Sebastien trembled. He wanted to say something, but didn't know what. He'd never even entertained the thought that Giovanni might have said that on purpose, he trusted his oldest brother, and despite the way his eldest Brother avoided them, he knew that Giovanni was kind. The trembling spread from his shoulders to his fingers, and even his lower lip was trembling. Sebastien didn't know how to react. Should he be angry? Sad? Should he yell and shout?

But Giovanni looked guilty and broken, like he'd been beating himself up over this already, and Lovino's sharp voice was already speaking on Sebastien's behalf, angry and berating, and he wasn't the only one. Even Feliciano had turned on Giovanni, and for the second time in his life, Sebastien saw Feliciano's hand connect with one of his older brother' cheeks. Giovanni didn't react at all, and Sebastien watched all of this distantly. He didn't know how he should react. He didn't know how to react. He felt chaotic and overwhelmed with emotions, but at the same time, he had a pressing thought he couldn't avoid.

Does it even matter?

Regardless of if he cried or yelled or got angry, it wouldn't change anything. He couldn't undo his childhood. Giovanni couldn't unsay the words, and perhaps, even if he hadn't, Sebastien still would have chosen to keep his condition secret. Matteo's voice broke in over the shouting and scolding and crying, louder than the rest.

"ENOUGH! Stop it! Cant you see you're upsetting Fratello!"

It took Sebastien a moment to realize that the "Fratello" Matteo was mentioning was not Giovanni, but him, and once he did he searched out Matteo's face, hoping to find an answer for a question he didn't even know there. Matteo's face provided an answer, but not the one Sebastien wanted. The youngest brother's face looked eerily similar to that of his three year old self, moments from tears with large round eyes that didn't quite understand but just wanted the shouting to stop. Then, In a moment, Sebastien found his own answer.

He knew he wasn't a "good" older brother, he wouldn't dare to think of himself that optimistically. A part of him thought that he'd learned too much of his own older brothers bad habits through watching and learning from them. But he was an older brother, and Sebastien's instincts reacted just like he always did. He didn't so much as make a conscious decision to jump off the couch and move to Matteo's side, pulling into him into a hug. He only thought that he needed to comfort Matteo, and the next thing he knew he was holding Matteo in his arms. Matteo tried to pull away, but Sebastien whispered to him as comfortngly as he could.

"It's okay, Fratellino, it's okay."

And Matteo suddenly went limp, leaning into Sebastien's arms as he began to cry, just like he had a kid.

"It's not okay." Matteo protested weakly, "Nothing's okay."

Sebastien didn't know what to say to that. Because Matteo was right, nothing was okay, and Sebastien didn't know how to make it okay. He didn't even know if he'd ever known what "okay" was. So instead of responding, he wrapped his arms tighter around Matteo, and for a second, it just just the two of them again, back when Lovino and Giovanni used to fight, When Feliciano only had time for his boyfriend, and no one had time for them, and Sebastien felt like he was just a seven year-old again, trying to be a big brother but not knowing how.

Then someone's warm arms circled both of their shoulders, to Sebastien's surprise, and Feliciano sounded very older-brother-like as he rested his chin on Matteo's head.

"Why are you trying to figure out everything alone?"

Feliciano's attempt at a light-hearted tone didn't quite cover the amount of feelings he put into his words.

"You're not alone, you know, you have us."

Without meaning, Sebastien let his true feelings show. "Had" them? In what way? He didn't understand what Feliciano was trying to say. He'd never had older brothers to rely on, so why was Feliciano acting like he did now? How could he rely on someone who had never helped him before? Sebastien didn't realize he'd said the words out loud until Lovino responded, scowling more than ever.

"How would you know that? You never asked me for anything."

His words were short and harsh, but Sebastien froze under them, remembering. His whole life, he couldn't remember ever asking them for help. When Giovanni had silenced him, he'd given up. When Feliciano had cried, he'd tried to comfort him alone. He'd never asked Lovino for help. When Lovino and Giovanni fought and stormed off, Sebastien had never once asked Feliciano to help him finish making dinner. When Matteo had asked him to help him study for a test, even though Sebastien had his own tests coming up, it had never occurred to him to see if an older brother could help him study. Feliciano piped in.

