather described it in his journal, she had "wine for blood those days". My father seemed to have a foot as heavy as lead that night, and crashed into a brick wall at 95 miles per hour. All the trauma went to their necks; my mother's, sadly, did not stay attached and flung out of the windshield and splattered. I only saw photos that the police took of the scene when I was eighteen but I never knew about the grotesque detail of my mother's decapitation until my grandfather's journal divulged it to me. According to the entry, that night the police picked him up to identify their bodies because of that.

Life with Grandfather was much more peaceful. After I went to kindergarten class, he would take me and Feli to the park to play. Feliciano always liked the swing set, and I always liked to push him. I felt like a hero when Feli would smile from my pushes, and my energy for pushing him never ceased. It was only until my grandfather told us we had to go home to eat dinner did the two of us feel the fatigue from our activities. Even so, it was hard to separate Feli from the swing to eat dinner. The swing set is probably one of Feliciano's only happy childhood memories, though dinner with Grandpa was also a good childhood memory. We really liked dinner, for dinners were what my grandfather knew best. We always either ate pasta, pizza, biscottis, and bread. Personally I didn't care for pasta and pizza with lots of cheese, so I just pulled it off and put it on Feli's plate so that he was happy. He seemed to like cheese, but I just never had a pallate for it. We would also have milk or juice with our meal, while Grandpa had wine. However, he didn't seem to enjoy wine as much as he did before, but I guess it's understandable; losing your only son and daughter-in-law due to the very same beverage after they had just started to get along again would put a bad taste in anyone's mouth. As the year progressed, he stopped drinking any alcohol and just either played with us or sat on the couch watching television.

There wasn't any apparent medical reason for my grandfather's death a week before my birthday, on February 9th, but when Feli looked at his dead body, he said that "his heart is really torn."

We didn't go to St. Anne's Orphanage until I was six years old; paperwork from the police and other services takes that long, I guess. It wasn't a bad place, but it just wasn't a home. The walls were light blue, almost as pale as the sky. There were a few cracks here or there, and the nuns would ask the teenagers still in St. Anne's to help patch them up and paint over them. The floors were cold all the time, and the wood on them would squeek with almost every step; it probably helped for when children tried to sneak out during play time or school time.

Play time was actually kind of fun. There were multiple playrooms depending what age you were, but Feli got to stay by my side because I was his older brother. Sure, the first couple of days other children tried to pick on him, but because I learned some bad words living with my father they got scared away by my harsh language. In truth, if they continued to attack Feli, I don't know if I'd be able to fight back.

School time, on the other hand, was quite boring. Feli was put into nap time during then while I had to attend lessons as to not get too far behind normal kids in school. School time was also separated, but by knowledge level rather than age. Since I went to regular public school, even though it was just kindergarten, I was with kids at least two years older than me.

The orphanage actually fed us all very well. It wasn't a hell hole as many kids tried to make it out to be. At 7am to 10am, breakfast was served. It was hard for Feli to adjust to eating American food, but he grew to like the omelets with tomatos and cheese in them, and just as I used to do with my pizza and pasta I pulled my cheese out and gave it to him so he would be happy. Bread there wasn't like my grandfather's fresh, barely out of the oven kind. That was the worst part. The bread were stale, and occasionally had green speckles on them that were probably mold or fungus. I made sure to inspect Feliciano's bread before letting him eat it. Bread there was the only thing that really made me miss home. Then lunch would arrive; it was usually soup of some kind with crackers. Most of the time the soup was just some chicken and rice, but Feli seemed to like it. He didn't really seem to care how food tasted as long as it wasn't burnt. During dinner, there was a choice between soup or some meat and potatos. I would always choose soup, because I didn't really care for the mashed potatos.

