Okay, so inspiration for this story is a little low. I'm on spring break and I thought I would be able to update faster than this but I suppose not. Sorry for the wait. I was having some... familial issues and also some friend issues. It's just been hectic. So instead of a full chapter that would've been absolute crap, I am simply updating with a side story. I hope you all don't mind and enjoy anyway.

Warnings: language

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Side Story:

Reveries?

It was dark.

Dark and… lonely.

So lonely…

…and cold.

"Papa?" Antonio called out into the endless abyss. "Papa, where are you? I'm scared!"

The boy fell to his knees and wept loud enough for whoever was out there listening to hear. He just wanted someone to take him home—to take him out of this hellhole. Suddenly, he felt the coolness of the evening breeze sweep over him and the black mass around him began to take shape and form into the neighborhood he lived in.

Looking around, he noticed that he was directly in front of his house inside a car and the moon gave off a comforting, aloof glow. The stars twinkled dully in the velvet sky, watching him closely. Delighted to be in familiar surroundings, he tried to unbuckle himself and remove himself from the vehicle but stopped when he heard a voice he knew all too well.

The voice of his father.

"Then maybe you should just leave!"

Antonio's heart skipped a few beats when he heard the command loud and clear. He wasn't talking to him, was he? Antonio didn't hear any response from the other side of the door so he could only assume…

No!

His dad would never say something like that!

But the pain in his heart indicated that this was so.

He desperately tried to unbuckle himself but the seat belt was stuck. Trying to wriggle out of it, he found that he was planted firmly in the seat.

"Papa! Help me!"

Maybe if he yelled loud enough, his father would come and help him get out of this fix. But his father did not come. Instead, a young man stormed out the front door of his house and climbed inside the car. At first, Antonio figured this man to be Marcello but he was wrong.

This stranger greatly resembled him.

The car hummed to life and they were out of the driveway and speeding down the street. Antonio caught sight of his father running out the door and calling his name.

His father was worried for him!

This man was taking him to some strange place!

"Take me home right now! I wanna go home!" Antonio beat his tiny fists against this stranger's shoulder but the brunette did not seem to notice.

"I want my daddy! Take me home now!"

But the man ignored him.

Settled on crying, Antonio hid his face in his knees and wept until his eyes were dry of tears.

"Why won't you take me home…?" Antonio questioned. "I wanna go home…"

It was then that he heard the man beside him sniffle and wipe away obvious tears. Why was he crying? Did he feel bad for taking Antonio away from his dad? Or was he upset because his dad was yelling?

"Mister? Are you okay?" Antonio asked with genuine concern.

He was met with silence.

It was as if the man didn't even know he was there!

Sighing, Antonio looked out the windshield and along the empty road. There wasn't much else to look at since it was so dark.

Abruptly, lights filled his vision and a blaring horn blasted in his ears. The sounds of metal screeching against the asphalt and shattering glass made him scream silently for his father. And then there was a horrible pain that spread throughout his entire body like blazing fire.

His head, his neck, his arms and legs…

It hurt everywhere!

Lying on the side of the freezing road, Antonio found himself falling further and further into the darkness he feared with no one to catch him.

"No! No! Papa! Papa, help me!"

He then felt the secure arms of his parent wrapping around him protectively, whispering comforting words in his ear.

"Antonio, non piangere. Io sono qui. Io vi protegga," Lovino rubbed small circles on the child's back in hopes of soothing the boy.

"It hurts, Papa… it hurts so much…" Antonio sobbed, clinging tightly onto the Italian.

"What hurts?"

"E-Everything…" Antonio trembled. "It was so loud and bright! I couldn't find you and I was hurting and I wanted you to make it all better! But you told me you wanted me to leave…"

Lovino froze.

"You said to leave and I thought you were talking to me. But some man came out of our house and got in the car with me. We left and everything got so loud and bright. I was hurting everywhere… do you still want me to leave, Papa?"

"No, never!" Lovino protested and brought the child close to reassure him. "I would never tell you to leave. You're my son."

Lovino couldn't lose Antonio again. These 'dreams' were something to watch out for.

"That's some dream," Feliciano commented over the phone after Lovino explained last night's events. "But it sounds far too similar to what happened to Antonio."

"That's the thing, Feli. I don't think it was a dream at all," Lovino sighed as he put away the washed dishes after he and Antonio finished lunch.

"What do you think it is, then?"

"As crazy as it sounds, I think it's a memory from Antonio's past life."

"What makes you think that?" Feliciano sounded genuinely confused.

"He described the night he died exactly as it happened. I don't think that's there's any other way to explain it," Lovino ran a hand through his hair when he sat down at the kitchen table.

"That's crazy," Feliciano remarked. "How is he doing?"

"He was shaken up by it of course since he didn't understand. He's scared; I can hardly leave his side for more than ten minutes," Lovino replied.

"Poor boy. What is he doing now?"

"He's taking a nap. He didn't sleep well for the rest of the night," Lovino poked his around the corner to check on his son who was sleeping on the couch.

"I would keep an eye on him more than anything. It could be past memories," Feliciano mused. "I honestly wouldn't be surprised if they were."

Lovino nodded, "Oh and tell me you're alone and the potato-bastard is not around while we're talking about this."

"Of course I am, fratello!" he could hear Feliciano grin.

"Good."

"Papa… Papa…" Antonio's whimpers were quiet and fretful, as if he had trouble finding his voice..

"Hey, Feli, I've got to call you back," Lovino then hung up and hurried to tend to his son.

Antonio clung onto the Italian as soon as his father approached, crying softly, "Don't leave me, Papa. Please don't leave me."

"I won't leave you. I was just in the kitchen," Lovino said.

"I don't like the dark, Papa. Make it go away," Antonio pled.

The darkness?

Death. Is that what Antonio experienced when he had passed on? He was all alone in that abyss and it had been Lovino's fault for causing such an experience. The Italian wouldn't abandon the brunette a second time.

No, not again.

The duo was quiet for a moment before Antonio spoke again, "I had a different dream this time, though."

"What was it about?" Lovino's hand rested itself on the child's head.

"I was out in the tomato garden and it was really bright outside. I was putting tomatoes in a big basket. And you were in it, too, Papa. But I was taller than you this time."

Dreams?

Lovino thought not.

The shrill ringtone of Lovino's phone shattered their conversation and Lovino sighed upon looking at the caller I.D.

Marcello.

What did he want?

"Ciao," Lovino simply said in monotone.

"Bello ciao~! How are you doing today?" Marcello's voice was overly cheerful and even sounded forced.

"I was good until you called."

"Ouch, Lovino. That one hurt," Marcello now sounded like a put out flame.

"Good," Lovino retorted.

"Aw, Lovino, don't be like that. And to think I was going to invite you to lunch," Marcello pouted on the other end of the line.

"Antonio and I have already had lunch," Lovino replied.

"Oh okay. So is it all right if I come over?"

"Well-"

"Awesome! I'll see you in about an hour! Bye~!" Marcello hung up.

Lovino wanted to crush the phone in his hand.

So much for a day that would be just him and Antonio.

But why did Marcello sound so… off?

"Mister Marcello is coming over?" Antonio asked.

"Sadly yes," Lovino sighed.

He had no time to think about how Marcello sounded. The Italian-American would be showing up soon and he had to think of a way to try and not kill the man while he was here.