Chapter three! Phew, this one was hard to write but I hope you enjoy nontheless. Mind you that this is unbeta'd so there may be a few mistakes here and there but I am constantly looking over it and changing it whenever I can so please bear with me. Now, I won't distract you with a longer author's note than this so enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Hetalia. This is about the umpteenth time I've said this...

Warnings: Same as last chapter, mainly Lovino's mouth in this one

Chapter Three

Ali Di Carta

"The beauty of the world...has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder."

― Virginia Woolf

Antonio entered his home in the stillness of the night with a heavy heart. He needed the earlier release despite his outlook on life. However, he paused when he caught the glow of a light from the living room. He cautiously made his way towards the room and sighed when he saw Lovino sleeping on the couch.

…he hadn't left after all.

With just a glance on the program on the TV, he turned it off, and grabbed a spare blanket from the closet for the Italian once he noticed Lovino shivering a bit. He covered the man, and in the dim light from the lamp, he felt sensations that had been buried for two years beginning to dig themselves out, announcing their homecoming. And in those feelings, his heart began to break again. He clenched his fists as it overwhelmed him and left the room in haste.

That wasn't his Lovino! That wasn't him! He needed to get that through his head! The sooner it did the better. He wouldn't allow himself to… how much more could he…

He removed his jacket and kicked off his shoes, lying down in the perpetual silence on his bed- their bed. Antonio stared at the space next to him; it was the spot that had been empty and cold for the past two years, displaying its neglect with unforgiving taciturnity.

And it was to remain that way.

The soft chirping of birds agitated Lovino's sleep. He sat up, surprised to find that a blanket had been placed on him during the night, and scanned the room and found that he was still alone. Did Antonio not come back? He threw the blanket off and ventured around the house, noticing the shoes that were caked with mud by the front door.

So he did come back, Lovino thought as his gaze shifted to the stairs, seriously considering if he should go up or not.

"It's obvious he doesn't want to see me," Lovino muttered. "But…"

Sighing with reluctance, the Italian climbed up the stairs, taking each step slowly in case he decided to turn back. Before he knew it, before he had the chance to change his mind or even process his actions, he was standing in front of Antonio's door with his hand on the brass knob with a hesitant expression. He turned it and pushed the door open ever so slightly, catching sight of an empty bed through the crack.

Peeking in, he looked around and saw Antonio staring out his window.

"Is there something you needed?" the Spaniard asked, not turning around.

"No," Lovino returned in a short tone. "Good morning to you, too." And with that, he left.

"Good morning," Antonio muttered.

Suddenly a loud yell resonated throughout the house and the one who had shouted was very clear.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Antonio sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation, and made his way down to find Lovino confronting Francis. Said Frenchman was covering his ears due to the rise in volume of Lovino's voice.

"He hasn't changed. He's just as loud as ever," Francis removed his hands from his head.

Lovino raised an eyebrow, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Haven't I told you to call ahead or at least knock?" Antonio stopped mid-way on the staircase, brushing off Lovino's question.

"It's called the element of surprise," Francis had a small smirk.

"As if I need any more surprises," Antonio replied rather sarcastically.

Catching the clueless look from Lovino, Francis asked, "I suppose you haven't told him?"

"No. I haven't," Antonio replied curtly, not wanting to speak of this at the moment or appreciating that Francis had mentioned it aloud and in Lovino's presence.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Lovino demanded, hating the fact that he was being kept in the dark.

"And he still has quite the mouth on him," Francis hummed in amusement and tried to rebound from his earlier mishap by changing the subject. He placed his hand on Lovino's head and mussed his hair, laughing a little.

"Fuck you," Lovino spat and swatted the Frenchman's hand away.

"Lovino," Antonio said firmly.

"What?" Lovino glared at the other man in the room.

"Francis and I need to talk in private," he began. "Leave."

"Do I look like a kid to you? I'm a grown man. And another thing, who the hell died and gave you permission to order me around? I can stay if I want," Lovino crossed his arms in defiance.

Antonio threw an indignant stare at the Italian and Lovino made eye contact for a feeble second then glanced at Francis who had an insistent look upon his face, silently telling the Italian to simply do as he was told. Lovino's arms faltered from their position.

"Fine, fine," Lovino said in defeat, "I'm going."

He quickly went up the stairs, exaggerating his steps a bit and then opened and closed a door to give off the impression he went inside a room. He waited and only when he heard the duo starting to speak to one another did he make his way silently back down. Lovino paused and listened intently.

"…it was a simple slip of the tongue, mon ami."

"Yeah but he'll be asking questions and those should not be answered," Antonio replied. "However, to answer yours, no I haven't told him. I didn't find it necessary."

"He will find out. And he won't be happy. I suggest you tell him," Francis sighed.

"I don't owe him any explanations," Antonio spoke curtly.

"But he is your lover."

"No!" Antonio retorted, causing Lovino to jump a little. "He's not. He's dead. I've finally accepted that."

"Then who is the man upstairs?" Francis raised an eyebrow calmly.

"It can't be him. I've finally accepted he's gone- I've finally reached closure and the last thing I need is someone coming back into my life knowing that they're going to leave again," Antonio's voice wavered.

There was a loud ringing in Lovino's ears as soon as he registered those words. He was… dead? There was just no way! He was right here- living and breathing, no less! His head began to ache and his heart pounded lividly, sending pulses of pain throughout his chest. Thinking twice about it, Lovino remained at the staircase, still listening.

After a moment of silence, Antonio spoke again, "Any news on Feliciano?"

This had Lovino's undivided attention.

"No," Francis answered. "We haven't found anything."