"Si, you could have asked us for help anytime!"

Sebastien tried to remember the last time he'd asked for help instead of doing it himself or giving up. He had a sinking flashback of a time he was seven, looking for his brothers to ask...Something.... But Giovanni and Lovino had been fighting, Feliciano had been with his boyfriend, and Matteo was asleep. And Sebastien-

Sebastien had suddenly been unable to hear all of it.

He hadn't even gone to Giovanni for help, not really, but more of a sense of "it'll be be better if they know". Sebastien tried to think of a more recent time when he'd asked for help, but he couldn't think of one. Then, his brothers had left, and he didn't have anyone he could ask, even if he wanted to. Sebastien couldnt't even contact his brothers. He hadn't had a phone when Lovino and Feliciano had left. He'd never gotten Giovanni's number in his. He'd never once been contacted by his older brother, even before Giovanni left.

Still, Sebastien was having a strange, trapped feeling, like this all could have been fixed if he'd only asked. Feliciano released both of them, and Feliciano made a small noise that was somehow both hurt and guilty.

"Ah."

Sebastien looked at Feliciano, and his third eldest brother's face looked crumpled and weary like Giovanni's used to look. Feliciano continued his thought in a soft, sad tone.

"You really don't believe that, do you?"

Sebastien looked away. It'd be stranger if he did believe it, he thought. Like a fairy tale that Chris told the kids they babysat, it was just a nice thought, not something real. It wasn't that he meant to look down on his brothers, or thought that if he did ask for help they'd refuse, but more that Sebastian knew they didn't have time for his problems, not when they had enough of their own. It wasn't that he thought he'd be turned down if he'd asked. It was that he'd never felt that there was a good time to do so. The only one he could have asked for help was Matteo, and Sebastien couldn't burden his younger brother like that. He shook his head, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

"It's not that."

He struggled to think of a way to explain without pinning the blame on his brothers, or making it so they would pin the blame on themselves. Sebastien loved his brothers, despite everything, no, perhaps because of everything. He didn't want to upset them any further. Matteo didn't give him a chance. His youngest brother's voice was choked and tight, but also firm and clear, and Sebastien flinched under the words.

"How the hell am I supposed to ask for help when you all have your own problems to deal with? Even if I wanted to I couldn't ask for help from any of you in this situation!"

Matteo's words clearly said exactly what Sebastian had felt. Sebastien felt something in his chest sinking. He finally was understanding why Matteo had left. Maybe he'd never fooled his younger brother, not really. Even if Matteo hadn't known exactly what was wrong, he'd known that something was wrong, and that Sebastien was hiding it. Sebastien felt like something heavy was suffocating him. Feliciano flinched, eyes wide, and Lovino opened and closed his mouth but no sound came out, and Giovanni was crying all over again, tears spilling soundlessly, and for a split second, Sebastien thought it had gone silent again.

But he could still hear Giovanni's sniffles, the rustling of cloth, the rush of wind outside and the crinkle of the tarp that closed off the rest of the house as the wind hit it, the sounds of the house, even in the silence. He could hear Matteo's faint voice.

"Fratello?"

He just wanted everything to be over already. He wanted the drama to end, for them to move on. He wanted Giovanni to go back to ignoring him, back to his happy life in his own house, for Lovino to go back to his Uncle's, for Feliciano to go back to where he was boarding, and for even Matteo to just go back to his apartment.

He just wanted everything to be quiet again, to pretend the fighting didn't exist, that everything was okay, and Giovanni wasn't crying, Lovino didn't look lost and hurt, that Feliciano would stop looking like he'd been slapped. He wanted to pretend that Matteo didn't look like he was regretting his words, like he was scared of how Sebastien would react.

