Chapter 11

Run

Feliciano didn't like how hovering his guardians had been since they talked about the abuse. He had always liked them because they were like parents who didn't nag him (or beat him), but now they were nearly suffocating. They never worked at the same hours to ensure one was always with him.

He hadn't been able to release any of his stress due to this and it was driving him up the wall. His legs were healing nicely but were leaving pink lines in his pale skin, like fresh scars.

He was so confused all the time now, torn between the constant negativity in his head and the support and love the Edelsteins and Ludwig were showing him. They would hug him and tell him they loved him and all that TV-parent stuff he had seen, but his mind kept telling him it was useless.

His mind wasn't a fun place. It was strong and bitter like a shot of vodka and made him just as sick. He could see how loved he was, but he couldn't feel it. The feeling was numbing and it was scaring him. He couldn't block out the bad thoughts, the ones that chanted at him that he was just a charity case and it was just some ulterior motive to something. He soon forgot that he was being unrealistic and irrational and believed it all.

Feliciano knew he was trapped in his own head and he was too afraid to break out.

His parents beat him, Lovino left him, Nonno only bothered to see him because of the funeral, and Ludwig was surely growing tired of his constant stream of lies.

Feliciano was once again sitting on the edge of the bathtub, surveying the work he had done on his legs before slashing the knife through a few close cuts to make a macabre tally mark across the skin, jagged and red. The pain burned but he ignored it. He didn't know why he kept doing this other than the undeniable urges that crept up on him whenever he felt panic or nervous, most feelings really.

He finished up, cleaning up the area as usual and sneaking the knife back into his room. The risk of getting caught was almost worth the cutting itself. Dinner was soon ready and he joined his guardians with his improving joyous poker face. Nothing really made him laugh anymore but he was good at replicating himself from before the badness set in.

Elizaveta and Roderich couldn't tell he was faking it either, which was the best part. Fake it til you make it—or fake it til everyone else makes it. He made sure to eat all his food, wanting to prove to them that he wasn't some under-eating nuisance. He did admit to them that he wasn't used to eating this much (a normal amount of food) because his parents withheld his food money for beer, and half the time at school he couldn't eat because he lost the money one way or another. They stopped bothering him about his eating habits after that. He genuinely didn't know any better.

When he showed signs of outward improvement the Edelsteins announced they would both be working most days, even giving Feliciano a hand-written schedule. They still didn't want him working, this time because he was a kid and should enjoy his youth. Also because they knew it would be suffocating to be with them all day.

So Feliciano worked out a nice schedule for himself; times when he can cut and cry and have total breakdowns so he would still have enough time to make himself presentable when they got back. And when he felt the urges and bad thoughts creep in when the schedule didn't permit it, he would hold it all in until bedtime where he would come undone and sob as quietly as he could into the pillow.

It was a good system but it was wearing away at him.

He knew it was destroying him and his relaxation methods were absolute bullshit. When he'd tell himself he didn't deserve this and when he would reach for the phone to talk to someone about anything the thoughts would override him.

You deserve this. You killed them. They wouldn't be dead if you weren't so fucking late all the time. They were so ashamed of you they died to get away.

And so he'd grab the knife instead and start over on his legs.

Oh, you're an attention whore now? What are you doing, you're not doing it deep enough! Hit an artery. Go up to your knee and shred it. Bleed out.

Feliciano threw the knife away and placed his head in his folded arms and let his legs bleed for a moment. He was losing himself and he was in a losing battle against the badness. It was so scary and lonely and he didn't know what to do. What do you do when you're worthless and clinging to hope?

What do you do when you want to die but can't go through with it?

He sobbed loudly and wiped his eyes. So it came to this; he actually wanted to die. Not enough to down a bottle of pills or hang himself, no, but he wouldn't be upset if he was hit by a car or if his heart just stopped.

And he sat there, willing his heart to stop. Stupid thing kept beating instead.

He swallowed back a sob and quickly covered his legs with more bandages and disregarded cleaning anything, skin or blade.

A buzzing from the dresser stopped him and he stumble to it, seeing a few texts from various people

Alfred: DUDE FELI! Wats the complement 2 orang?

Matthew: Ignore Al, he's had too much sugar. How are you? :)

Antonio: I need to ask you something important. Don't tell Lovi pls!

Luddy: How are you?

Four texts? That was like a new record for him. He took in a deep breath and sat down on his unmade bed. Another buzzing and a new text came in,

Lovino: what is that jerk bastrd saying? Say the word and ill end him

All these messages meant he was being thought about, didn't it? If people want to talk to him that had to mean he wasn't completely worthless.

But you are.

Feliciano swallowed hard and sent out quick replies before he stared longingly at Ludwig's name. He wanted someone to make it all better like when he was sick and coddled, but he was afraid. Ludwig would reject him and laugh at him just like whenever Gilbert laughed at him, scaring him.

The last shard of hope left in him encouraged him to send the text.

Help me.

You can't be helped you little lost cause.

Please.

He sat there in his anxious state, doing his best to stop himself whenever he realized the nails digging into his skin. He was ready to hyperventilate, only being stopped by the buzzing.

Where are you?

He was so tired and out of it. He barely registered that he had typed a reply or that he got one in return. Fifteen minutes later he was sitting on the floor, curled up with the phone, his lifeline. Ludwig was sporadically texting him and he was soon knocking on the front door. There was no reply so he just went in, heading straight for Feliciano's room.

It broke his heart to see the Italian sobbing on the floor, surrounded by tissues used to wipe the unending tears away. He kicked aside some stray items and sat next to Feliciano, pulling him to his chest and holding him tighter than he ever had. Feliciano folded into him and burrowed his face into the blonde's chest, sobbing harshly and trying not to cry. He didn't want to get his stupid damn tears on his nice shirt.

