Antonio whistled as he chased various paella ingredients around a pan. Tonight he was going to try an experiment – to see if he could get things from his world to Lovino's and back. He was pretty sure that he could; the carnation that Lovino had given him had survived the return journey at the very least, and he could remember having his phone with him on the very first try, but he was certain there were going to be limitations somewhere. It'd be useful to find out. Maybe he could even ferry messages between the two brothers; he knew they missed each other deeply. It'd be great to cheer them both up by re-establishing contact. Plus, if he could take things, he could buy Lovino gifts! Lovino had already shared so much with him, it was about time he gave something in return. Not to mention that the Italian's blushing embarrassed face was pretty much the most adorable thing in existence.

The abrupt chime of the doorbell pulled him out of his thoughts and he turned down the heat on the pan to go answer it. Who's that going to be? I'm not expecting visitors tonight.

"INTERVENTION!" came a loud chorus as soon as Antonio pulled the door back. Standing on the doorstep were Gilbert, Francis and Feliciano, all with identically serious expressions.

"What?" exclaimed Antonio, completely mystified. Why did he need to take part in an intervention? He wasn't addicted to drugs or alcohol, or have any behaviour problems. Or any problems at all, in fact. Life was pretty great.

Francis took his arm and, without prompting, led him into his own living room. "Mon cher, it has come to our attention that you have been...acting rather strangely lately. You're always distracted, mind a-wander, in a world of your own."

"Yeah, and you never want to hang out with us outside of school anymore," Gilbert interjected, jumping onto an armchair.

Feliciano nodded. "Ve~. We're your friends, Toni. If there's something wrong, we want to help you. Whatever it is, you can tell us."

Antonio sat down and faced the other three. "There's nothing wrong, you guys. I appreciate the concern, but I'm completely fine. I couldn't be happier, in fact." He was torn between annoyance at the delay, and fear at his friends finding out. It was unlikely they'd believe him if he didn't explain properly, let alone understand. They'd think he'd gone mad.

"No, man," Gilbert countered. "You spend all your time asleep, of all things. I wandered into your house last week, 'cos I rang on the door but you didn't answer and I needed to borrow your maths homework, and when I went in you were passed out in bed. You didn't wake up even when I shouted at you. There were a buncha sleeping pills on your bedside cabinet too. That's not healthy, Tonio. People don't need ta sleep that much. It was seven in the evening."

"You've lost all interest in school, too," Francis continued. "I've seen a couple of your tests recently, and your grades have dropped enormously. And you had dreams; leaving school with top grades and going to university. So many plans, so much effort, and now you've inexplicably forgotten it all. What has brought you to such a conclusion?"

"Guys, guys, I'm fine, honestly," Antonio said hurriedly, raising his hands in defense. "I just decided not to worry about things and just let life take its course for the moment. It's a relaxation thing; just chill for a bit and take the stress off."

"Kühscheiße," Gilbert said definitely. "C'mon. We know you better than that. There's something up, something that makes you just want to sleep and nothing else. What's up?"

"Ve~. Please, Antonio, tell us. We've been really worried about you, and we just want to help. Please?" Oh dear. Feliciano was giving him the heart-wrenching pleading eyes, and there wasn't a granite-hearted soul in the world that could resist those. If you did, you would just end up hating yourself, feeling soulless and evil as the younger Italian burst into pitiful tears. Antonio could feel his resolve fading just looking at that face.

He sighed. "Ok. But it's not going to be easy for you guys to hear. You probably won't believe me, but please listen."

"That's what we're here for, man," Gilbert grinned supportively. "Go on."

Antonio took a deep breath, unsure of whether this was the right place to begin. "Do you guys believe in heaven?"

"Yes!" Feliciano smiled instantly. "It's a great place that you go to after you die if you've been good! But what's this got to do with you being asleep all the time?"

"Everything," Antonio continued. "Because, in my dreams...that's where I go. I've been waking up there every time I go to sleep. It's been happening for about a month or so now, every single night."

Francis, Feliciano and Gilbert stared at him, mouths agape. It was obvious that they didn't believe him – he was fast running out of time before they declared him mad.

"It's true, please believe me. I know it's real, I have proof, and I know it's heaven because, Feli...I met your brother there."

Feliciano looked like someone had just shattered his heart, his breathing fast and shallow. "Fratello..." he whispered, tears welling in his wide golden eyes.

"Antonio," Francis began severely.