But somehow, he couldn't find the energy to pretend anymore. The house he was clinging to so fiercly was no longer empty, and he wished it was. For the first time, Sebastien became aware of the huge gaping hole in his house, how rickety and unsafe it was, how pointless the tarps were. His eyes fell on his blankets, heaped on the couch, his stuff strewn around the room, piled in the corner, and his clothes piled in the corner. His schoolbooks, still open and homework half-finished, even at a time like this.

It didn't look like his home anymore. Sebastien wasn't sure what it looked like. What has he been trying so desperately to protect? What had he succeeded at protecting? Everything just seemed pointless, suddenly. But every breath in the room seemed to be waiting for his reaction to break the tension, and Sebastien didn't know what to say or do. He'd never felt more tired, ravaged with over-stimulation and emotion. Even his lips couldn't seem to twitch up into his ever-present plastered smile.

"I'm sorry."

That was what he really wanted to say. To apologize to Giovanni for causing him trouble, to Lovino and Feliciano for his self-centered refusal to rely on them, and to Matteo for making his younger brother feel the same way he had. But Sebastien had learned that honest words were heavy, and his heart felt like lead, and even his breaths felt heavy. So he added another statement to cover his true meaning.

"It's late and I'm tired. Can we finish this tomorrow?"

He didn't wait for a response, he didn't want to hear it. He simply made his way to the bathroom, pretending not to hear the reaction behind him. No, maybe it was too loud for him to hear anything. When he got back to the family room, Giovanni was gathering Sebastien's clothes into a bag. Sebastien froze.

"What are you doing?"

Giovanni just gave Sebastien a look, as though Sebastien had asked something dumb. Lovino, eyes suspiciously red, huffed an answer with his arms crossed.

"You can't actually mean to stay here. The house will probably collapse and kill you in your sleep, and you probably won't even hear it coming!"

Giovanni, seeming satisfied that the issue was explained, turned to Feliciano.

"Do you see a phone charger?"

Feliciano tossed the charger to him with an obviously forced cheerfulness.

"Here's one!"

Sebastien was still frozen. How could they accept it so easily? This was where they made all of their memories, where they grew up together. Everything they knew was in this house, but even Matteo was helping pack, retrieving Sebastien's toothbrush from the bathroom. He felt bewildered and lost. A part of him still protested that there was never any reason to try, but even still, years of emotions couldn't be chased away so easily, and he rejected the concept, staring down Lovino in defiance.

"This is my home !"

Lovino looked flustered, not expecting the harsh denial.

"But it's literally falling apart, Fratello?"

And Sebastien finally understood what he'd been missing. It wasn't a home to them. To Lovino, it'd been a place he escaped, and to Feliciano, a place he was forced to leave. Both of them had already been away so long it probably no longer felt like a "home" at all. For Giovanni, it had been nothing but a cage. They didn't have the same attachment he had to his home. He wondered if they had also forgotten the good memories that they once had there. Or maybe, they'd never considered the memories "good" at all.

He felt something hot and hard in his throat, and his face felt uncomfortably hot and prickly. He had barely been able to hear his own words in protest, a timid and breaking tone he didn't recognize as his own voice, weak and stumbling.

"But.. but It's our home?"

Lovino's expression remained blankly bemused. He looked to Feliciano, then Giovanni, and finally, even Matteo for help. He couldn't find any understanding in his sibling's faces. Sebastien found the last thing that was holding him together begin to shatter. A heavy, overwhelming anger, welled up from where he'd always tramped it down deep within. It was anger that made him want to spit nasty words. And Sebastien came close, but at the last moment, just like always, he bit back his words, but the anger didn't go away.

Giovanni, who had finished packing Sebastien's bag, and faltered upon seeing an expression he didn't recognize on his second youngest brother's face. Sebastien felt more angry towards his brothers because of this than anything else they'd done. Even if they ignored him and Matteo, even if they made him feel alone and scared, even if Giovanni had made him feel like he had to bear it alone, none of it made him as angry as this. The one thing Sebastien had tried to protect more than anything and they were abandoning it like it was trash. Like their home really and truly meant nothing to them.