At night, when we went to sleep, we still shared a bed to give space for other children... at least, that was the excuse I gave to the nuns because Feli wanted to sleep beside me. I don't blame him; after all, living in an abusive house and now in an orphanage, you want to be as close as you possibly can to someone you know loves you. I was glad that I could make him at peace so easily. He would always fall asleep first while I stayed up, stroking his hair, careful to not touch the out of place curl so that he didn't wake up. I had also inherited that curl; it was from our grandfather. I somewhat doubted that Feli would wake up if I accidentally brushed it, but I was careful nonetheless. Some days he would be so tired from the days in the orphanage that he chose to sleep during meals. He was a deep sleeper, too; nothing woke him up except when I pounced on him in the morning or a yanked really hard at his curl.

There was a nun who always came to all the rooms to make sure that everyone was asleep. Her name was Sister Sophia. Her footsteps barely made a sound, even on the oldest and loudest of floors, probably because she's so petite. As best as she tried, her long, curly light brown hair always found its way to peak out of her hood. She was very nice to me and my brother. It was probably refreshing for her to see siblings our age get along so well. She would always be the one to tap me on the shoulder as I carressed my brother, saying "you need your rest too, Lovino." With a compliant nod I would finally go to sleep.

Without a doubt, it was much more peaceful in St. Anne's than at home.

Except I didn't like the fact that Feli had to celebrate his birthday there. Birthdays weren't really celebrated, for the nuns didn't have enough money to buy cakes and decorate the place. Also, there was another reason why birthdays weren't celebrated: they meant that it was going to be harder for that child to be adopted. As age increased, appeal went down just as fast in the eyes of prospective parents. Despite all that, I wanted to do something nice for my brother. I wanted to fulfill his birthday wish, but I was hesitant. He wanted to go out into the park where Grandpa would always take us before we went to live at St. Anne's, but I told him that we couldn't. He kept crying about it, his big eyes with tears in the corners jabbing my heart with a dagger of guilt. Not until around lunch time while eating chicken soup and, for a change, that disgusting bread did I whisper to him: "alright, but it has to be when everyone's asleep and Sister Sophia has already inspected our room."

He grinned and pounced on me. "Yay! Thank you Lovi!"

"Yeah, yeah, don't get too happy. That means you get less sleep tonight because Sister Sophia doesn't come until 11pm."

Feliciano gasped. "How do you know? You actually stay up that late?"

"Yes, actually, I don't sleep very well-"

"What do you think of that late at night?"

I didn't really think when I carressed my brother to sleep, so I just made something up. "Squirrels."

Feli giggled until he could barely get any air into his little body. I slapped him on the back, muttering a "finish your food" before going back to eating.

That night I let Feli sleep from 8:20pm till Sister Sophia came. She told me as she always did every night to rest, and I closed my eyes. As soon as she closed the door, I got up and kissed Feliciano on the forehead. He stirred slightly, but I knew that he didn't like to get up from bed. Since I wanted to wake him up as quickly as possible, I gave an experimental yank at his hair curl. To my delight he woke up instantaneously.

"Come on Feli, wait for me outside on the fire escape. I'll go get our coats," I said softly. He wobbled toward the windows that opened up to the maze of ladders on the side of the building as I fetched our coats. His was a light blue with dark blue trim, while mine was tan with black trim. Donning our jackets, we bravely set foot out into the night.

We had only been at St. Anne's Orphanage for a month, so Feliciano and I still remembered our way to the park. The dark night was lit by the street lamps, and the only noise other than our breathing was the passing of a car every couple of minutes. There were no footsteps other than our own. It was strange what time did to a city, even New York. We crossed two streets, and followed a bike trail that was a short cut to the park. The trail had tall hedges on either side, with red rum honeysuckle flowers. Feliciano loved to touch the beautiful flowers and finger their soft petals. Although it was a great place during the day, both Feliciano and I agreed that it was pretty creepy during the twilight hours. Even so, we were kids, and we didn't know about New York's harsh night life; we weren't worried about being kidnapped or getting hurt in any way.

