Chapter - 10 - Lives Changing

Arthur was sitting on the counter in his kitchen with his head tilted back. Alfred was in front of him, whispering. "It's alright, Artie. I almost got it all."

"Hurry up." Arthur winced as Alfred touched the sensitive part. "That hurt, you git!" his hands were shaking hard against Alfred's shoulders, the smell that was between them coming up to meet his nose. Arthur's eyes watered as he swallowed a scream and the urge to pull away from Alfred.

"I'm sorry! I just need to get the last bit and I'll move it, okay?"

"Okay." Arthur dug his fingers into Alfred's jacket. It didn't really hurt, more like a stinging and stretching feel, since his head was tilted back.

"All done!" Alfred smiled and wrapped the bandage around Arthur's neck. The wound wasn't deep, but it was still bleeding and if it got infected, that could be bad.

Arthur sighed and brought his head up right. "Finally." he smiled softly and rubbed his arms. The sun had gone down and it was chilly in the empty house. "The smell was making me sick."

The American looked confused for a moment, but instead of asking why blood made him sick, he asked, "What did you want to show me, Artie?" Alfred leaned on the counter beside Arthur's knees.

"You can't laugh or make fun." Arthur shifted his weight and continued to unbutton his shirt. Alfred had taken off his sweater vest. No blood had gotten on the rare green garment, but Arthur's dress shirt was ruined. Arthur breathed through his mouth at the sight of his blood on his shirt. It was so disgusting.

"If I wanted to do that I would have already." Alfred reached his hand out and Arthur allowed him to stroke his cheek.

Arthur shivered and let his shirt fall down to his wrists, he closed his eyes and looked away from Alfred, knowing what he would see. He would watch as Alfred took in the scars along his chest and stomach, his face turning from caring and worried to bored and over Arthur. It always happened when he told his mother or siblings. There were burn marks and cuts so deep that the scar tissue over it was puckered and pink, there were so many, it created a maze over his skin.

"Oh, Arthur." Alfred traced around a cluster of burns on Arthur's left side. "What are these?"

"I have known I was gay since I was little. I hadn't realized that it wasn't normal and openly talked about it. Some of the older kids found out and always picked on me. One time, I told my best friend that I thought one of the boys were cute. His friend heard us talking and told all of his other friends. They chased me around the school. I'm pretty sure I was crying, I knew I was calling for help because I remember all of their dads looking at me like I was getting what I deserved. The boys managed to get me to the ground and held me still. One of them had a pack of matches. He lit one after another and pressed them into my side. He counted how long I screamed before the match went out. I was fighting the best I could, but even then I was tiny and never played football or any other games with everyone else. I was struggling like a fish on land. It was useless. The burns on my stomach and sides are from that day." Arthur stole a glance at Alfred, who hadn't changed his concerned expression.

"I'm so sorry, Artie. I was picked on too, but never like this." Alfred cupped Arthur's trembling jaw.

"It is not your fault, dear brute." Arthur leaned into Alfred's hand, and enjoyed Alfred's rough fingers going into his hair. "I would tell my family, but they wouldn't care, so after a while, I took care of my own injuries. Though none of them approved of my choice of love, the didn't hate me. Sure they thought that the torture I was receiving was deserved, but my younger twin siblings always wanted me to draw them something. My older brother asked me about schooling as I got older and the kids at school pretended that I didn't exist. Mother let me hold the baby, not afraid that I would give him anything. It was Father who I never told. He was sure to take his belt and hit me, no matter what age I was. If I told him today, he would beat me. If I told him on his death bed, he would hit me. But I never got the chance." Arthur stopped talking, his throat felt too tight, the air was too cold on his bare skin, Alfred's hand felt too comforting for Arthur's story.

"It's alright, Artie. It's just me and you now." Alfred pressed a dry kiss to Arthur's temple.

Arthur let the blush and smile creep onto his face. "You and I."

Alfred just kissed Arthur's cheek. "Whatever, Artie, just finish."

"Alright, well, on my birthday, I was going to tell Father. I was going to walk in the house and say, 'Father, I must tell you something.'" Arthur opened his eyes and looked into Alfred's sky blues. "But as I was walking home, a bomb dropped. I don't remember what happened or being there, but my hate the color red began. I can't stand blood, the sight or the smell. Thunder storms terrify me, when I see something in the sky, I go into panic mode." Arthur lowered his eyes. "I scared you off that first night because I feel that if I let someone into my life, they'll die."

"Arthur-"

"And now I'm starting to really like you and it's scaring me so much because you are a damn fighter pilot and you are going to get hurt and it's because of me!" Arthur brought his knees to his chest and Alfred noticed that his hands had scars on them. Thin and thick lines and circular scars littered his delicate hands and fingers.

"Arthur." Alfred took Arthur into his arms and ran his hand down Arthur's back. Scars there too. All of them raised and bumpy. "I'm going to be fine, Artie. Don't worry."