With a sharp move, Sebastien grabbed his bag, ignoring the deafening silence that fell around him as he spat the angry words, short and sharp.

"I'll stay with Chris."

Then, without warning or waiting for their reactions, Sebastien stomped out.

Chris, to Sebastien's surprise, did not look surprised to see Sebstien on his Doorstep. Or rather, he almost suspected that Chris had expected it, especially when he saw that the pull-out couch had already been set up for a guest. Sebastien hadn't asked, though, and Chris hadn't offered. There had been almost no words exchanged, Chris barely taking time to tell Sebastien to sleep on the couch and not touch anything, then Chris had stomped upstairs and slammed the door, although he was angry at something, but at the very least Sebastien knew his friend enough to know it wasn't him that Chris was mad at.

There was something comforting about the loudness of the decorations in Chris's house, from the painting of a bald eagle staring piercingly at him from across the room, to the American flag design on the mug left on the counter, even to the very American-like barbeque cookbook on the table. It took Sebastien a moment to figure out exactly why that was. Then his eyes fell upon a picture of Chris and his older brother, Alfred. A candid shot where they were grinning at each other as though in the middle of teasing each other.

Then, in just a second, Sebastien figured out what it was. It felt like a "home" and not just a house. It felt loved. And finally, finally, the thing inside him that was holding him together for all these years cracked. He choked on the unfamiliar feeling as the sob escaped, and he fought to keep it back, but once the first slipped out, it was easier for a second sob to follow it, then a third, and suddenly Sebastien was crying in a way he didn't remember doing since Matteo left.

Somehow it felt twice as real - no, the pain of Matteo leaving was closer to "surreal" , and this new unease felt like it was "real". Sebastien didn't know how to deal with this new pain. Rationally, he knew that this was not the place or time to have a break down, on the pullout couch in his friend's home only a few minutes before midnight, but Sebastien's pent up and abused emotions weren't something he could control rationally. Instead, he buried his face into the guest sheets and tried to muffle his raking sobs.

It felt like he was trying to expell something deep in chest that didn't want to come out, and each sob was a painful force, and by the time he began to get it under control, Sebastien felt like he'd been run over by a bus. His throat, eyes, head, and chest all ached from the force of his sobs, and he'd comforted Matteo ofter his own break-downs enough in the past to know his face probably looked as bad as he felt, white and pale under unhealthy red blotches. He tried to regulate his breathing with as deep and even breathes he could take.

He didn't notice that his hearing had come back until he heard the creak of a floorboard and the awkward half-cough behind him. Then he registered what that meant. Chris stood somewhat off to the side, looking uncomfortably, but just shoved a steaming mug vaguely in Sebastien's direction, and automatically his hands closed around the mug.

Immediately he felt a mix of shame and guilt. He was always the good one, never caused trouble, didn't selfishly cry or complain, so why now, in the house of someone who had only barely passed the line between co-worker to friend? He wiped his face on his sleeve, trying to collect himself.

"It's milk 'n' honey." Chris mumbled gruffly, not meeting Sebastien's face, "My brother used to make it for me when I was little when I got upset."

Sebastiend forgot his shame at being caught so embarrassingly, eyes dropping to the mysterious drink. Italians prefered wine, of course, and he'd often slipped Matteo some when they were young after a bad nightmare or a toothache. But it'd been a long time since someone had done something of the sort for Sebastien, and he felt his heart plummeting at the thought.

Chris shifted, and Sebastien peeked at him out of the corner of his eyes. Chris had an unusually stoic expression, like he was trying hard to hide his emotions, as he sipped his own mug.

"So are you going to tell me?"

Chris spar the words out awkwardly, like they offended him, and Sebastien flinched. Chris flinched too, in response, and tried to backtrack with wide eyes.

"I mean, 'snot like ya have to. Just if you wanted to!"

