Happy Birthday to Ivan Braginsky! And also to me, but I think we all know who's more important. As a birthday gift from me to you, here's the untimely demise of my beloved OTP. Ahaha. Ha.

The morning after what should have been the worst day of his life, the day that should have ended his world, Kiku woke up to his alarm without a problem. He moved through the cold, unfeeling fog that now followed him everywhere, got ready, and went to work. He did it like nothing had happened. Like he had never met Heracles to begin with.

When he arrived at the hospital, Feliciano and Ludwig were sitting at the table, talking amongst themselves. Feliciano had returned to work a few days prior. Though he still seemed quieter, somber, he was getting better. Slowly. When he laid eyes on Kiku, however, he suddenly became ten times as animated as he had been in months. "Mio Dio, Kiku, what are you doing here?" He shot up from the table so quickly he nearly tripped, ran over, and gripped Kiku's arms. Kiku pulled away. "Oh my God, you need to be home! I'm so sorry about Heracles, I cried when I heard what happened, we're here for you, if you ever need anything-"

Ludwig stood up with far less energy. "Feliciano," he said warningly. Feliciano stopped speaking, and his expression morphed into the same sympathetic look Matthew had. Ludwig walked over with a similar look in his eyes. Kiku looked away. "You do realize you are not expected to be here, correct? You should take a personal day."

Kiku blinked, feeling almost confused. He was scheduled to work today, so he was at work. That was all there was to it. "I am scheduled for a shift."

"I could speak to Mr. Edelstein for you. I am certain he would understand."

There was no doubt in Kiku's mind that Roderich, their house supervisor, would understand. That was not the issue. If he took the day off, what was he supposed to do? Stare at the walls and wait for the feelings he knew he should have, all while the guilt ate him alive? Work would provide nothing if not a sense of normality- something that had been missing from his life for months. "I will be fine."

For far longer than what was comfortable, Ludwig just stared at him. A series of expressions passes over his face in rapid-fire speed- sympathy, then disbelief, and finally something that looked a cross between sadness and resignation. It was actually strange to watch. "If you are sure."

Kiku nodded. If there was one thing left that he was sure about, it was this. He gathered his things and set off to go to his first patient, trying and failing to ignore the eyes of his coworkers burning into his back as he went, pretending he did not hear their nervous whispers. It was not until he stopped walking that he realized he had gone to Heracles's room out of habit.

.

Even though he had not gone through it since his grandfather passed during his early childhood, Kiku was fairly certain this was not how mourning worked. Three days passed effortlessly, numbly. If anything, life without Heracles in his house felt… strange. Nothing more and nothing less. It felt like music had been abruptly switched off after playing continuously for hours. It was empty, but somehow it was not devastating. Kiku went to work, ate, slept- he simply continued living, though he felt less than alive. He did not feel dead, either. He simply felt as though he did not exist.

The silence was finally broken on the third day, when there was a knock at the door. Kiku stood up from where he was sitting, only occupied by staring at the wall- something he had been doing a lot of lately. He walked over to the door, opened it, and saw that it was Yao. "Kiku," he said as if he was afraid to speak. "I know we haven't been talking, but…"

Kiku held out his hand, stopping him. "This is my fault." And it was. Kiku had barely been in contact with his brother, and he had not even done it intentionally. What he had said so many months ago was hurtful, sure, but it was hardly worth holding a grudge over. The lack of communication was a result of nothing other than neglectfulness. "Please come in."

So Yao did, though he looked hesitant to. He walked into Kiku's house like someone had a gun to his temple. After a few moments in this strange, silent trance, he sighed as if he had been holding his breath. "I heard what happened."

"Oh." Kiku was hardly surprised. "I see."

"How are you doing?"

If only that wasn't as loaded of a question as it was. Kiku opened his mouth to speak only to shut it when he realized he didn't have an answer. He could say he was fine, but at the same time, that was exactly the reason why he wasn't fine. He only spoke when he noticed Yao was staring at him intently, obviously waiting for an answer. "I…" Kiku cleared his throat. "I am not completely certain." It was all he could think to say.

To his relief, Yao nodded as though he understood. He clasped his hands together behind his back. "I understand he was living with you."

Out of instinct alone, Kiku glanced towards the bedroom. "Yes."

