He was seven when it first happened. The house was a chaotic mess of voices, his eldest and second oldest brothers arguing loudly upstairs, his youngest brother softly snoring as he slept sprawled across the family room floor, hoarding the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window like a lazy cat, oblivious to the third eldest, and the brother closest to his own age, as he flirted with his boyfriend(?) on the front step. It had been a normal day to the most part. Sebastian had been looking for his brothers to ask for something, something so trivial that he couldn't even remember, even years after, or maybe it was simply trivial compared to what happened next.

He remembered an overwhelming feeling of the noise, the shouting from his older brothers that made him feel anxious, though he couldn't say why -he loved his older brothers and he knew they'd never hurt him- that and the sound of his foolish third eldest brother who didn't have any attention to spare towards his own family, not when the person he loved was so close by, and even the soft and barely audible snoring of his youngest brother, not yet old enough to understand the suffocating aloneness of the cacophony of noises in the family.

Then, just as suddenly, he hadn't been able to hear anything. It was as though the entire world had pushed the mute button, and though he knew the sounds were still happening, he couldn't hear anything except a rushing sound in his ears, his blood pumping through his veins. He couldn't hear the sound of his youngest brother's soft breathing, or the rustle of his own clothes as he moved, and his first thought was relief. It was quiet, finally. There was no shouting, no twittering about, no ignorant snoring, nothing but peace and quiet.

Right after that, the implications sunk in, and Sebastian went directly from calm to fear. He'd opened his mouth, ready to scream, or cry, but his youngest brother shifted in his sleep, and Matteo's hand brushed his leg, and the scream choked in his throat. The deathly quiet in his ears was terrifying, but he knew he couldn't scream. Mateo, his youngest brother of only five was sleeping, so innocently unaware to the chaos around him, and Sebastien couldn't make himself ruin that.

So he shut his mouth tightly, quietly got to his feet, and called his third brother in from outside, asking him to take care of Matteo, and reluctantly, Feliciano bid goodbye to his boyfriend and came inside, and Sebastian ran to his room, closing the door and hiding in the corner between his bed and the dresser, waiting for the noisy world to come back to him.

He'd drifted off, and when he'd awoken, it had been to his second eldest brother snapping at Feliciano for whatever his third brother had done then, and Sebastien had relaxed, thinking that maybe it was all just a bad dream.

But it wasn't, and it happened again when he was eight. This time he remembered the situation before it had happened. It had started with his third brother, Feliciano. His boyfriend had been in an accident, though Sebastien didn't know all the details, he knew it was a big deal, and that his brother's boyfriend had been rushed away in an ambulance, and hadn't come back. Feliciano had cried, a lot. His boyfriend hadn't come back in the weeks that followed either In fact, his boyfriend's whole family had moved away to Germany, and Feliciano only cried harder at that.

In fact, it seemed like all he did in the following days was cry. Matteo, the youngest, cried too, if only because he didn't like that his big brother was upset. Then the shouting began again, like it always did. His eldest brother began to hid away from the tears in his bedroom all the time, and the second eldest slowly transitioned from awkward shoulder pats and hugs to scoldings that were meant as encouragement but didn't quite come out that way.

"He's gone! Crying won't make him come back, and he wouldn't want you to snivel around all day either, stupid Fratello!"

Lovino's sharp words had gone right through Sebastien, who was trying his best to melt into a wall as Matteo screwed up his face as though he was about to cry too. Then, for the first time in his life, Sebastien heard his kind, gentle, second eldest brother shout with anger, his hand coming up to meet Lovino's cheek in a slap. Then he heard nothing at all.

There was no faint echoing, no muffled shouting like he'd seen in the movies, just the faint shhhhh sound of blood flowing through the veins in his ears. And Sebastien froze. It wasn't a nightmare. It was real. The thing that happened when he was seven was happening again. He thought he should say something, that he should tell his brothers, but Matteo had started sobbing next to him, and though Sebastien couldn't hear the sobs, he could see his six year old brother's shoulders shaking and the tears rolling down his cheeks.

Then there was a grip on his shoulder, tight and angry, and he whirled to see Lovino, grabbing his shoulder and speaking angrily. And again, there was no noise, but Lovino was gesturing, and Sebastien knew what his brother well enough to know what Lovino was asking him to do. His hearing could wait. He gathered up his youngest brother in his arms and took him out the back yard, down to the edge of the property where the barest amount of water trickled through like a tiny stream.

Sebastien liked it there, far enough from the house he couldn't hear the raised voices, a comforting tricky of water over rocks and whatever else lined the bottom of the tiny creek. But that day, he couldn't hear even the creek he loved so much. Matteo could, though, and slowly his sobs turned to hiccups, and he reached his hands towards the water and dipped his fingers in the coolness of the water. Sebastien didn't remember what he'd said to calm his brother, the strangeness of feeling his voice vibrate but not hearing his own words overwhelming him to the point he didn't know what he said.

When he heard the sound of the creek again, Matteo was staring up at him in awe, like he was enthralled by a good story, but whatever Sebastien had been saying came to a halt with the sudden return of the sounds he loved of the running water, wind in the grass, and his younger brother's little voice excitedly urging him to continue. He'd smiled weakly, and told Matteo he'd continue another time, and led his brother back into the house, where there were no older brothers left to be seen, just the messy remains of a meal halfway through being made, half sliced pasta noodles sitting amongst a mess of flour and dropped utensils, and a suspicious red spot on the wall sticky with tomatoes seeds and juice, like a tomato aimed at someone's head had missed.