For a moment, Sebastien was suffocating. He couldn't say anything, he couldn't cause trouble, he'd told his family and everything fell apart, and he couldn't tell Chris, or else-

Why couldn't he? He'd already caused Chris trouble, he'd already messed up his family and disappointed his brother's. Chris wasn't even related to him and was barely past the relationship of co-worker. What could he lose at this point that he hadn't already lost? It was like a sudden shocking gasp of fresh air to Sebastien. He'd never had anyone he could talk to, no one he could let himself depend on, but right here, right now...

He knew it was probably just wishful thinking putting a silver lining in the clouds, but for once, he was tired of pretending and lying and trying all on his own. So even though he knew he'd regret it, Sebastien opened his mouth, and let everything spill out. He didn't know how long he talked while Chris quietly listened. It felt too short for the incredible amount of things he wanted to say, but he somehow got the impression that he'd talked for quite a long time by the time he finished, ending his story with why he'd run to Chris's house that night.

Throughout the whole story, Chris didn't say a word, though he did make the appropriate noise of shock at certain places. When Sebastien stopped talking, Chris spoke for the first time, accidentally abandoning his tough guy act as he reveals his true shocked tone.

"Are you an idiot?"

Sebastien jerked his gaze from his clasped hands yo Chris's face, shocked at the unexpected words. Chris was wearing a familiar look of complete flabbergastion, one he usually wore when Peter, one of the kids they watched, started talking. Sebastien stared in his own confusion. After all that he said, that was all Chris had to say? Sebastien knew he'd done a lot of stupid things, and made bad choices, still, he felt that this answer was unfair. Just as he was studying Chris's face, Chris was also studying his, and Chris's expression shifted into something else, and Chris shook his head, reiterating his question as a statement.

"You are an idiot."

Sebastien felt wronged.

"That-"

Chris cut him off.

"Do you even hear what you're whining about? You want more of your brother's attention? You want to complain and depend on them? You want to get your family back? And that nonsense about not wanting to tell them because they're already stressed?"

Chris's voice was unexpected rough, like he was fighting back tears, and his tone didn't quite seem to come out angry, but a different emotion that Sebastien couldn't identify. He knew he was staring at Chris like he was an alien, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the strange expression Chris wore. His blank stare only seemed to make Chris angrier.

"What bullshit it that? If you want their attention, make them give it to you! If you want, go and drag them back by their ears! Complain and whine if you want too! Who cares if you're being greedy? That's what a little brother is supposed to do! What are you scared of? It sounds to me like everything you're scared of has already happened!"

Sebastien felt chills in his blood and running down his back. Chris was right. Everything he'd been so scared to lose, or upset, all of it had happened anyways. So what... What had he even managed to protect all this time? Had he just made everything worse? If he'd done something differently would things have been better? But he didn't even know what he should have done, where he should have started. Chris didn't give him time to consider it, spitting out everything he'd held himself from saying when Sebastien had been telling the story.

"And what if you fight! Do you know how often Alfred and I fight? He comes in my house whenever he wants and goes through my stuff and eats my food, he's always off doing whatever he feels like and he just decides that he's right no matter the situation and sometimes he sulks around in a terrible mood and doesn't want to talk to me about anything! But d'ya know what? "

Chris suddenly stopped to catch his breath, and when he continued, it was in a softer tone.

"No matter what, Alfred's never turned me away if I ask for help, or want to talk. Even if he's in a crappy mood, he'll still let me talk shit about people at work, or school or whatever, and even if he doesn't offer advice, just him listening makes it better, and then I'll listen to him rant, and we'll go play ball to let off steam and then eventually, that thing I was upset about doesn't even seem like a problem. "

Chris took a deep steadying breath, brushing his bangs back from his forehead, and Sebastien watched, enthralled. Chris sighed deeply, and looked Sebastien directly in the eyes as he finished.

" What I'm saying is, if you don't ask for help, how're they supposed to know you need it? And if ya don't depend on them, how're they supposed ta depend on you?"

Slowly, surely, Sebastien began to understand the thing he'd been missing this whole time.