The ticking of a nearby clock was suddenly so loud it rang in Kiku's ears. Yao looked as though he was at a loss for words. He looked uncomfortable, standing stiffly in the middle of the room, and Kiku could not say he felt much different. Still, neither of them moved an inch. "That must have been difficult," said Yao finally.

"Sort of." Kiku shrugged. Yes, caring for Heracles full time was, at times, difficult. That did not mean he wouldn't do it again without a second thought. Still without looking at his brother, he spoke without thinking. "I love him."

Yao made a small sound that suggested he had begun to say something, but stopped himself. When he noticed Kiku looking at him, he sighed and looked up. "Most people would say loved."

Then, Kiku finally began to feel something. It was not sadness like he expected it to be, but rather something far less common for him- anger. It boiled his blood and caused his hands to curl into fists. Did Yao think that he did not speak English, or did he simply think he was incompetent? "No," he said. "No, Yao. I still love Heracles, and it does not matter that he is-"

Kiku suddenly could not breathe. Like puzzle pieces locking together, something clicked in his mind. The rest of the world faded away, broke into pieces, tumbled on top of him and crushed him. Every inch of his body ached, screamed, shut down. "…dead." Hearing himself say it only amplified the feeling times ten. His vision blurred; his throat closed. He wanted Heracles. He wanted him right then, wanted him to hold him, wanted him to smile and pull some philosophical thing out of thin air that somehow made everything better. It was an overpowering, painful, torturous need a thousand times stronger than anything he had felt in his life.

And he would never be able to have that again.

Kiku's pulse sped up to a point that he thought it would explode from his body. He was deafened by the ringing in his ears, blinded by the way the room was suddenly spinning around him. He did not even hear himself when he continued to speak. "Heracles…" But even if he did not hear himself, the word blew through his mind like a bullet. He was certain he was dying. He wanted to. There was no way this kind of pain was possibly if he wasn't. "I can't breathe…"

Without warning, the ground was no longer beneath his feet. He heard Yao screaming his name, saying something that might as well have been in another language. He felt himself being caught, held, and for a moment he allowed himself to believe it actually was Heracles and the last few days had been nothing more than a horrible dream. Finally, when the room stopped spinning long enough to make sense of the sound around him, Kiku was able to understand some of what Yao was saying. "You can breathe, Kiku, please just try!"

He tried to follow the order, even if it felt like inhaling hot tar. He realized he was finally crying, harder than he ever had in his life. At his own grandfather's funeral, he had sat stiff-lipped, only shredding a few silent tears. Now he could not even see, and he felt as if he was being smothered. It was an unfamiliar, humiliating, awful feeling, and yet he hardly cared. It was not until the air went back to normal that Kiku could say something that made sense. "Heracles is gone, Yao." He took a deep, trembling breath that burned his lungs. "Forever." And for the first time, he believed it.

Once Kiku was steady enough to stand, Yao let him go with a heavy sigh. "I think you should go lie down," he said. "And I'm calling your work. You aren't going in tomorrow."

Once the panic left him, Kiku was overcome by a heavy exhaustion that weighed down his lungs and rendered him too fatigued to move. His body just felt heavy. So this was the feeling he had been waiting for. He nodded, far too tired to open his mouth and form words. The denial had vanished. For the past few days, at least part of him had been convinced that he would go into work, walk to Heracles's room, and open the door to see him smiling back at him. Now, the truth had finally set it. Part of him wished he could just go back to feeling guilty. All that time ago, when he and Heracles had first met, Yao had been right- knowing truly was different than understanding.

All Kiku wanted to do was sleep, but when he reached his bed, he realized he couldn't. The cruel world refused to leave him be. All he could do was cry.

.

After Yao visited and Kiku's world imploded, he entered what could only be described as hell itself.

He was given a week off. One week to supposedly recover, one week to somehow piece himself back together after being shattered. After seven days he was supposed to be okay, even if he was sure nothing would ever be okay again. Finally, he started to realize the consequences of pretending he had no emotions. Every emotion he had been repressing slammed into him both all at once and repeatedly during that awful, torturous week that seemed to last about a million years. They tore him apart, suffocated him, and there was no escape.