"Wait, please!" Antonio interrupted him. "I'm not lying, I swear. I've really met him. Every night, in fact. We've become really close. He really likes tomatoes, and he kinda swears a lot, but he's really sweet inside. I've spent so much time with him recently. He showed me around the house where you guys lived as kids, Feli. He really misses you, too, and-"

A loud sob punctuated his sentence, as Feliciano burst into tears, curling up in a ball on the sofa and burying his distraught face in a cushion. Francis shot Antonio a dark look and scooted up the cushions, wrapping his arms around the younger boy. "Don't you dare bring his brother into this, Antonio. Poor Feli's having trouble enough dealing with this without you making things worse."

"But it's true, Francis!" Antonio protested.

"Stop it!" Gilbert shouted. "Antonio, you delusional bastard, either tell the fucking truth or we're gonna have to get serious. Feli's suffered enough without you bringing his brother in as a sympathy vote for your fantasies." His German accent thickened as his voice rose in volume, and with his red eyes flaring, it was rather intimidating.

But Antonio wouldn't, couldn't, be deterred. "It's not fantasy, Gilbert, it's all true. I've really met Lovi, and spoken to him. I wouldn't play with Feli like that, I swear. But it's ok, because Feli doesn't need to be sad anymore. Since I can talk to Lovi, I might be able to take messages between the two, so they can still-" Gilbert's hand clapped firmly down on his mouth and pinned him against the wall, the Prussian's spare hand grabbing both of Antonio's slim wrists and wrenching them into a lock.

The silver-haired teenager's voice was deadly calm and serious, taut as stretched elastic. "Franny, get Feli's mobile and call West up, tell him to come here immediately. He's the only one who can calm Feli down in this sorta state; I've seen it a couple times." He shot Antonio a dirty look, then directed his attention back to the sobbing Feliciano, who was deaf to the world and trembling violently in Francis' arms as the older boy fiddled with his phone.

Antonio was desperately trying to keep calm; only the fact that Gilbert was his friend kept Antonio from flattening him. That and, if he turned violent, no one would listen to what he had to say and he needed them to believe him. They'd think he was mad otherwise, and would force him into therapy. No, they wouldn't do that, would they? They were friends, right? Then again, friends didn't pin friends to the wall and yell at them instead of listening to them in a rational manner.

The doorbell's inappropriately bright sound cut through his thoughts like a dagger and Antonio refocused on the world as Ludwig walked into the room, his face pale and hair unkempt, like he'd got here in a rush.

"Feliciano..." he breathed, crouching next to the younger Italian and laying a hand gently on his face. "Gott...I've never seen him this bad. Feliciano, can you hear me? It's me, it's Ludwig. Come on, come back to us. Listen to me. You're alright, Feliciano."

A couple of minutes of comforting murmurs later, Feliciano slowly opened his watery eyes and blinked uncertainly. "Ludi..?"

Ludwig sighed in relief. "Danke Gott." Whatever he was about to say next, however, was cut off by Feliciano diving off the sofa at him and burying his face in his chest. Ludwig carefully picked him up and sat down on back on the sofa, Feliciano now curled in his lap. He kept one hand protectively around his boyfriend's head and after a moment indicated with the other for Gilbert to let Antonio go.

"You three. Explain. Now." His voice was like a knife edge and Antonio could swear that the shadows of the room got darker.

But now he needed to concentrate. Every word would count as, with Ludwig, Antonio would only get one chance at explaining. It would be a fair chance, but a solo chance nonetheless.

He took a deep breath. "Every night, when I go to sleep, I wake up in another world. I don't know why. It's a bit like a gateway. And, that world, it's heaven. The Heaven, the one where you go after you die. And I met Lovino there, it's where he is now." Antonio saw Ludwig's facial muscles taut, and his voice faltered slightly, but he couldn't stop now. "Every night I wake up there and he's waiting for me. We've become really close friends, well, more than friends actually, but he is the reason I spend so much time asleep, because I can see him there. But they're not just dreams, it's completely real. It's fully focused, in full colour and all five senses and real time and everything. And it's a beautiful place, like the most brilliant place you've ever been to, and it's all Lovi's heaven and I've been there." He stopped before he began repeating himself and faced Ludwig, holding his breath for a decision.

Ludwig was silent for a moment, processing Antonio's words. After a moment, he re-opened his sky-blue eyes and faced the other three. "Antonio, I believe what you are experiencing is a phenomenon known as lucid dreaming. It is where the dreamer is aware of their unconscious state and can hence control the situation they are in. You are dreaming this way as a result of the guilt you have been experiencing because of Lovino saving your life and losing his own by doing so, so you have created a perfect world where the two of you are happy. Unfortunately it is not real; it merely seems real because of the vivid detail of the dreams. You must realise that everything you have experienced in this 'heaven' is all a product of your own imagination and is not another world. There are no such things as other world. You have no contact with Lovino – he is dead and there is sadly nothing that we can do about that."