Antonio closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"It's been two years- everyone excluding you, Ludwig, and me has given up. You must remember that he did this on his own," Francis continued.

"How can you be so sure…?" Antonio asked.

"It was inevitable; you remember what a mess he was, right? He wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep and would not socialize… remember the suicide attempts? How could you forget? He isolated himself," Francis explained, evoking past memories. "And then he just disappears without a trace except for that one note he left behind and even that was no help in us finding him."

Antonio merely nodded.

"Antonio, if I may ask, I understand Ludwig's reason to keep searching… but why you?"

"Feliciano is like a younger brother to me and he is Lovino's biological one. Finding him is the least I can do. Lovi's sacrifice will be in vain if I don't know his own brother is alive or not," Antonio answered sadly. "He, like Lovino, is very important."

Lovino was sitting on the steps by this point with his hands buried in his hair and his elbows resting on his knees. This was too much… his little brother was somewhere out there in the streets, running away as a result of his death which was a death Lovino couldn't seem to remember.

Everything he did seemed to be taking a turn for the worst.

On shaky legs, he stood and trudged towards the room he was supposed to be in from the start. He would question Antonio about this conversation when the time was right.

Antonio went down the hall to retrieve the plate of food resting outside the bedroom door since Lovino refused to come downstairs. Francis had long since left and now the duo remained in the tense atmosphere of denial and lack of trust. The Spaniard returned to the kitchen, plate in hand, and placed it in the sink. After doing so, he wearily entered his room, halting in the doorway when he saw Lovino curled in the bed and sleeping peacefully.

The man stared at who he considered his former lover. He had half a mind to take Lovino and tell him to leave.

However…

"If you only knew…" Antonio muttered.

He was about to leave, but spared a single glance at the Italian and he felt his world shift once more as the moonlight cascaded along Lovino's face, making the fallen angel even more of an outcast to this world. Antonio immediately left the room after that when the old sensations started to bubble up again. He hurried to the room Lovino was supposed to be sleeping and shut the door, leaning against it. His knees buckled and he slumped to the floor.

He didn't know how much longer he could deal with this…

Ludwig sighed in the darkness- sleep was unfortunately denying his welcome. He sat up, gazing into the shadows cast by the moon… alone.

He was… alone.

He had been for the last two years.

When Lovino passed, everything had gone downhill and it was continuing to plummet. He hated this- he hated being alone despite his usually tough personality.

He was human, after all. He could only handle so much.

…solitude.

…Feliciano.

How he missed the Italian- his smiles, his laughter… he missed it all. His lover had plunged into everlasting sorrow, drowning in it, without having any hope or even the desire to resurface. But Ludwig never lost faith in the man and neither did the others…

They always had positive thoughts, never even glancing at what eventually became the inevitable. But holding onto that small glimmer of hope never hurt anyone.

…right?

Ludwig knocked on the door to the room Feliciano hadn't come out of in almost an entire week.

"Feliciano," the German knocked on the door once more and sounds of movement were his only response. "What in the world are you doing in there?"

"I-I'm fine," was the reply in a shaky tone.

"Feliciano, what are you doing?" Ludwig placed his hand on the doorknob.

"No, I'm fine!" Feliciano answered frantically.

Ludwig opened the door, surprised to find it unlocked, and entered the room, his face transfixed with horror. Feliciano was desperately scrubbing the floor with carpet cleanser, diligently working to remove the large red stain in the middle of the room. But the stain kept returning, its source remaining fresh.

Blood dripped down Feliciano's wrists, mixing with the carpet cleanser. However, Feliciano resumed cleaning as if he didn't notice the crimson trails running along his hands. Ludwig ran to his lover's aid, grabbing the Italian's hands to stop the persistent burnishing.

Feliciano hissed in pain as he tried to release his wrists from Ludwig's grip but the German held on, staring at the nauseating slashes across his lover's wrists. Ludwig worked swiftly and silently, ordering the seemingly distraught Italian to remain where he was while he fetched the first-aid kit. Bandaging his lover's wounds, Ludwig took note of the stoic expression upon Feliciano's face- a look that did not suit the man in the slightest.

"What did you think you were doing?" Ludwig questioned in angry confusion. "You've could've died!"

"What does it matter? I have nothing else going for me," Feliciano replied in an almost nonchalant tone.

"Quit talking like that," Ludwig chastised. "It's unusual."

Feliciano didn't answer that time. Instead, he stared at the bandages wrapping around his still bleeding wrists. Ludwig then lifted the Italian's downcast gaze with a gentle hand.

"I know you miss your brother but… by doing this, you're only hurting yourself. This is not the answer."

Without his notice, tears streamed down Feliciano's face, "Then tell me, what is the answer? Tell me how to get my brother back…! Tell me how to make things right again!"

The Italian's body convulsed with sobs as his broken cries being the only sounds in the room. And all Ludwig could do was bring the man into a hug and try to soothe his lover.

What more could he do?

Why answer a question that has no answer?

Why break a heart that is already broken?

Ludwig stared at the wrinkled piece of paper in his hand, reading the four simple words that was a final farewell to all of them:

This is the answer.

Ludwig crumpled it up again, only to carefully reopen it and study his lover's last words that were neatly written on the paper as if he was reading it for the first time. And each time had the same effect to his crumpled, mutilated heart.

Feliciano…

Whatever that answer may be…

I hope you're happy with it…

Because I'm not.

Ali Di Carta- Paper Wings

So we have some light shed on Ludwig's part of the story, and Lovino has discovered he is dead and that Feliciano is or has been missing ever since he died. And there is still more to come.

Much more :)

Please review and give me your thoughts!

Arigatou!

This is Crimson signing out!