For most of his life, Kiku had a consistent sleep schedule. He would go to bed around ten, every night, and then wake up around six, every morning. During this week, the line between awake and asleep seemed to blur dramatically. He was in bed far too much, and when he was, he felt as if he was trapped in some strange limbo between the two states. There was no semblance of a routine. Sleep was his only relief, and he did it either far too little or way too much. He could not even be sure.

Kiku had never raised his voice much. He had always tried to stay composed, soft-spoken. During this week, he frequently found himself screaming at the top of his lungs. It was a miracle none of his neighbors called the police in fear that he was being slaughtered. He screamed into pillows, into the air around him, and on a few occasions, while he threw something against the wall. It was all he could think to do to try and relieve some of the painful pressure pressing down on him every second of every day. Sometimes he screamed Heracles's name, and sometimes he could only whisper it. Then he would cry. He cried ten times more than he ever had in his life during that one week. It was like living in another dimension.

If Kiku held any belief in a god prior to that week, it was gone by the time it ended. He had never known such pure, intense pain existed. He was completely sure no god would allow it. No god would take Heracles away at twenty-seven. And that was what kept getting to him. Heracles was twenty-seven years old when he died from something he was far too young for, something that could have been corrected if it was caught in time. That was what caused Kiku to drink too much, scream too loudly, barely eat, and cry until his eyes grew red and he ran out of tears. That was what made it possible to sleep without actually resting. It was just so, so unfair. It was too cruel. Yet that was the reality he was living in now.

Kiku knew he was acting like a train wreck, and more than anything, he knew Heracles would not want this. Of course he would not want this. No matter how clear that was, it did nothing to lessen the pain. He could not stop himself from falling apart.

And then there was one day, one horrific, surreal day that he would never forgive himself for. For a moment of complete insanity, a heart-stopping thought entered his mind: Heracles was a mistake. If Kiku had not met him, had not fallen in love, this would not be happening. But as soon as the thought registered, Kiku pushed it away and vowed never to consider such a thing again. Even if he felt as if he was drowning while simultaneously being lit on fire, he would never regret loving Heracles over something as petty as his own comfort after the fact. Heracles had changed his world. He would have done it all over again in a heartbeat. And even if Kiku was out of it the day his death finally hit him, he had meant what he said: He still loves Heracles. Love, not loved.

Eventually, Kiku accepted that he had to at least try to pull himself together. When his week in hell came to a close and he opened his front door for the first time since it started, the sunlight nearly blinded him. It was too bright. The world in general was too bright, too alive. Still, Kiku pushed through and went to work. He had a job to do. Life without Heracles was still his life and he had to live it, even if he honestly didn't want to anymore. Even if it seemed pointless.

He did it for him.

.

It was a cruel coincidence that the day Kiku returned to work was one of the days the hospice department had a meeting. The conferences took place every couple of weeks and involved everyone who had anything to do with hospice, including the nurses. So Kiku sat sandwiched between Feliciano and Ludwig, both of them too quiet, all three of them pretending things were normal. Kiku was barely able to keep his eyes open, hardly feeling alive. He did not look up until Roderich began to list the patients who had died during the previous month.

There were far too many names, but Kiku was deaf to all but two. "…Roma Vargas, Heracles Karpusi…"

And there was that drowning feeling again. Kiku almost went back to habit, almost tried to will away his emotions and withdrawal into himself. But he was not able to, because Feliciano silently reached out and took his hand. Kiku thought to pull away, but decided not to. At least he was not alone. Feliciano looked to the side and smiled, though it didn't carry to his eyes. Kiku managed to smile back, somehow.

After the meeting, Ludwig had mumbled something about the psychiatric wing and disappeared. It was not until the remaining two were in the staffroom that the silence was broken. Feliciano tapped Kiku on the shoulder, and when he turned around, Kiku noticed that Feliciano looked almost timid. That was nothing if not new. "Is something wrong, Feliciano?"

Feliciano flipped his hand dismissively. "No, no," he said. He messed with his hair and shifted his weight to one foot as if he were nervous. "I just had something to ask you, that's all."

Kiku nodded. "Alright."

"Well," said Feliciano. He broke off, sighed, and then looked up apologetically. "Mr. Edelstein has a Christmas party every year on Christmas eve. I know the timing is really bad and everything is a mess right now, but I was wondering if you wanted to come. Ludwig and I are going." Feliciano wrung his hands together. "I thought, you know, maybe it would help take our minds off of everything."