Our ghostly breath obscured our vision slightly, but as soon as we saw the park, Feli ran to the swings just as he had always done. I ran right behind him, laughing at his glee from seeing the metal playground. That night was so beautiful; the only light source was from the street lamp on the sidewalk near the playground and the only sounds were my little brother's laughter and the squeeking of the swing rocking back and forth. He kept yelling for me to push harder, and I kept at it, just as we did before the orphanage. I would do anything for him to be happy. I didn't know what time it was before we left, but by the time we snuck back into St. Anne's it was four in the morning. Feli didn't care, even when he woke up extremely tired. He hugged me that morning, saying that was the best birthday he ever had.

It was June of that same year when our adopted parents came. As sad and disgusting as this sounds, my new father would eventually become my husband. His friend Roderich and Roderich's wife (at the time) Elizaveta, adopted Feliciano. At first, both Feli and I protested, Feli crying because he wanted to sleep beside me and I crying because I didn't want to be separated from him. However, Sister Sophia hugged us both, saying it was going to be okay and that we would probably see each other all the time because Antonio and Roderich were neighbors. I was extremely relieved, while Feli still had some tears running down his face throughout the day because he didn't like the thought of sleeping alone. I embraced him, telling him it was going to be okay. Feli's crying always caused me pain.

Antonio thought I was adorable because of the way I treated my brother, and for some reason I just didn't like him at first. Perhaps it was the content in his bright green eyes, or the luster of his olive skin, or perhaps his bright smile. Either way, I didn't like him. In fact, when he opened the door to his black Mercedes Benz for me, I kicked him in the shins before getting in. He yelped in pain but then just laugh it off, probably thinking it was kind of cute. It was odd that I disliked someone who had a personality similar to Feliciano's, but I did. He didn't seem to care as he hopped into the driver's seat and sped off. He drove wildly. He sped down roads at 90 miles per hour, revved his engine, and took sharp turns. I didn't really know what to expect. I held onto my seat belt for dear life, screaming all the way there. It wasn't until we stopped in front of this white marble entrance of a building did the madness stop. I stopped to catch my breath while Antonio got out of his seat and helped me out of the car. I stepped out carefully, still slightly scared.

Antonio owned a condominium on the upscale side of New York. It was odd that someone as rich as him would want to adopt me, but I guess I had just won the lottery when it came to parents. Door men would greet him, adressing him formally and opening doors graciously for him and would park his expensive car into the exclusive garage. It was such as strange world for a little boy who lived in a small apartment and shared a room with his grandfather. The lobby of the building had columns that were similar to Rome. The walls were white like the columns, only having paintings and sculptures of local artists decorating them. The walls seemed over a mile long then, leading to a ceiling with a golden chandelier. The couches were a chocolate brown leather that gathered in the area near the fireplace. There was a table there too, with a variety of desserts that were restocked every hour or so. The fire place was made of dark marble, with golden flecks in its coloring, which matched the golden colored mantle. What was most interesting to me was the floor; the white marble on the floors had a tint of blue in it, the same blue that Feli's coat was, and the tint of blue became darker until it let to the black marble fountain. Feliciano and his new parents, the Edelsteins, were waiting for us, him vigorously waving his hand. My little brother ran up to me, almost tackling me to the ground saying: "I missed you!"

I smiled and held him. "How can you miss me in 20 minutes?"

He stared up at me. "... I don't know, but I did!" he exclaimed, and hugged harder. I laughed and kissed the top of his head. Antonio and Elizaveta gushed at our display of affection, while Roderich just smiled and adjusted his glasses. Even later in life, Mr. Edelstein was never really an emotional person. His personality and appearance perfectly matched. Roderich was what everyone pictured when they thought of a calm, intelligent gentleman.

Antonio, with his sparkling emeralds for eyes, kept staring at us. Roderich clapped him on the back, something about being such a pedophile. We kept hugging until Elizaveta reminded us that we still needed to get settled, go shop for new clothes, and most importantly, eat. Coincidentally, both our stomachs growled a low groan when Mrs. Edelstein mentioned that and she giggled.