"It is most certainly not fine because you are going to leave me as soon as I fall in love with you. You are going to leave and die." Arthur said the last sentence quietly, like if he said it to loud, Alfred would drop dead in his arms.

"What are you talking about, Artie?" Alfred tried to smooth Arthur's wild locks as he traced the scars on Arthur's back.

"E-every time... every time I get close to someone... something happens to them. I had so many friends when I was young and thought liking boys was okay. Then they all shunned me when I kissed a boy on a dare. The girls stayed with me for a while, but they told their parents and they told them to stay away from me. They were my best and only friends. The boys always hurt me, no matter what. I told my family, besides my father. They didn't love me as much as they did before. When I got the courage to tell my father, they all died." Arthur wrapped his legs one of Alfred's, anchoring the American to his half nude body. "I think York has survived so long because I keep him at my side. This is the first night since I found him that we've been apart. I'm sure Ludwig will die one day because of me. And now you're going to Germany and you're going to d-die too!" Alfred just gave Arthur a confused look. "I'm cursed you bloody twit!" The Englishman shouted.

Alfred looked at Arthur for a moment, then burst into a grin, hoping to ease Arthur's obviously frayed nerves. "Arthur, I don't think you can be cursed."

Arthur just glared at Alfred from underneath his blonde bangs.

"I mean," Alfred pinched Arthur's chin between his fingers and raised his head. Their noses bumped against each other and Alfred felt a shiver dance down his spine at their closeness. "You are just so.." Alfred struggled trying to find the right words. Not finding any, he said simply, "You see fairies, Arthur." The American pulled Arthur's bare chest to his, unfortunately, covered one. "What on earth would curse someone who could see fairies? It's just so cute and innocent!"

Arthur felt a smile tug at his lips, but pushed down the urge to reward the cheery American with a smile. "Seeing ghosts, fairies, and liking other men is innocent?"

"Well, to me it is." Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur's bottom and picked up the Englishman. "You are the cutest thing I have ever seen!"

Arthur smiled and hooked his legs firmly around Alfred's hips. He didn't want to fall. "Promise me something."

"Anything." Alfred held Arthur closely to his warm body.

"Promise me that you'll come back to me. Safe and sound. I'm starting to like your idiotic ways." His eyes glimmered. "And you in general."

"I promise, Arthur." Alfred kissed Arthur's cheek and smiled.

Arthur was happily content for a moment, then realized that Alfred was touching his back. His hideous scars that glare at him in the mirror. He pushed Alfred away and moved back from the American.

"What's wrong, Artie?"

"You are touching them. I don't want you to look at them or touch them."

"Why not? I'm going to see wounds anyway, might as well see scars on someone I like, right?"

Arthur glared at the idiot. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, that I don't mind them." Alfred pulled Arthur close to him again.

"Yes, you do! You think I'm ugly and you want nothing to do with me because I have them... and... and.." Arthur clung to Alfred's strong arms.

"So what if you have scars? What's so great about normal skin that has no stories to tell?" Alfred rolled up his sleeve and Arthur saw indented marks on the crook of Alfred's elbow, some of them grotesquely brown. Arthur looked up at Alfred, shock in his eyes. "I was a drug addict. Now we're practically the same. We got caught in something terrible and it left its scars. But we have moved on. Look at us now. We survived the pain from the wounds. We're healed. Be proud that you have scars. It proves it's over."

That was possibly the wisest thing Alfred had ever said and Arthur felt his eyes sting with tears. Alfred was right. He had survived. Alone at first, then he got York, ghosts and fairies. Arthur should be proud that he is where he is today. And where he was at the moment felt pretty damn good and warm. "Thank you, Alfred."

Alfred only smiled and grabbed a lock of Arthur's hair, letting it slip through his fingers like silk. "How did your hair get so blonde?"

Even though Arthur was still scared out of his wits about the whole thing, he welcomed Alfred into changing the subject. "I don't know, actually. Everyone in my family had red or brown hair." he reached between their faces and grabbed his hair. "I didn't go outside much when the girls stopped playing with me. I stayed inside, drew, and read."

Alfred grinned broadly. "You can draw?! Show me!"

"Set me down then." Arthur smiled and kicked his legs.

"Oh." Alfred blushed and set the shorter man down. "Forgot I was holdin' ya."

"How do you forget you're holding someone?" Arthur rubbed his arms, goosebumps rising with the moon outside.

"Well, you're just so light! And I didn't notice we were the same height!" Alfred bent down to eye level with Arthur and grinned. "Now I'm your size, Artie!"

"You do not need to be a wanker, Alfred!" Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"Alright, alright. Now will ya show me how ya draw?" Alfred stood straight and noticed Arthur's gooseflesh.

"Yes, right in here." Arthur turned and went into the living room. He looked back and saw Alfred's jacket coming to him. "What...?" the heavy leather settled against his shoulder and he sighed at the warmth and smell of Alfred.

"You looked cold." Alfred smiled down at Arthur. "And your shirt is ruined so I thought..." He trailed off and blushed.