If Kiku was to list the things he was planning to do that Christmas, partying of any kind would be somewhere under option two thousand. His life had turned on its side, morphed into something else entirely, and then finally shattered into sharp fragments over the past six months alone. Things were far too chaotic and recently, far too awful to even consider it. Still, he could not tell himself that what Feliciano was saying made no sense. He could not be sure if he could trust himself to be alone on Christmas with nothing but thoughts of Heracles to keep him company.

So, against all better judgment, he said, "Sure, Feliciano. I will come."

Feliciano smiled like he hadn't in weeks. "Yay, Kiku! It'll be fun, okay? I promise. Bring whoever you want."

When Kiku's immediate thought was Heracles might like to go, he had to close his eyes momentarily. These kinds of thoughts still snuck up on him when he least expected them. "I think I will go alone," he said. "Thank you, though."

Feliciano nodded. He said nothing for a long while, but he did not move, either. It was as if he was fighting with himself. "Hey, Kiku?" he said finally.

"Yes?"

"How are you doing?"

Kiku was sure he would be hearing that question quite a bit for a while. This time, he could definitely not say he was fine. He felt no need to lie, either. "I have been better." Maybe it was a lie by omission. Kiku was fairly certain he had never been worse.

Feliciano nodded again. "Me too," he said. "Have you talked with Matthew at all? I've been seeing him on Tuesdays. It helps a little."

"Oh, no, I haven't." Truth be told, Kiku did not want to speak to anyone. He just wanted to forget this had ever happened, and at the same time, he wanted to hold onto it forever.

"Oh." Feliciano looked at the ground. "Well, maybe think about it?"

"Alright."

Kiku and Feliciano parted ways. Without making the conscious decision to do so, Kiku went to Heracles's old room and closed the door behind him. He could not be sure why he was doing this. Maybe he felt closer to him this way; maybe he just wanted to escape for a few minutes. Whatever the reason was, he did not want to leave, even if it would make him late. Unsure what else to do, Kiku sat on his old bed. For what felt like a very long time, he sat there looking out the window, noticing all the little things.

.

For the first time in his life, Kiku hated the snow.

He had never particularly loved it before, but now that it reminded him of the worst day of his life, the very sight of it made him want to lock himself in his house and never come out. Really, there was hardly anything left that did not somehow remind him of Heracles. Cats, Aristotle, stars, the green eyes of strangers- it all tied back to him. Most of it was pretty easy to avoid…but not the snow. Now that it was Christmas Eve and Kiku was trudging up Roderich's monstrous driveway in the middle of what was almost a blizzard, he was surrounded by it. Surrounded by memories.

The colored lights twinkling in the distance seemed too bright, almost mocking. Kiku was glad there were no stars. He wanted the world around him to be dull, bleak, just so it would match how he felt. He almost considered going back, getting in his car and returning home. There was no doubt it would be easier. But Kiku figured he had already made it this far, and besides, he had made a promise to Feliciano.

A pretty young woman in a green dress greeted Kiku at the door. "Oh, you must be Kiku! I'm Elizabeta, Roderich's fiancé." She looked cheerful enough, but that same sympathy was present in her eyes. Somehow, she must have gotten at least enough of the story. It had been barely two weeks, and Kiku was already beyond tired of that look.

Even so, he attempted something that was almost a smile and shook her hand. Maybe he could not stop himself from feeling pain, but he could damn well pretend things were normal. "Yes, and you are a doctor in intensive care?" he said as he walked inside and removed his coat.

Elizabeta smiled, took his coat and hung it on the rack. "The very same! Hopefully Roderich isn't too much of a pain to work with." Then, she laughed. Kiku tried to do the same, but in the end, he couldn't.

Feliciano was not at the party yet, and neither was Ludwig. With them not being there, Kiku knew next to no one save for the occasional familiar face. He recognized a few as other nurses, the occasional doctor. Matthew was talking to someone rather excitedly on the other side of the room. Christmas music played on a nearby stereo; people were drinking, laughing. Life was happening all around him, yet Kiku felt completely detached from his. After a few moments of standing idly, he somehow managed to find a spot to sit among the crowd. It had barely been five minutes, and he was already exhausted.