When I met Elizaveta, I thought she was a very beautiful woman. Her eyes were green, but not as bright as Antonio's. Instead they were a rather dark green with flecks of yellow in the right light. Her hair was a light brown color and it was thick, long, and shiny. She was a slim woman, but she still had an hourglass figure. Her legs, which were covered from the knee up, looked long and lean. Her face was that of a woman who could still pass for a teenager, and her skin was soft and creamy to the touch. With this image firmly planted in my mind from the get-go (and despite the stories I would hear later on) I would never truly believe that she used to be a tomboy and the bully Roderich once feared. She was just too pretty to think that way of her.

She held Feli's hand, while I held his other hand.

"Come on, we've got to get you new clothes," she repeated gently.

"Huh? Why do we need new clothes?" Feliciano was truly confused at that.

"So that you look nice for our friends for dinner tonight," she said. With a soft "oh" from both of us, everyone hopped into Roderich's limousine. It was just a classic black one, with silver handles and trims. Feli's and my own eyes bulged at the sight of the vehicle; clearly, we still didn't understand just how rich these people were. The inside had brown leather, almost the same color as Antonio's hair, with a black carpet. On the black carpet, there was a white circle with a crest inside. It was a black hawk, with a golden crown that also looked similar to a castle. The bird had broken, silver chains attached to it's feet while the talons on its feet held a gold scythe and gold hammer. I kept staring at it in curiousity to the point that Roderich cleared his throat to get my attention. "That is the Austrian coat of arms, Lovino," he informed me. "My family is Austrian."

I nodded, going back to looking at it. The bird looked as if it wanted revenge, and it was almost frightening. Antonio wrapped his right arm around my shoulders, telling me that Spain was much cooler than Austria. I just snorted at his remark, making him pout.

"Eh, why are you not cute as soon as I talk to you? You're cute when you're hanging out with your brother. Do you hate me-"

"You're annoying, shut up," I interrupted. Antonio sighed.

"No wonder I don't have a wife; kid barely knows me for half an hour and already hates me!"

"Well, you aren't exactly who I would picture when I think of good parental material," Mr. Edelstein jokingly remarked to his friend. Because he held his emotions so well, it almost seemed serious at that time.

"Roderich," his wife chuckled. It was apparently normal for everyone to tease Antonio... we were just not familiar with it yet.

After quickly getting some pizza, we went shopping with Elizaveta holding our hands while Antonio and Roderich followed. We walked mostly into expensive boutiques with strange names such as "Prince Charmings" and "The Unusual" where both of us got two suits, several dress shirts and ties, a couple of pants, some jackets and coats, and a variety of shoes. Even though Elizaveta was the one picking outfits, it was Roderich or Antonio that decided what we, their new sons, were getting. Feliciano's favorite part of shopping was that he got another coat that was light blue, similar to the one he had now. I never knew until I got another look at it that I had accidentally made a hole in it on his birthday at the park. He never told me. I would have apologized if I knew, but I guess it didn't really matter to him.

Because we were small children, we soon tired from shopping and whined about going home. Elizaveta finally agreed, saying that the shopping could continue at another time.

We rode the elevator up to their condominiums. Feliciano and I held hands on the way up inside the elevator; apparently Feli didn't enjoy the sensation of ascending upward. How unfortunate that we lived on the fifteenth floor, but he would eventually get used to it. Antonio tapped my shoulder and held his hand out to me. Even though I didn't really like him still, I took his hand for some reason. Something unexpected happened then. It was then that I felt that same electricity flowing through my body that I felt when I first held Feliciano's hand. I stared intensely at Antonio, who stared back with a soft smile. Maybe he felt it, too.

That was the second time in my life I loved someone.

I quickly turned my head to Feli, who had a big grin on his face. He figured it out faster than I did, but he was always better with emotions so it was no big surprise. I snorted, knowing he was laughing on the inside at me. When the elevator finally stopped, we walked down the hall to our left a couple of steps and were in front of their condos. Antonio's condo was 1523, while Roderich's was right across from him and it was number 1525.