Arthur gazed at the blushing man, or rather, blushing boy. Alfred was nineteen, but he still looked young. Arthur could see fading acne on his face and his partially unbuttoned shirt showed off a smooth chest (check), revealing how young the confident American really was. Arthur smiled and slipped his arms in the sleeves, the hems hanging past his fingertips. "Thank you, Alfred." he tried to zip up the jacket but it got caught.

"Oh, hang on. I don't want it to pinch ya. It's kinda goofy." Alfred stepped close to Arthur and took the jacket zipper from his slender hands.

As Alfred struggled with the jacket, Arthur watched him. His brain was screaming at him to move away and go home, but his heart was cheering him on to stay with Alfred.

"There." Alfred smiled again, well, he never stopped smiling. It just seemed to get brighter each time he looked at Arthur. He pulled the zipper all the way up. The jacket hung low on Arthur so his collar bone and neck was showing quite a bit.

'Leave now, go home. He was brought here to die.' Arthur nodded his thanks. 'Kiss the man before it's too late! Who knows how long he has left? What if he does come back!?'

"Come on! I can't wait!" Alfred turned and went into the living room, then sat on the couch in front of the coffee table.

Arthur followed, but went to the bookshelf. He grabbed some blank paper and a pencil then sat beside the giddy American. "Alfred?"

"Yeah?" he turned and faced Arthur. Alfred had been expecting striking green eyes, but was met with Arthur's lips. Alfred blinked in shock, then closed his eyes and set a hand on Arthur's cold cheek.

Arthur sighed through his nose and leaned into Alfred's touch. 'I'm kissing him.' Arthur smiled to himself. 'And I'm not scared about him wanting to hurt me. Alfred is far to sweet for that.' Arthur's mind was a numb, happy mess, but he did come to his senses when Alfred bit his lip.

Jumping back, Arthur gasped and stood, his face flaming red. "Bloody hell. Holy bloody amazing hell" Arthur paced in front of Alfred and wrung his hands together.

"What?" Alfred stood from the couch. "Arthur..."

Arthur covered his face to hide his grin. He had kissed this goofy American, and loved it! But this was his, what, third day of knowing Alfred? This is not the relationship he wanted.

He turned to Alfred. "Listen, I-"

"We don't have to move so fast, Arthur!" Alfred said quickly, and the Englishman waited for him to continue. Alfred smiled, the apples of his cheeks red. "But I really like you, Artie. So, will you... ya know... be my..." Alfred's ears turned pink at the tips. "Ya know... boyfriend?"

Arthur stopped pacing and stared at Alfred. 'A relationship with this man, it sounds wonderful. Falling in love with him, then what happens? Is he going to leave? I'm so scared.'

"You don't have to be scared, Arthur." Alfred took Arthur's hands, grinning at Arthur's horrified look. Had he said that out loud? "I promise you, again, I'll come back. Safe and sound. I have only a couple weeks left before I have to go to Germany. So, what do ya say?"

Arthur breathed deeply, closed his eyes, chewed his lip. He reopened his eyes and looked up into Alfred's eager blues. "I say, we have a couple weeks."

Alfred grinned and pecked Arthur's cheek. "Nice and easy?"

Arthur felt his heart soar. Alfred understood that he wasn't used to people and even offered to take things slow. Alfred is so sweet and caring and thoughtful and...so many wonderful, wonderful things. "Nice and easy." he agreed.

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After Ludwig saw Arthur and Alfred drive off, he rushed to the car that was parked in front of the flower shop across the street. He got in the back seat and was met with shining brown eyes, chocolate hair and a happy, if slightly nervous smile. "Are you Ludwig?" the voice was coated in sugar and had an Italian accent.

"Are you Feliciano?" Ludwig asked as his answer.

The Italian clapped his hands and smiled widely. "Wonderful! Lovino, honk the horn in five minutes!" he leaned into the front seat and grabbed another boy's shoulder. The light danced off Feliciano's hair and Ludwig saw a wild curl sticking out above his ear.

The boy in the front seat turned and looked at Ludwig. His face was as sweet as Feliciano's, but he had his twisted into a scowl. His hair was darker and his green eyes were full of mischief. "I know what to do, Feli. So this is the German? Bastard."

"Lovino! Be nice to Ludwig! I bet he's just as scared as you are!" Feliciano pushed his brother's shoulder.

"It is fine. I've been called worse." Ludwig managed a shaky smile and touched Feliciano's shoulder. The little Italian looked at the big German and sat against the seat. He was on he floor of the car so the seat reached his neck. 'He seems so young. Arthur couldn't mean this boy.' Ludwig thought and settled himself beside Feliciano. "Is it okay if I let the cats out?"

"No." Lovino snapped and looked at his wrist watch.

Feliciano sighed and smiled at Ludwig. "Yes. Arthur told me about his cat. I know Boston, but I want to meet York!"