"How the hell am I supposed to ask for help when you all have your own problems to deal with? Even if I wanted to I couldn't ask for help from any of you in this situation!"

What Matteo has said earlier. His own sentiments. Giovanni's tortured expression and Lovino's scowl. The reason why Lovino left all those years ago and Why he could never comfort Feliciano when he cried. The youngest who tried to sleep through the arguments and the eldest who hid from them.

Sebastien began to understand that he'd never understood. Why Giovanni had hid in his room, Why Lovino shouted and Feliciano ignored his family in favor of his boyfriend, the reason that Matteo could sleep through the fighting. He'd never thought about the "why" for any of it. Perhaps they'd also all been like him, suffocating in a place where they couldn't ask for help.

Did Giovanni hide because he found taking care of his family overwhelming, with no one to ask for guidance or help? Why hadn't he reached out to a relative or an uncle for help? Did Lovino always shout because it was the only way he could get a reaction from their withdrawn oldest brother? Did Feliciano run to the arms of someone he knew would listen? Had Matteo slept though it because he'd never know anything else. Had the youngest brother never learned there was another version of their family from the start?

Had he ever learned to see them, the family that played and teased and ate together, the eldest that gathered them all into a room when they were kids and read them stories is out loud before bed so they could all enjoy them together, the Second Eldest that taught them how to stand up to bullies and when to stop pulling punches and how to fight back? The third eldest that taught Sebastien how to cook, who seemed to improve even recipes passed down through the families for ages, even Giovanni and Lovino's own recipes? Had Mateo ever known how they'd gather round his crib while he slept, and slip their finger into his tiny hand just to feel the miracle of the tiny grip closing around it, or the sense of wonder it brought?

Sebastien wondered just what kind of family their youngest had known, and why he'd learned to love them. He wondered just how little each of them knew of each other, how much they just pretended to know. Sebastien wanted to know who his brothers really were, why they did what they did, how they thought and felt. Chris was looking at him in concern, but Sebastien could only chuckle mirthlessly at his self.

"I really am an idiot, huh?"

Chris relaxed at his words, like his tension was flowing out, and responded in his usual snarky way.

"Good that you know that. Now what are you going to do about it?"

"Talk to my brothers."

Sebastien didn't say the words out loud, but somehow he felt that Chris already knew. It was a strange concept to Sebastian, that Chris, who only earlier that night, he'd barely considered more than a co-worker, had just as quickly became someone he considered a true friend. Chris flinched at the look Sebastien was giving him, completed reverted to his usual rough-mouthed self.

"What? You want me to beat you up? Go to sleep already, it's like two in the morning!"

It wasn't so much something Sebastien thought through, as a combination of Italian openess and genuine gratitude, but Sebastien slid off of the bedsheets and caught Chris in a tight hug in only a moment, repeating a single refrain of one word.

"Gracias."

Chris, someone who held and respected the popular American concept of a "personal bubble" did not react touchingly.

"What the hell are you doing? Get off me! You're all gross and snotty!"

Sebastien only grinned at the rejection, uttering one last "Gracias" before darting to the bathroom to clean up. Chris was reheating the milk when Sebastien came back, and he accepted the drink eagerly, dehydrated from his tears. It was warm and sweet and soothing, though he wasn't used to it he thought he could grow used to it. Chris, tired and cranky and satisfied his job was done, started to leave.

"Put the mug in the sink when you're done. I'm goin' to bed."

Sebastien set his cup on the counter and clung to Chris's arm.

"Wait! Please sleep with me tonight!"

Chris reacted with a disgusted expression.

"Why the hell would I do that? No way in hell!"

"Please!"

"No, means no! You're sixteen, sleep by yourself!"

"You said I should be more greedy!"

"I meant towards your brothers, not me!"