Kiku found himself staring at Roderich's Christmas tree. Like everything else in the house, it was huge and beautifully decorated. Kiku didn't even have at tree. December had been far too busy, stressful, life altering and world-destroying of a month to even consider it. He wondered if Heracles would have liked a tree…

"Merry Christmas, Kiku."

Kiku looked up to Matthew standing over him, drink in hand, careful smile playing on his lips. He must have broken away from whoever he was speaking to just to be here. Kiku was not sure whether to be grateful or strangely annoyed. Either way, he said, "Oh, Merry Christmas."

Matthew sat down next to him on the couch and folded his hands in his lap. Even here, he still carried an air of professionalism. "Quite a crowd, huh?"

"It certainly is." Kiku traced a few lines in the arm of the couch. "Mr. Edelstein seems to know quite a few people." It was bleatingly obvious that they were both skirting around the elephant in the room. It was the only thing bigger than the tree.

As if Matthew had read his mind, he sighed and his tight smile fell. "It was really brave of you to come, Kiku. I'm sure it wasn't easy."

It wasn't, but Kiku shrugged dismissively anyway. "I will have to move on sometime." The words sounded ridiculous the moment they reached his own ears. He might as well have said he was ready to move on from breathing.

"Don't be too hard on yourself. It's been a very short amount of time, Kiku. No one is expecting you to be fine right away," said Matthew. "I hope you know that my offer still stands. You can come see me anytime."

Kiku knew that, but at the same time, it seemed irrelevant. He had no idea what he would talk about if he did go. He was certain that he did not want to tell anyone about the way he spent his week off. That was a secret he intended to take to the grave. Beyond that, what else was there to say? Heracles was dead. Kiku was broken. It really was that simple. Then again, he was managing to hold it together as of right now. Maybe he really was getting better; maybe he really was fine…

"There's a quote that hangs in my office. 'Happiness depends upon ourselves.'"

The words were too familiar. Kiku curled his fingers into his hand and swallowed hard. "And who is that quote by?" His voice was dangerously close to being strained.

"Aristotle."

"Oh." Kiku closed his eyes briefly only to be met by the image of Heracles reading similar quotes to him, speaking with such passion, smiling up at him when he was done… The lights on the tree were suddenly blinding, the air too thick, the voices around him ten times louder than they were. Kiku could only whisper. "Excuse me, please."

Before Matthew had any time to respond, Kiku stood up, turned on his heel and walked off to an unknown location. All he knew was he needed to get away- from the party, from other people, from himself…he could not even be sure. He eventually found his escape- a door leading to a patio. For once, the snow falling against his face served as a relief. Once he was able to breathe again, Kiku collapsed into one of the chairs. He closed his eyes, sighed in a puff of white, and tried to leave his own body.

He was so tired of this. His emotions used to make perfect sense to him. He used to have complete control. He used to be a professional. He used to be able to make sense of absolutely everything. Maybe he was quite dull before. Kiku could honestly not tell what was worse: endless monotony, or this.

Roderich had begun to play the piano. Kiku did not open his eyes, did not try to do anything but drown out his conflicted, racing thoughts with the lilting notes of the carols he had heard time and time again. Eventually, it worked. His breathing grew steady along with his heartbeat, and for just a moment, things felt truly okay. It was not until he heard the door creak open that he opened his eyes.

"Mind if I join you?"
Kiku turned around to see Feliciano in a Santa hat, clutching two glasses of wine. Surprisingly, he was not upset that his moment of isolation had been broken. If anything, he was happy to see a familiar, friendly face. And somehow, he knew Feliciano would not be talking his ear off tonight. "Of course, Feliciano. But do you mind the cold?" Kiku quickly realized how strange he must have seemed. After all, it was probably only twenty degrees.

"No, it's pretty hot in there anyway. The cool air feels nice." Feliciano sat down and handed one of the glasses to Kiku, who took it with a thankful nod. For a long moment, they only stared into their glasses and watched the snow melt against the glass. From the other side of the door they could hear talking, laughing, dancing. Kiku glanced inside to see Elizabeta swaying to the song Roderich was playing- Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. Another couple danced beside her, and Matthew had joined the group of people around the piano. Feliciano's quiet voice cut through it all. "Sorry I was late. I was trying to get Lovino to come with me, but…" He stopped speaking. There was no need to explain. "Ludwig should be here soon. Hopefully. He's with his brother."