Ludwig smiled and pulled the heavy basket holding the cats in his lap and unbuckled the strap over Boston and York's backs. The big fluffy cat jumped out and into Feliciano's lap. He laughed and hugged Boston. "Long time no see gattino!" Feliciano stroked the cats ears and smiled fondly at the feline.

York was slower to get out, taking his time to meow grumpily at Ludwig before he jumped onto the seat beside Feliciano. "And you must be Arthur's kitty!" Feliciano reached behind him and let York sniff his hand.

"He's a grump so don't feel bad if he ignores you." Ludwig stretched his arm across the seat, practically around Feliciano's shoulders, and rubbed York's head.

"Aww... brontolone gattino!" Feliciano turned and grinned at York.

Ludwig smiled slightly at the boy. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying ki-"

"Antonio! Get your stupid bastard ass out here!" Lovino shouted from the window, making Feliciano startle and fall against Ludwig's shoulder.

"I'm coming, Lovi!" A Spanish accented voice came through the door of the flower shop.

Feliciano looked up at Ludwig, his tanned cheeks turned bright pink. "I'm sorry, Ludwig!" he squeaked then rounded on his twin. "Lovino! Stop shouting will you?!"

Ludwig was too shocked to speak, the little Italian was sitting in his lap. He was very light against Ludwig's legs, he was also soft. Very soft. Ludwig wanted to hold Feliciano. It had been so long since he'd had normal human contact. Arthur and Alfred are the only two he's spoken face to face to in months. And their conversations were about stuff they didn't have because of the war, or how they needed to keep Ludwig safe, and just mainly the war. But, Feliciano didn't say a thing about the war. He bickered with his brother and smiled and played with the cats. Feliciano was the first human contact Ludwig had that he enjoyed thoroughly. He had the urge to take Feliciano away and hide him so the war could never damage his spirit. He wanted to hold and kiss and love this Italian. But how could he? He looked no older than seventeen! Ludwig was turning twenty-four in a couple months, he couldn't be thinking about this kid! Feliciano looked up at Ludwig again and climbed off his lap. "I'm sorry, Ludwig." he said again. "Lovi scared me." he picked up Boston and settled into his spot on the floor.

Ludwig cleared his throat. "It's fine, Feliciano." he moved to the other side of the car and ducked his head when he saw a shadow coming.

"Took you long enough, bastard." Lovino grumbled.

"I had to make sure I got my special someone the right flowers!" Ludwig furrowed his brow. Why did that voice sound familiar? What was his name? Lovino shouted it... The car door slammed shut and a tan, curly dark haired man leaned across the front seat and set a bouquet of scented flowers in Lovino's lap. "I also got Feli a blue flower" he reached in the back seat and handed Feliciano a blue bell.

Ludwig studied the man's profile. Something in the back of his mind twitched. Where had he seen this man before?

Feliciano smiled brightly and grabbed the flower. "Thank you, Antonio! Ludwig, this is Tonio. He watches Lovi and I for our grandpa! That reminds me.." he reached into his pocket.

Ludwig smiled. Oh well. He was sure he could figure it out sooner or later. He wanted to see what Feliciano was getting. Lovino started up a fight in the front about Antonio buying him flowers and Ludwig tuned them out. Feliciano was just better to pay attention to. His hair looked soft enough to pet all night, his smile was always at the ready, his eyes glimmered constantly and his voice carried through the air like music. Ludwig was falling for this young Italian boy and he didn't even know his last name! He blamed being hidden in Arthur's attic for months on end.

"Here, Ludwig!" Feliciano held out the same picture Alfred had shown him. "That's my grandpa! I've met yours, he's really nice. We called him Grandma."

Ludwig laughed, the first time in a long time. How did this boy manage to make him laugh so easily? "Why did you call him Grandma?"

"When Lovi and I were little, his hair was long then too,"

"His hair had always been long." Ludwig set his elbow on the seat behind him and rested his head in his hand.

Feliciano nodded and blushed. He had forgotten Grandma was Ludwig's grandpa with Ludwig's face so close to his own, it was hard to concentrate. He tried to look away from Ludwig's clear, bright blue eyes, but only blushed more the longer he looked. "Well, we thought he was a girl and he was always on Grandpa's lap, so we called him Grandma."

Ludwig pointed to the man next to him in the picture. "My brother and I just called your grandfather Roma." his eyes turned a bit sad, Feliciano noticed. "Hey, did you have something to do with the braid in Grandfather's hair? He never took it out."

"He didn't!? Oh, that's so sweet! He promised he wouldn't and he didn't! Did you hear that, Lovi!?" Feliciano's eyes sparkled amber and he grabbed his twin's shoulder.

"That's nice." Lovino turned in the seat and looked at Ludwig, a tiny smile on his lips, then he glared. "You look like Grandma. Maybe you'll act like him towards Feli too."

Ludwig raised one of his blonde eyebrows. "Like a military captain?"

"What the hell are you talking about, bastard? He was never like that." Lovino glared at Ludwig.