Unsure of what to do Ludwig started rubbing his back with one hand and petting his hair with the other. He murmured random lines in German, knowing Feliciano wouldn't understand it but knowing he needed to hear something, even if it was confusing.

He didn't talk in English until Feliciano had stopped sobbing and caught his breath. "Feli, Gott, what happened?" He asked in such a calm and worried voice.

"I…" he hiccupped. "I'm lost," he squeaked out. "I don't know what to do or where to go and I'm not me anymore."

"You're not you?"

Feliciano nodded against his chest, purposely avoiding eye-contact. "I haven't been happy in a long time," he whispered. "I'm tired all the time, and I… I'm miserable…"

Ludwig started rubbing his back again, hoping the small sign of affection would somehow help. "You haven't been the same since… you know. Just… why did you wait so long to tell me?"

"Because I can't do it anymore," he mumbled. His voice was losing feeling again and Ludwig wanted the emotional Italian back. "I want to fall asleep and never wake up."

Ludwig pushed back the tears building up. "You're going to be okay, Feli. I'll get you through this."

The smaller teen pulled away slightly and looked away with the guiltiest expression Ludwig had ever seen. "You'll hate me."

"I could never hate you," he assured. "Why would I?"

"Because I fucked up," the haunting, dead voice whispered. "I fucked up." His eyes began to fill again but he remained silent as his slowly rolled up his pant legs, exposing the scarred and healing and bandaged legs. Ludwig gasped and stared at the mess before him.

"Oh, Feli…"

The Italian lightly moved his fingertips over the marks marring his once-perfect legs before he rolled the pants back down to cover it.

"Do Roderich and Eliza know?"

"No."

"Feli, please tell me this… why? Why did you do it?"

A few tears spilled over. "I don't know anymore. It used to help and now I can't stop. I… I started with scratching my arms, and now I… I fucked up," he echoed.

Not knowing what else to do, Ludwig pulled Feliciano into another hug, holding onto him for dear life. A minute passed and Feliciano hugged back, returning to his emotions from the void.

"We're going to be okay," Ludwig muttered into the brunette's hair.

"How do you know?" The emotional teen asked into the blonde hair.

"Because we have to be," Ludwig whispered. "We don't have a choice."

Another bout of crying, this time from both boys, ended with Feliciano agreeing to let Ludwig clean his legs and tentatively remove the knife. Feliciano sat on the edge of the bathtub, wincing as Ludwig took the sticking bandages off and rubbed over the skin with an alcohol-soaked rag. He ended by applying new bandages with some anti-bacterial ointment he found in the back of the medicine cabinet.

Fearing for Feliciano's legs made him carry the brunette back to the room. Feliciano sat on the bed and watched as Ludwig scrubbed the blood-stained carpet until the dark spot was almost gone. He then stood across from Feliciano with a serious look to his eyes.

"Where is it?"

Feliciano frowned and murmured, "I kicked it under the bed."

He bent down and, with the aid of his phone as a flashlight, found the stained knife. Ludwig wanted to vomit at the sight of his best friend's dried blood on the blade. He left the room, cleaned it as best as he could in the kitchen sink, and promptly tossed it in the trash. The idea of anyone using that knife on food made him want to gag. This knife needed to go.

He returned to the room where Feliciano was sitting on the bed and staring at the floor. Ludwig approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Baby steps, Feliciano."

"Baby steps…"

"Promise me you'll stop."

Feliciano turned to him with raised eyebrows. "Stop? What, now?"

"Yes, Feliciano. You can't keep doing this. You said yourself it doesn't help."

This was not turning out anything like he had hoped, though he didn't think it through. He didn't want to be alone and now he was without his knife and covered in properly applied bandages.

Feliciano nodded, not happy with the decision, and leaned back in the bed. Ludwig got in with him and, for Feliciano's sake, cuddled with the depressed teen. It was nice and soothing and Feliciano almost felt loved again.

For the time being, Ludwig didn't say anything further about the situation or Feliciano not telling him sooner. Things went bad a long time ago and he couldn't be too surprised that he tried to hide it. They laid together in silence with the occasional sniffle from the Italian.

"Please don't tell anyone," he whispered into Ludwig's chest. "Please."

Ludwig nuzzled the top of his head. "I won't." Unless it was an emergency, he told himself.

The day drew darker and Elizaveta and Roderich came home. Ludwig snuck out of Feliciano's room to greet them and inform them he would be staying the night again, if that was okay with them (and it was), and they would be in his room studying. They were just happy Feliciano was seeing friends again.

Back in the room they sat together and basked in the presence of one another. Ludwig had taken Feliciano's phone and was programming emergency numbers and services into it. He even found an app for talking anonymously about his problems. He handed the phone back, stating "There are numbers in there, everything is confidential." He paused and said thoughtfully, "I… I programmed the teen suicide hotline as well, just in case… so you have options."

Feliciano nodded and prayed to whatever god there was that Ludwig didn't know he wanted to die despite his earlier sleeping forever comment.

"And, Feliciano," he said. "Again, you can always talk to me. Any time of the day, just talk to me."

"S-si, Luddy."

They spent the last hours of the day in silence again, neither knowing what to say.

A/N: A note to people struggling: it's never too late to ask for help. No one will be mad at you. No one wants you to suffer. It's okay to let someone else shoulder some of the burden.

"Run" by Snow Patrol

To think I might not see those eyes

Makes it so hard not to cry

And as we say our long goodbye

I nearly do