Antonio's place had an earthly color scheme, with lots of tans, browns, reds, and greens everywhere. The plush carpet that I felt after I removed my shoes was a light tan, almost beige color. It covered most of the floor of the living room, the living room itself being so large that the old apartment could fit in there. Red velvet couches were placed near large windows that allowed a beautiful view of the city. I ran to one of the windows, almost pressing my face against the glass, staring out onto the city below. It must have looked silly to see a child running toward the window just to look at the view of the bad parts of the city, but I couldn't help it. Even though I couldn't see any of the places I was familiar with, I was amused by the sounds of the cars and the lights of the city. Returning my attention to the apartment's interior, I noticed a gas fireplace with a large television right next to it. I didn't really care for television because of my biological parents' rules about it, so I ran to the kitchen which was beyond the fireplace. There was no longer plush carpet; there was dark, cherry wood on the floors of the kitchen. I shivered slightly at the cold touch of the wood, but ventured onward. Unlike the wood in the orphanage, it didn't creak or make any noise when it was stepped on. The dark granite counter tops had specks of gold, bronze, and brown mixed into the black sheen. There were black appliances as well, and all the cabinets were dark cherry wood just like the floor. Even though it was a dark room, it felt warm. Suddenly Antonio swooped me into the air, saying that we should get dressed for dinner at Roderich's place.

He carried me to my room and I gasped. I immediately wiggled out of his grasp and ran to the bed to jump up and down on it. At long last I had my own room, and I couldn't contain my excitement. It was mostly dark green, with some brown and black mixed it. Antonio joined me eventually, jumping up and down before finally catching me in midair and jumping off the bed with me in his arms. Those same sparks flew through my body, and I almost froze in his arms. He took my frozen posture as something else though.

"Oh, are you amazed by my muscles? Yeah, I used to be a famous bullfighter," he bragged.

I was astonished. "Really? That's so cool! Did you have a red cape and everything?"

"I sure did." He handed me my tan suit, a black dress shirt with a large collar, and black dress socks. "But you have to get dressed first before I tell you any stories or show any photos!" He then quickly left so we both could get dressed in private. I huffed before putting on my clothes. I came out to see my new father and future husband in similar attire, except his suit was dark brown. He had a photo album under his arm, and motioned for me to come to him. We sat on one of the red velvet couches, and he opened the album on our laps. There were pictures of him within, slightly younger, in many flashy bullfighter outfits. There was even one where he was shirtless, the red cape draped on his shoulders, dripping with sweat from his temples to his abdominals, and his lips parted. His eyes were even more intense in that picture and his cheeks were flushed from the adrenaline. Even though I was little and didn't get sexually stimulated, I still couldn't remove my eyes from that one photo. Of course, my new father took it as something else completely. It seemed to be a habit of his, speaking and assuming before analyzing.

"Yeah, I look awesome in that picture! Aw, I still remember that day. This was a tough bull, he actually killed someone before I went into the ring with him! They said that no one could control that bull and tried to push me away, but I went anyways. He was a great rival, but in the end I was able to ride him and make him a fool. Unfortunately, because he killed someone, he had to be killed and eaten later that day."

"Why was he killed?"

"... It's just a part of Spanish tradition. Once a bull has lost or been beaten in a certain amount of fights he is slaughtered and given to people as food, but that one was killed because he had killed someone."

"Oh... that's so sad, though," I lamented, but the Spanish man only laughed at how sad I sounded. He embraced me, another shock running through my body.

"You are so cute, hijo! To get so sad over an animal... I knew you were the perfect kid!" he gushed, and held me even tighter. I couldn't say anything, I just blushed under his touch. Those same arms that defended him against a bull were hugging me so tenderly. He kept holding me, and finally I wrapped my arms as best as I could around his torso. He smiled against my forehead, kissing me on the top of my head. I flinched. I wasn't yet used to receiving affection from this new man. He saw how stiff I was and he pulled away.

"I'm sorry, hijo, this still is such a shock to you, but I promise you that I am going to love you, and I will never do anything to hurt you."