"Yeah. Grandma played soccer and stuff with us." Feliciano tilted his head and Ludwig felt his stomach flip at how cute he looked.

Coughing in his hand, Ludwig explained, "He played with my brother and I too, but we had to do our chores and help with the dogs before we could. If we did it wrong, we would have to do it over then we weren't allowed to play."

Everything besides the dog part seemed to go straight through Felicano's head, for he gasped and said, "Dogs? You have puppies!?" he smiled brightly and Ludwig's stomach did two more flips and a twirl.

"Yeah. Chocolate lab and a German Shepard. I had to leave them with Grandfather when my brother and I left Germany."

Feliciano looked up at Ludwig sadly and opened his mouth to say something when Antonio stopped the car. "Alright. You two out and into the house quickly, don't forget the cats. Feliciano, take him to the kitchen and cover the windows, keep the cats inside."

"Okay, Tonio." Feliciano picked up Boston and moved to the door. "Ready, Ludwig?"

Ludwig grabbed York and nodded.

"Here we go!" Feliciano opened the door and rushed into the house. Ludwig followed quickly, forcing himself not to look at Feliciano's backside. Instead, he looked at the house. It was painted yellow at one point, but now it was faded and peeling. The roof had shingles missing. The house was short and Ludwig was pretty sure he would have to duck down to get through the door. There was a garbage can in the front that was overflowing with trash. The little Italian opened the front door and let Boston loose. "I'm sorry it's such a mess on the outside. I would paint it red, white and green, but then people would know we're not from here."

"I know the feeling." Ludwig followed Feliciano inside and looked around. The couch had blankets and pillows on it, and a spot on the floor beside the couch looked familiar.

There was a coffee table littered with paper and the walls were covered with pictures. Photos and paintings alike. Ludwig followed Feliciano into the kitchen. The air smelt like marinara sauce and garlic.

"It's a mess in here to huh?" Feliciano gave the room a look, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, we didn't have time to clean up and..." he let the sentence drop with a sigh.

"It's fine, Feliciano. I don't mind." Ludwig smiled and set down York, who dashed off to find Boston. "My brother was a pig so I don't mind a little mess."

Feliciano nodded. "We have some extra pasta from today. It might be cold, though."

"I'm not hungry." Ludwig said with a soft smile. Actually, he was too nervous to eat. What if Alfred's plan didn't work and now Braginski was watching him and Feliciano?

Antonio burst through the door with a blushing Lovino in his arms. "Alright! Now, I need Feliciano to take Ludwig to your room and keep him there."

Now that Ludwig could see Antonio, he understood why the name sounded familiar. "Antonio!" He blinked at the Spanish man.

"Ludwig! You've gotten big!" Antonio set Lovino down and hugged Ludwig, clapping his back. Over his shoulder, Ludwig saw Lovino look a bit jealous. "I'm glad you're safe, Ludwig."

"Yeah, I'm happy you got out too." Ludwig hugged his brother's friend tightly then let go.

"I thought you were just a random Jew! I wasn't sure if Ludwig was a popular name or not! Good thing I agreed! I'm glad its you!" Antonio grinned and slapped Ludwig's shoulder. "Sorry to send you upstairs to hide, amigo."

"It's quite alright, I'm used to hiding." Ludwig pointed to the Star of David sitting proudly on his chest.

"Yes, of course. No lights, Feli." Antonio dismissed them with a smile and a wink at Lovino.

"Okay! This way, Ludwig!" Feliciano grabbed Ludwig's hand and led him upstairs. "My room is very small. Lovino insisted I get the only room and that he and Antonio will sleep on the couch and floor." he smiled back at Ludwig and winked. "Lovi won't say it, but he loves Tonio."

Ludwig smiled at the boy. "When Antonio would visit, he would always say he had someone waiting for him at home."

"You know Tonio? Well, I guess you do since he hugged you and stuff, but how?"

"He and my brother were best friends. They also ran around with some strange Frenchman."

"Oh." Feliciano opened a door and ducked into his room. The room was small and it had a slanted ceiling. His bed was nestled against the wall on the low side against the wall and he had a trunk across the room. There was about five feet between the two objects. On the wall opposite the door was a small rectangular window. The wall and ceiling above the bed were drawn on with pencil. "I can get extra blankets and stuff in a minute."

"Alright." Ludwig crossed the room and looked at the pictures. The first thing he saw was pasta. There were also drawings of Feliciano and Lovino. Antonio was next to Lovino and Alfred was drawn goofily in the corner. Cats and dogs chased each other throughout the drawings.

"Aaah! Don't look at those!" Feliciano jumped in front of Ludwig and pushed at his chest.

"How come?"

Feliciano blushed and looked down at their feet. "They're not very good."

"They're cute." Ludwig smiled down at Feliciano.

Feliciano's face flamed and he dropped his hands. "I'm going to get blankets!" he squeaked and ran downstairs.