Kiku nodded. Over the months, he had been able to piece together Ludwig's situation enough to make sense of it. "How are you doing, Feliciano?" This time, he wanted to be the one to ask the question.

Feliciano took a long sip of his wine. "There are good days and bad days. I try to make most of them good days, though. I know that's what nonno would have wanted."

How Feliciano was still smiling throughout all of this, Kiku could not be sure. He supposed he had misjudged him earlier. Despite his tendency to wear his emotions on his sleeve for the world to see, Feliciano really did have a knack for piecing himself together and bouncing back, no matter what.

"How about you, Kiku? I know I pretty much forced you to come here and the timing was really bad, you probably needed more time, I'm really sorry, Matthew was talking to me a minute ago, and…" Feliciano broke out of his rant as if saying too much. He spoke his next words quietly, almost like he was afraid of them. "I know you really miss Heracles."

No one had dared say his name out loud for at least a week… at least around Kiku, that is. Hearing his name spoken out loud struck far deeper than the snow or a quote from a Greek philosopher. Still, Kiku did not break again. He held himself together, and at least part of him believed that Feliciano's presence had something to do with that. Maybe his optimism was contagious. Instead of desperate and frantic, Kiku just felt far away, strangely calm. Before he even realized his mouth had opened, he said, "He could have been a vet, you know."

Feliciano looked up and blinked a few times, his expression blank. "I'm sorry?"

"Heracles." Kiku looked up and stared into the falling snow, not even minding when it clung to his eyelashes and caused his eyes to water. "He could have been a lot of things, really. He could have been a vet like he wanted to be, or a historian, or an author…anything." A strong gust of wind caused Kiku's eyes to water more- at least he told himself that was the cause. He swallowed hard, gave a short sigh that was nearly a humorless laugh. "And he didn't even make it to thirty."

"Oh, Kiku…" Feliciano trailed off. As if he had run out of words for what was possibly the first time, he scooted his chair over until the arms of the two were touching. And that was enough. Kiku felt tears sting his eyes, and he made the decision to go against what he had been doing for months. He let them fall. Feliciano did not speak until almost a full minute later. "I know how you feel, kind of. Roma never got to finish his novel."

It helped, knowing he was not completely alone. Kiku tried to steer the conversation in a lighter direction. "What was it about?"

Feliciano smiled to himself, likely remembering. "It was a fairytale. He would never admit it, but I think he based the princess off of our nonna."

"I am sure it was lovely." Sometimes, that dreaded past tense was just necessary.

"It was." Feliciano almost seemed as though he did not want to talk about it. Seconds after, the door flew open so forcefully it was a miracle it did not fall off the hinges.

They both whipped around simultaneously to see Ludwig standing there, beer in hand, a cross between a scowl and a look of resignation on his face. Without a word, Ludwig slammed the door shut, sat in the chair closest to Feliciano and ripped the bottle cap off with his bare hands. "Merry fucking Christmas."

Kiku had never heard Ludwig curse before, but given all that was happening around him, it was hardly a surprise. Feliciano only had to say one thing. "Gilbert?" His voice was gentle. Even though Ludwig seemed to radiate rage, Feliciano did not hesitate to take his hand. Surprisingly, Ludwig did not resist it.

"Yes," said Ludwig. He took a long drink of his beer. "He just… Gott, they would not even let him out for Christmas. And even if they did, I am not even sure he would want to see me. He hates me. He hates me."

Feliciano shook his head vehemently. "No, Ludwig, he doesn't hate you!"

Kiku stayed silent, and for a long moment, so did Ludwig. Feliciano removed his Santa hat and placed it on Ludwig's head. "I just…" Ludwig patted the hat absent-mindedly. It seemed so out of place and silly for the circumstances. "I don't want to talk about it. Not now."

And that was the unspoken agreement. Even though he had barely said three sentences about him, Kiku could not bring himself to talk about Heracles for a second longer. Feliciano obviously did not want to bring up his grandfather anymore. And now, Ludwig almost seemed as though he wanted to forget his brother existed. Putting all that aside, there was nothing else to talk about. There was no point. So for the rest of the party, the three of them sat together without speaking a word.

Somehow, it helped.

To be continued...