I smiled at him. Even if he didn't act like the conventional parent, he was still a really nice guy.

"So why aren't you a bullfighter anymore?" I tried to change the subject, not wanting to expose how awkward this situation was.

"Oh, well, I used the money from my fame as a bullfighter to go to college. I went to business school and now I own a music producing business. I'm the one who finds new artists and makes them famous," he said.

"I think being a bullfighter sounds cooler."

"Hahaha, yes, they were fun days, but my family was extremely poor. I wanted our lives to be better, so I got an education in America. Well, you can see the result. Come on, lets go to the Edelsteins' place."

Antonio grabbed my hand, and led me to the Edelsteins' condo. It had the elegance of the lobby downstairs, but the feel of home. Their walls were pure white, with dark blue trim around the windows and borders of the walls. Their paintings were mostly portraits of either Roderich, Elizaveta, or both of them together. The few paintings that weren't of the Edelsteins were landscapes that were unfamiliar to me. They were probably from Roderich's homeland of Austria. The couches were also white, with gold color arms on them. The decorative pillows that were placed on the couch were also gold, while the cushions of the couch were white in contrast. It was so different from the dark colors of Antonio's room. Even the floors were white marble with specks of gold, silver, and black in them. Instead of a television near their gas fireplace, they had a grand piano. It's patent black shine made it stand out in the bright room. There were more light colors to be seen in the kitchen; their custom cabinets (made to make as much storage space as possible) were also white. Even their countertop, which was made of the same material Antonio's was made of, was beige. The only thing that was dark in their kitchen was the floor, which was a dark cherry very similar to Antonio's. The floor of the kitchen looked nice because, like the piano, it stood out from the light colors. Their living room was slightly smaller than Antonio's because they made space for a dining room.

The table was another dark item that stood out of the light colors. It had a bright shine that the piano had, and was enormous at fifteen feet long. The chairs that surrounded the large table had a similar design to the couches in the living room, except the legs of the chair were gold just like the arms. The plates were again white, with blue embroidary along the border. Knifes, forks, and spoons were also laid out; they were, of course, made of actual silver. Roderich sat at the end of the table while Antonio took the chair to the right of Roderich. I sat next to Antonio and tugged softly at the sleeve of his suit jacket.

"What is it, Lovino?"

"Where is Feliciano?" I asked Antonio.

"I'm here, brother!" I felt two small arms wrap around me from behind. I smiled, grabbing his right wrist and kissing his palm. He wore a grey suit, with a dark blue dress shirt underneath. Unlike myself, he didn't button up his suit jacket, but I think he looked better that way. Feli always looked... cute, as Antonio would describe it.

"I can see that now, Feli. How are you?"

"Well, I explored and saw my room. It was awesome, but I still don't know if I'll sleep well without you there."

I turned so that I was facing him and hugged him. "You have to get used to it some day, Feli."

He sighed. He knew I was telling the truth, but he just buried his face into my shoulder.

"Neh," he whined.

The door bell rang and we separated to take our seats. Feli sat in the seat on my right, wiggling his legs to pass the time waiting for food. Elizaveta briskly walked to the entrance of the house to open the door. Two blonde strangers, a man and a woman, walked in. They both had shoulder length hair, but their clothes made their genders obvious.

Vash Zwingli, the man, didn't have a smile. His eyes were green, just like Antonio and Elizaveta's. He didn't dress in a neutral colored suit, but rather a dark green one. The buttoning of his suit jacket was in a double breast design, which didn't allow whatever shirt he had to be visible. If it were any other person, I would make a joke about that, but this is Vash. It was fitting of his personality though, for even though I was young, I could tell he was a quiet and conservative person. Vash wasn't as tall as Antonio or Roderich, but had muscle definition. I never did ask him if he was or used to be a soldier, but I always thought he had. In actuality, he worked most of his life as an owner of a small but successful bank. Lily Zwingli, the woman, was his wife. She was quite young looking, but she seemed like a good match for Vash. Mrs. Zwingli was also conservative, but she expressed her emotions and her thoughts much more openly than her husband, albeit still in an appropriate manner. She wore a blush pink dress, with a peterpan collar. The white lace close to her neck showed off how light and delicate her skin looked. The dress was form fitting in the bodice and the skirt flared out in a bell shape to the knee. It wasn't too sexy because she wasn't as curvy as Elizaveta, but she still looked beautiful. It was hard to believe that she was wearing white stockings, because her skin was just as pale. She had black pumps on her small feet, with one strap that wrapped around her ankle.