Ludwig slapped his forehead. "Damn. Now he thinks I'm a god damn creep." he sat on the bed heavily. "I need to stop acting like a teenager." he looked at the drawings. They were more like doodles, but they were cute.

The little Italian returned moments later with an armful of quilts, his face still red. "Here. I got the ones Grandma brought us from Germany to make you feel at home."

Ludwig smiled at his kind heart and stood. "Thank you." He grabbed the blankets and spread them on the floor beside Feliciano's bed.

"Do you want to play a game?" Feliciano sat on his bed.

"Huh?"

Felicano smiled and kicked his legs. "It's a question game! I ask you something, then it's your turn after you answer! You can pass only three times!"

"Alright." Ludwig sat beside the little Italian.

"Me first! Okay, who is your best friend?" Feliciano looked up at Ludwig, his smile never faltering and always there.

Ludwig was silent for a moment. Did Arthur count as a friend? Probably not. Gilbert had always been close to him. Antonio and Francis just bugged him. Other than that, he didn't really have any friends. "I guess my brother."

"Hmm.." Feliciano's smile softened. "Your turn."

"Why did you leave Italy?" Ludwig faced the little Italian.

"Grandpa wanted us to. He said it wasn't safe anymore. So he packed us up, got Tonio to watch over us and here we are! We're here until the war is over and Italy is safe."

"That's what happened to me and my brother. But, the idiot he is, he wasn't quiet about it and let everyone know we were Jewish." Feliciano noticed that Ludwig's eyes seemed to get a faraway look and his lips turned up in a small smile when he talked about his brother.

"What's your brother's name?" he asked softly, trying to resist the urge to grab Ludwig's hand.

"Gilbert."

"Where is he?"

Ludwig smiled the smallest smile Feliciano had ever seen, but it was also the most endearing. The German's eyes glimmered with sadness. "Isn't it my turn?"

"Oh!" Feliciano said, blushing. He nodded. "Yes, sorry."

"It's fine. How old are you, Feliciano?"

"Twenty-three."

Twenty-three. Ludwig felt his heart stop, then pound uncontrollably around in his chest and launch itself into his throat. So he could admire the Italian, even if he did look seventeen. All of his thoughts about Feliciano were no longer inappropriate, but thoughts that could turn into a relationship. "Oh. Well, your turn."

"What happened to your brother?"

As soon as Feliciano asked, he regretted it. Ludwig's face fell and his fingers curled into fists. "He... he was taken."

"Oh, Ludwig. I can't imagine how you feel." Feliciano wanted to comfort Ludwig but how could he without scaring the Jewish man off?

"I wouldn't want you to imagine it anyway. It's awful and heartbreaking to watch and feel. It hurts more than being drenched with ice water in the middle of winter in the early morning. The water freezes to your skin like a memory. The cold air gets inside your body and tears at your insides, and while you sleep, it goes to your mind and makes you relive what happened. It makes you sick. You should have helped him, but you were too scared. Even if he did tell you to stay put. But in your mind, you know that there is nothing you can do. You're trapped in a box and if you move, the ice will break and slit your skin until you are nothing more than a pile of blood and torn flesh begging for mercy on the ground-"

"Stop!" Feliciano stood, his eyes were bright and his chin was trembling. "You're scaring me!"

Ludwig just looked at Feliciano, his eyes dull and cold. His jaw was clenched and he was sitting stock still. Feliciano let out a shuddering breath and hugged Ludwig tight and close.

"It's okay, Ludwig. Your brother is safe. I know it. He will be looking for you once this is all over." Feliciano sat one of his knees next to Ludwig's thighs, he was practically sitting on the German's knee.

Ludwig felt Feliciano's warmth and gentleness through the fog in his mind. He let the little Italian lean into his broad chest and took the comfort his softness provided. "I'm sorry." he whispered and set a hand on Feliciano's back.

"It's okay, Ludwig." Feliciano took a step back and touched Ludwig's cheeks. "Now you look so pale and exhausted. I bet you haven't gotten a wink of sleep since leaving Germany. You can sleep in my bed." Feliciano pushed Ludwig into his pillows. When Ludwig's head hit the cushion, a burst of flowers, sugar and marinara sauce went into his nose and he relaxed. That's how Feliciano smelled, sweet and yummy.

"What about you?" Ludwig felt feliciano taking off his boots and blushed. He was being taken care of by this boy - well, he's twenty-three, so man, he just met.

"I can sleep on the floor. I don't mind." Feliciano smiled sweetly at Ludwig. Ludwig looked so cute with his hair ruffled and his eyes galzed. "Buonanotte, Ludwig."

The German managed a smile. "Guten nacht, Feliciano." This time, when Ludwig slept, he didn't have nightmares. He dreamt of a little Italian who smelled of flowers, sweets and pasta.