It was a self-centered argument full of selfish wishes and no deep emotions behind it that he'd never experienced before, and for the first time he thought he understood what Chris had said about arguing with his brother, or why Wendy always bickered with her older brothers. He hadn't realized fighting could be fun as well. Sebastien thought that he'd like to one day show this kind of bickering to his brothers too, the sort of comforting atmosphere where he wouldn't feel stuffy and afraid when they fought, where even Lovino's shouts wouldn't feel hostile and Feliciano wouldn't cry.

Maybe, that's why Sebastien had such a pleasant dream about a time so long ago when he fell asleep.

"Vanni!"

Lovino's voice, if Lovino was only nine years old again.

"Shh!"

A voice that didn't recognize, but knew was Giovanni anyways, cracking like he was hitting puberty.

"You'll wake him up, Lovi!"

"You'll wake him up first if you keep taking pictures!"

Somehow Sebastien knew he was only four again. Of course, in his Dream, Sebastien was awake, but for some reason felt he should pretend to be asleep anyways. Beside him, something shifted, a hot breath on his cheek, and he squinted on eye open to see the offender- a version of Matteo he could only see in pictures these days, only two years old and new to their family. One of Matteo chubby hands was clinging tightly to Sebastien's ear, something he'd forgotten that Matteo used to do when he slept.

"But Lovi! Look how cute they are! The fell asleep together!"

Lovino's response was softer than Lovino ever spoke these days, before he'd learned to be thorny.

"Feli used to do that too, grab onto me when we were sleeping." Lovino paused, then added in slight grumble, "Still does."

"Hmm? Yes?"

Seven year old Feliciano appeared, hearing his name called, and then promptly noticed the two youngest.

"Me too! I also want a siesta!"

He clambered into the bed too before his older brothers could stop him, then pulled Lovino in too.

"Hey wait!" Lovino protested, but Mateo's hand wandered from Sebastien's ear to find Lovino, and Lovino stilled, trying not to wake him. Giovanni surveyed them from above, sounding approving.

"That's right! All you kids should take a siesta!"

Lovino frowned, aiming a kick at Giovanni that caused the eldest to tumble into bed.

"What "you kids"? Just cause you're thirteen now doesn't make you a grown-up! "

"Shhhh!" Feliciano hissed," You'll wake them up!"

There was no way Sebastien would ever be able to sleep through that like Matteo, but he stayed still anyways, enjoying the quiet bickering of his brothers. Giovanni shifted as though to get up, and Sebastien played a sneaky trick, grabbing his brother's sleeve tightly like he was moving in his sleep like Mateo. It was something he could do because he was the baby of the family, because he knew his brother's would melt towards him, no matter how sly he was being, but as a child, he didn't feel guilty for it at all, especially as Giovanni gave up and settled in too.

One by one, he heard his brothers' breathing even out as they drifted off, and just as he started to drift off himself, he heard a creak at the door, and a presence he barely remembered placing a large and warm hand on their heads one by one, finally settling one hand on Sebastien's head and one on Mateo's, and a husky voice whispering words full of such love and comfort something inside Sebastien wiggled gleefully.

Ah, my little Bambinos, all of you are so cute. I love you all so much."

A sudden absence of the hand, but a lingering warmth left behind that felt comforting and safe. A click of a camera, then footsteps, and then nothing as Sebastien sank into a deep sleep.

When he woke up the next morning afternoon, Chris was gone, leaving a note to take the sheets off the pullout bed and he'd wash them and lock the door on his way out.

"By the way" the noted added, "You're not staying here tonight so you'd better make up with your brothers."

It was Chris's way of encouraging him and telling him to fix things with his family. He was sure Chris wouldn't actually turn him away if he went back there again that night, but he also felt like that wouldn't happen. Somehow, even though his head and throat still ached from his crying, he felt better after crying than before, and also somewhat refreshed. He felt like he could finally do what he should have done a long time ago, and properly talk to his brothers.


Eldest Brother, Giovanni = Vatican City
Second Eldest, Lovino = Romano, South Italy
Third Eldest, Feliciano = Veniciano, North Italy
Second Youngest, Sebastien = Seborga
Youngest Brother, Matteo = San Marino