Antonio shook his head. "Nonono. Lovi is real – I've spoken to him."

"Your description is indeed accurate, I'll give you that," Ludwig replied. "But you did know Lovino in real life, and any perception of him that you have in your dreams is merely a residue of your memories."

"No, it's not! I can prove it, I'll show you!" Without waiting for a reply, Antonio spun around and tore up the stairs. He could sense the panic rising in his veins and practically feel the straitjacket they would force on him. Time was running out, and quickly.

The carnation, where was it? He raced across the room and scrutinized the desk, watching among the dullness of papers, pens and clutter for a flash of brilliant red.

Nothing. The place where it had stood just that morning was empty, with no evidence that it had even been there. Antonio bit his lip. Fuck! This wasn't happening! It must have fallen on the floor. He dropped to his knees, hands scouring the surface. He'd tear up the carpet if he had to.

"Antonio?" Francis' voice called uncertainly up the stairs.

"I'm looking! It was here a minute ago, I swear!" Antonio yelled back, panic more than evident in his voice.

Ok, it wasn't here. That was...that was fine. There were the clothes, they'd come back too. And his shirt with the ripped sleeve. And a shiny rock he'd found at the lake. Plenty of evidence. They would be convinced, they had to be.

A minute later, he raced back downstairs with the two shirts – he couldn't find the rock, it was probably in the kitchen – and skidded to a halt in the front room, panting hard.

"Shirts?" Gilbert said in disbelief. "Your proof is shirts?"

Antonio brandished them. "Not just shirts, Gil. Look, this one's got a rip in the sleeve. I fell asleep in it, and woke up in Lovino's world for the first time, and my shirt got ripped on a plant there, and when I woke up it was ripped in real life. And, and this other shirt, Lovino gave me that in his world. I got changed there and when I woke up for real I was wearing it here too. It had come back with me because I was...wearing...it..." His voice petered out at the blatant looks of disbelief he was receiving. "You guys don't believe me...do you?" He didn't blame them. He could hear himself – he sounded like a madman.

Francis gave him a sympathetic look and reached out a hand. "Mon cher-"

"No!" Antonio slapped the hand away and glared fiercely, his eyes stinging in readiness for rebellious tears. "Don't give me that, Francis! You guys aren't giving me a chance. You came here convinced I was mad and nothing I am saying is making you think otherwise because you're too set in your opinions! This is real! I know it seems like dreams, and I thought it was at first, but it's not, it's really not! I've met Lovino and I love him! And if you're not going to believe me, you may as well get out of my house, because I'm not going to stand here and let you force me into therapy I don't need! Get out! Now!" The tears rushed to bursting point and spilled over, streaking down his face as he pushed his friends, no former friends, towards the door.

"The fuck-" Gilbert started, his hands curling into fists, but Ludwig placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a sharp look. The elder brother growled, but relented and let himself be prodded out of the house. Just as well, really. Antonio was pretty much ready to throttle someone at this point.

"Please, Antonio," Feliciano pleaded, trying to reach back into the house. "We just-" But his words were cut off by the door slamming heavily shut, a cloud of dust released from the ceiling by the sheer force.

Antonio quickly locked the door and collapsed against it, utterly drained. They were his friends. He'd truly thought they'd believe him; didn't they trust him? It was betrayal, nothing less than that, and he felt sick to his stomach by it. It stabbed hard, right in his chest, and left a bitter taste in his mouth. It was awful.

Having lost all appetite, he went back into the kitchen and turned off the stove – the paella was burned beyond recognition anyway and he had no desire for anything that resembled Arthur's cooking.

But Ludwig's words were branded into his mind. Could it have just been his imagination after all? The carnation was still missing and – though it pained him to think it – his shirt could have gotten ripped somewhere else. Was he really deluded? For the first time in a month, he was truly scared that he wouldn't wake up in Lovino's world once he fell asleep.

OOOoooOOO

Yet the bright light of the sun caressed his eyelids as usual and he opened them to the familiar sight of the hill where he always woke up.

But he felt no happiness upon realisation, only deeper panic.

"You're late, bastard," came Lovino's voice from nearby. He was sat a few feet away, chewing on one of his tomatoes with a pissed-off expression.