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After Matthew left Alfred and Arthur, he went to the park Francis told him he would be waiting at. Matthew looked around the dim trees and benches, hoping Francis was still waiting. He stepped around a tree and saw Francis sitting on a bench looking bored. Matthew's heart sped up and he grinned. Francis would always be waiting for him. He ran over to the Frenchman. "Francis!"

Francis looked up and stood. "Matthieu. I've been waiting."

"I know, I'm so sorry. Alfred needed my help and it took a-" Matthew's foot got caught on a loose root and he fell forward onto the cobblestones.

"Matthieu!" Francis ran to Matthew and picked him up. "Oh, let me see. Come here." Fracnis guided Matthew to the bench he had been sitting on. Matthew leaned against Francis fully and limped along.

"I'm sure it's just a scrape." Matthew wrapped his arms around Francis's so he wouldn't fall.

"Let me see. Take your pants off."

Matthew blushed. "It's on my knee Francis! I can roll my pants up!"

Francis sighed and lowered Matthew onto the bench. "What if I just wanted your pants off?"

"Well, you'll have to wait until we're in private. And I'll need a more convincing way of you saying that besides telling me to 'drop 'em'." Matthew smiled softly and rolled up his trouser leg. He winced at the instant bruise covering his knee cap and the blood that was trickling down his leg.

"Oh, mon cher." Francis pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at Matthew's minor injury. Matthew, always the one to bruise like a peach that didn't like getting hurt, winced and jerked his leg back.

"Francis! That hurt!"

The Frenchman looked up. "It's just a scrape."

"Yeah, but it stings and I'm bleeding and it's bruised and it hurts really bad!" Matthew blinked his tears away.

"What's going to happen if you crash your plane? It's going to be a lot more than blood, bruises and hurting 'really bad'."

"That's different. I can fly better than I walk." Matthew allowed Francis to clean his injury again.

Francis was silent, then he stood suddenly and glared. "If you can't handle this, then how can you handle if your plane does crash!?" He snapped and Matthew stared at him, eyes wide and mouth open.

After a few moments of Matthew's heart not beating, he inched away from Francis and looked away. "Is that why you've been keeping me so close? You don't think I can take care of myself?"

"I took care of you for years. Then you were taken from me. Alfred took care of you for almost ten years. Yes, I don't think you are ready for war. How on Earth will you manage if you get captured?" Francis sat beside Matthew and twisted his long, elegant fingers together. "I've always worried about you, Matthieu. All the time we were in the orphanage. Even when you had to leave, I wondered. 'Is he okay? Does he have Kumajiro? Is he happy? Does he think of me?' I didn't know what happened to you. I was so worried. I guess, I still am." Francis bowed his head. "I just got you back. I'm scared of losing you again, mon cher."

"Oh, Francis." Matthew took hold of his lover's hand and offered a soft smile. "I'm not leaving you ever again. I'll be careful, and I'll have Alfred with me."

"What if Alfred isn't enough? I would just as much rather have you on the ground instead of up there. I'd much rather have you here with me." Francis peered at Matthew from behind his curtain of blonde curls.

Matthew was silent. Was Francis asking him to give up flying so he could stay safe? But he was right. Alfred gave Matthew the majority of the food they could get, Alfred worked while Matthew went shopping and cooked at the old woman's house. Matthew had always been taken care of. But he loved flying. Could he give it up for his lover?

Francis didn't feel good about trying to keep Matthew from flying, but he didn't want to lose the boy again. He was too precious to Francis.

Finally, Matthew said, "Francis, what if I do give up flying? You would still be on damage control on the battlefield. I think your job is more dangerous."

"We go in when the dust settles so we have a clear view of things. No one has ever gotten hurt on damage control. And you can be part of my group. There is always room for one more. We can share a tent so you don't have to sleep beside disgusting pigs like you do now. Please, Matthew. I'll worry too much with you alone in the big open sky." Francis used the English pronunciation of Matthew's name. That meant the Frenchman was serious. "I want you with me for the rest of my life."

Matthew battled with himself. How could he leave Alfred alone with all of those disgusting men? Sure, he was strong, but not alone. Not without someone to be a hero to. But Alfred could ignore them and fight like a mad man when needed. Alfred would be okay without Matthew. But what about flying? That would make Matthew bored and irate since he would have nothing to do to get away from everyone. But if he was with Francis, then he could survive not flying for who knows how long. If he was with Francis, he could feel a different kind of love than what he does from Alfred. Going with Francis meant they could make up for lost time and lonely years. Matthew took a deep breath. "It's going to be hard, but I can leave Alfred and the other pilots." he smiled sweetly and squeezed Francis's hand. "I'll become apart of your crew."

Francis grinned and pulled Matthew into his lap. "Thank you, Matthieu. I feel so much better about you going with me. I can protect you easier and we can separate our tent a bit from the others." he wiggled his eyebrows and Matthew laughed.

"I know you'll be there for me if I need you." he nuzzled Francis's neck, giggling when his beard rubbed against his forehead.

"Hmm..." Francis clsoed his eyes and held Matthew closely. "Do you need me now?" his slender fingers trailed down Matthew's thigh.