The Zwinglis took the seats across from us, saving a seat next to Roderich for Elizaveta. Lily smiled at us. "You must be our new sons."

Feli looked confused. "No, I'm the Edelsteins' new son, and my big brother is Mr. Cerriado's son," he pointed out.

Roderich smiled at his new son. "Not with us, Feliciano. Here, everyone is a parent to you."

"Then I have..." he paused to count all the adults, including the absent Elizaveta. "Five parents! That's cool!"

"Feli, don't be so loud," I chided. Elizaveta came in, balancing two plates in each arm before Roderich immediately got up and took two from her. Mr. Edelstein muttered something about his wife not being careful, but she just laughed at him. Unlike her husband, Mrs. Edelstein didn't worry about hurting herself or straining herself. She believed that was the only way a person improved.

Food was different from what we were used to eating. It was a large turkey stuffed with delicious apple and bread stuffing. My brother and I have never eaten turkey, even on Thanksgiving because it wasn't a part of the Italian cooking our parents knew. There were chopped potatos seasoned with garlic, parsley, and other spices. Even though I am normally not (both then and now) a fan of potatos, the chopped ones Elizaveta made were great. A light salad with lettuce, asparagus, carrots, and other green delights, but the best part was the home made dressing that Elizaveta put a dash of in it. Then for dessert there was blueberry pie of Roderich's creation. It wasn't until I was older that I learned he was a pastry and dessert chef before he became a CEO, though I didn't really care who made what at the time since it all looked delicious.

My brother and I were silent while eating. The adults, however, were chatting; it was probably about business, shopping, and other things. I didn't really care until they talked about Antonio's single status.

"I know you're still young, but... really! Why haven't you gotten married?" Elizaveta asked. She laughed, talking about how she wasn't even the marrying type. It was odd of her to describe herself as such, because her husband was right there.

"Well, you and Roderich were lucky that you found someone you wanted to marry so quickly. I mean, you guys got married as soon as you got out of high school," the Spaniard said, trying to defend himself.

"That may be true, but Lily and I have been married for two years now," Vash replied before taking a bit of blueberry pie.

"Getting married at twenty-three is still young," Lily said, not wanting to join in on attacking Antonio.

"Thank you, Lily," my father blushed, happy that someone of the four was not going to press him on the issue.

"But really, even though you aren't worried now about marraige, you will eventually. Once you hit thirty or forty, it will hit you," Roderich said, finishing his pie.

"Well, I don't think I will be single at forty, but I just haven't found the right person for me!" He then looked at me. "Maybe I'll marry hijo here. He is certainly cute enough!"

I blushed when he hugged me and nuzzled his head against my hair. I squirmed; the electricity was still there, but it was mixed with a well known feeling... embarrassment. Everyone laughed, except for Feli. My brother had started to cry a little, actually. Roderich got up from his seat and picked up Feliciano, asking him what was wrong.

"If big brother is married to Antonio, who do I marry?"

There was a silence before everyone started to laugh at my cute brother.

"You don't get married to someone who is your brother or mother. You have to find someone out of your family to get married to. I could never marry Lovino," Antonio replied when the laughter died down.

Even though I wasn't entirely certain if I loved Antonio then, I felt hurt by that. I hid my disappointment though, and just snorted.

"Oh," Feli said. Dinner continued as normal. It was odd how the transition seemed so smooth, but I won't complain. After all, later on our lives became more complicated...

End

Reviews are definitely welcome! I hoped everyone liked it so far.