Antonio brushed the slur aside and scrambled across to the other, clutching at his shirt as if it was about to fade away. "Lovi, tell me, please. Is this real?"

Lovino looked confused. "Real? I should fucking well hope so. What are you deluding yourself about this time? Thought you'd have been convinced by now." His slim fingers detached Antonio's from his now creased shirt, but didn't let go entirely. It was clear he could read Antonio's feelings and wanted to convey some form of comfort.

"Everyone thinks that I'm imagining this!" Antonio blurted, staring desperately at Lovino.

Lovino's jaw dropped. "The hell? You told them?"

Antonio nodded uneasily. "I had to. They think I'm sleeping too much and acting weird, so they staged an intervention to try help me."

Lovino growled low in his throat. "Bastards. So they know now? How much did you tell them?"

"Everything, more or less," Antonio admitted. "I had to."

"Hmm." Lovino was silent for a moment, his cheeks tinged with red. "What did they say?"

"Well, Francis flat out didn't believe me, Gilbert got mad and pinned me to the wall, and Feliciano got really upset."

"He would, if you'd mentioned me," Lovino muttered. "He's what you'd call the sensitive type. He cries if I come home ten minutes late, so I highly doubt he's taken my death well."

"Not really..." Antonio sighed. "Then Francis called Ludwig over, so I had to explain again, and he says I'm lucid dreaming, and this is all a guilt-induced fantasy."

Lovino spat vehemently. "He's a potato bastard, you aren't supposed to listen to what he says. Every word he says is a load of shite, and he'd disown anything to do with me, so no wonder that he's telling you you're imagining things."

"But the carnation, the one you gave me a while back, it was gone! I couldn't find it at all! And perhaps I was imagining one of my shirts being the one you gave me here. It could be all a dream! I don't want it to be a dream!" His voice cracked mid-sentence and he winced inwardly at the weakness.

"It's not, idiot!" Lovino growled. "Don't listen to the stupid potato bastard, damn it!"

"But it makes sense, what he's saying, scientifically that is. And he's right about a lot of stuff. What about this too?"

Lovino was clearly insulted. "You're believing the potato sucker over me? The fuck? Seriously, d'you think you could imagine this place? The monuments you've never seen? My history? My personality? He's talking bullshit." He took Antonio by the shoulders, surprising the older boy slightly at the voluntary contact and the pure emotion in his voice. "Listen. This. Is. Real. And don't doubt it, or I'll get really pissed off."

Antonio tried to force a smile, pulling Lovino close into a hug. "I know. I'm sorry, Lovi. It's just hard to believe things when all your closest friends, including your boyfriend's brother, don't believe you." He closed his eyes and leant his head on Lovino's shoulder, trying to fight the fear.

Lovino hummed thoughtfully. "Feliciano..." He snapped his fingers and pulled out of Antonio's grip. "You leave Feliciano to me." Waving a hand in the air, he produced a piece of paper and a pencil and began to jot something down.

"What's that?" Antonio asked, trying to peer around at it, but Lovino swatted him away and kept writing. A minute or so of silence and pencil-biting later, he folded the paper in two and handed it to Antonio.

"Give this to Feli, tell him it's from me. Don't read it. He'll know what it means." His face was impassive, but Antonio could instantly tell what it meant. The letter contained a secret message that Feliciano would know was from Lovino and Lovino alone, something no one else could have come up with.

He sprung at the Italian in a hug and a wave of gratitude. "Thank you, Lovi!"

Lovino merely grunted in response. "Don't get your hopes up too much. Feli's gullible, so Potato Jerk won't take his acceptance as law instantly. You've still got a bit of explaining to do."

Antonio smiled and snuggled closer to him. "I know, I know. But if I've got Feli on my side, I'll be alright. Your note will see to that. Gracias, querido."

Unless it's all still a dream and the note won't be there when you wake up, his doubtful side remarked, but Antonio pushed those thoughts aside desperately. Thinking like that would just make everything worse.

Not much to say on this chapter. Not sure why. I'm probably just tired. Damn you, exams. I hate you so much.
Is it real? Or is it all actually a figment of Antonio's active imagination? Dun dun duuuuun! Have to wait and see.

I seem to be doing a lot of writing lately...it's like every evening. Not that that's a bad thing; I just have half a dozen random unpublished ideas hanging around on my hard drive. Dunno if I'll ever do anything with them tbh. Probably will eventually, if only to give me the motivation to continue them. Oy vey... *headdesk*