"Take me to your rooms, clean me up and I'll pray about it." Matthew curled his fingers into Francis's shirt and kissed his jaw.

Francis stood, holding Matthew in his arms like a blushing bride,. "Let us make haste then, mon cher!"

Matthew laughed again and let Francis carry him back to his room in town, anticipating exploring Francis's life after they were separated, and his body.

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Yao had been punished again. He was lying naked on Ivan's big bed. Red marks littered his torso, legs and arms. His hips, thighs, and ass were killing him. He still had the ropes secured around his wrists even though they were no longer tied tightly to the head board. He knew his hair was a mess by how harshly Ivan had thrust into him. The sheets were ripped from under the mattress. Ivan had left Yao like this. Yao closed his eyes. He knew why he was punished. He had been tricked and led Ivan to the librarian instead of the Jewish man. Ivan had come back to the boat with his eyes full of anger and his mind set on punishing Yao for misleading him. Yao's throat was raw from screaming and crying. He had told Ivan it was a mistake, that he didn't mean to misguide Ivan. But the Russian refused to stop until he was releasing his orgasm harshly into Yao. He had left after cutting the ropes from the bed and cleaning Yao and himself up. That had been over an hour ago. Yao was starting to get hungry and tired. But he couldn't leave. Ivan might come back while he was gone and punish him again. This time a lot worse. Besides, Yao didn't think he could stand. Let alone walk to the kitchens and get a hearty bowl of rice and some roasted duck. And he couldn't sleep. If Ivan came back and saw him sleeping after punishment, he would be furious. He liked to talk about what Yao had done wrong while cradling the Chinese man in his big arms. Yao had to stay on the bed or face Ivan and his rage again. So, he cried.

Yao didn't hate Ivan. He thought Ivan was misunderstood. He truly believed that if Ivan could take a petty thief like Yao off the streets and turn him into who he was today, Yao could tame the anger in Ivan and they could have a happy like without having to have rough sex or killing people.

He looked up at the ceiling. He rocked with the gentle waves of the boat. Ivan owned this boat. It was the fastest Russia could build. He kept prisoners on it. He kept a crew, cooks, and maids. He kept Yao on the boat.

Ivan then entered the room and closed the door, sliding the dead bolt in so no one could enter. Yao heard his boot buckles clink together then the soft thud of the heavy leather hitting the floor. Yao wiped his eyes, the cut rope scratching his chest. He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain nailed itself into the small of his back and shot up his spine. He fell back, tears returning and turned his head to Ivan.

"I'm sorry I can't greet you, Ivan." and he truly was. He wanted to stand and have Ivan shed his tough persona and hold him like normal.

Ivan turned to Yao and gave a small smile, he took off his coat and scarf. "It is okay. I am sorry if I hurt you." he had a sheepish look in his eyes and Yao's heart fluttered.

"I am fine, aru. Will you take these ropes off and come here?"

Ivan nodded and cut the ropes from Yao's wrists and slid next to him on the silk sheets. "I couldn't find him."

"Is that bad, aru? You are here with me."

Yao felt Ivan smile against his forehead. "You're right. When you feel better, we both can look for him, kitten."

Kitten. Yao loved his pet name. "Okay, aru. I hope I will be better soon, it really doesn't feel good."

Ivan pulled back and looked at Yao harshly. "You deserved it for lying to me."

"Yes. I know. They tricked me though, aru. I would never make you look bad on purpose!" Yao felt the threat of tears. He had never cried in front of Ivan and planned not to.

"Well, at least you know." Ivan settled back against the pillows and pulled Yao to him.

Yao winced at the rough fabric on his sore skin but let Ivan hold him as if he were a teddy bear. "I am sorry, aru."

Ivan mumbled something that Yao couldn't decipher and fell asleep. Yao sighed, but felt relieved. He wouldn't have to explain how those idiotic westerners fooled him until morning. He moved into a more comfortable position within Ivan's embrace and reached for the covers. He liked Ivan best at night. When he acted like his other self. The sweet, childlike, caring one. Yao dared a peck on Ivan's smooth cheek and whispered. "Good night, Ivan. Sleep well, aru." Then Yao fell asleep with Ivan's warmth.

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Author's note: Holy bloody monkey balls. Extra long chapter for my absence... I had this all planned out though so I was thinking of you! I start school soon, so I can't promise my chapters will be frequent like the first ones. I'm sorry I was gone for so long! Just... gaah slow drivers. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this giant filler chapter. The next one is plotty. Yay! Special thanks for my Hannah fish ((my beta)) for correcting my grammer ;) hahaha. Please review so I know you all didn't give up on me! The chapter after next will be Boston and York!

*Hannah fish/DaifukuBun/Beta says: She told me not to correct the word grammar and leave it grammer. I'm confused. Blap. Ehm, also, apparently there's smut next chapter so leave now if you're afraid of that dinky little M rating in the corner there. Cheers.