At the age of eight, Sebastien made his first pasta dinner all by himself while his youngest brother watched, finishing what his older brother's had started, and then are the meal alone in a too-silent house with his youngest brother. Even Matteo didn't try to break the silence, but Sebastien could hear the scraping of forks on the plate and the sound of chewing and breathing and a thousand small noises, and he knew this silence wasn't something he could blame on his ears.

It happened more often after that. Sometimes he'd be able to predict it was going to happen and disappear, like during fights among his brothers, or when his eldest brother slammed open the door and stormed through the house directly to his room and slammed the door. Sometimes it came with no warning at all - shopping with Feliciano for pasta, watching TV, having a tickle fight with Matteo. But Sebastien hadn't told anyone. He hadn't been able too.

The third time it happened, he'd waited till it was over and then gone to his eldest brother's room, thinking that Giovanni would know what to do. His brother opened the door tensely, then relaxed, seeing who it was and invited him in. They'd made small talk while Sebastien tried to work up the courage to tell his older brother, and they'd talked about school, about the painting he'd done the other day, about how highschool was for his brother. They didn't talk about their home life. Then, finally, just when he was about to blurt it all out, Giovanni's warm hand fell on his head and ruffled his curls with a sigh.

"Your fratellos are all so troublesome." Giovanni had sighed. "Sebastien, you're the only one who doesn't cause me trouble."

And suddenly he hadn't been able to say anything, and could only give his best fake smile to his older brother, seeing for the first time the dark circles under his brother's eyes and tired lines in his forehead.

When Sebastien was ten and Lovino was fifteen, Lovino had fought with Giovanni and stormed off, and it happened again. But by this point, Sebastien was used to it, and had learned to read lips quite well by this point. He'd watched Lovino angrily stand on the doorstep and announce he was leaving, and he'd seen the words leave Giovanni's soundless lips.

"If you leave now, then don't come back!"

And Lovino hadn't. He'd stayed instead with one of their Uncles, one Sebastien only knew from foggy memories. Giovanni had locked himself in his room and didn't come back out. Matteo had been napping, something Sebastien had never understood how he was able to do, sleeping without waking at the voices.

Feliciano, only twelve years himself, had stood trembling in the kitchen, looking between the doorstep Lovino disappeared from and the stairway his oldest brother had stormed up, and Sebastien didn't need to be able to hear to know the sound of the question he saw fall shakily from Feliciano's lips.

"Fratello?"

Feliciano had stood in the kitchen for hours a day after that, waiting for Lovino to come back. Lovino never did. The man who came was a tall and tanned man with eyes similar enough to match Lovino and Sebastien that he knew they were related, with a smile that didn't quite hide the tension coiled in his muscles. He'd come to get Lovino's clothes, and Sebastien's world went silent again.

Silently, he'd helped Feliciano pack Lovino's clothes and belongings away. Feliciano had cried a lot, and the man who called himself "Uncle Antonio" had pulled them both into a warm hug to comfort them, and Sebastien could feel the vibrating of Antonio's chest and knew that the man was speaking to him, but he couldn't see his lips to see what he was saying. Sebastien couldn't remember the last time he'd been hugged like that, or when he'd felt so comforted.

When Antonio broke the hug, Sebastien almost cried, but Feliciano was just barely finishing wiping his tears away, and Matteo was standing in the doorway staring with wide green eyes at the strange man with the deep rumbling tone and playful face. So he didn't cry. Antonio picked Matteo up and swung him around, and Matteo giggled and Sebastien heard it, and he knew he could hear again.

The whole time Giovanni did not leave his room, but Sebastien was sure he knew Antonio was there. Antonio had gathered up the bags, bid them goodbye, and promised to visit often, and left with Lovino's stuff. Sebastien didn't see him again until many years had passed.

Only a month later, Giovanni sent Feliciano to board wth a relative of Feliciano's boyfriend's family. He hadn't asked Feliciano if he wanted to go. Feliciano hadn't protested either. Sebastien still knew his brother didn't want to leave. When he and Matteo stood at the window and waved goodbye to Feliciano as Giovanni put his stuff in the car, everything was silent.

It stayed silent for a very long time, and didn't become noisy till long after Giovanni crept back in after midnight, having been out all day in a place that Sebastien didn't know, and long after Matteo woke up early the next morning to sit and cry alone in Lovino and Feliciano's empty shared room.

When Sebastian turned fifteen, Giovanni told him he was old enough to take care of himself and Matteo, and moved out. He'd been preparing for weeks, moving his clothes and belongings out bit by bit, and so all he had left to bring with him was a single backpack when he left. Sebastien older brother looked a lot older than twenty-four as he hugged both his younger brothers goodbye and got in the car, but Sebastien saw a glow in his oldest brother's eyes that hadn't been their before, like Giovanni wasn't running away like Lovino, but running towards some happy future that Sebastien didn't know.

Matteo had been stiff and angry when Giovanni hugged him, then tore away and ran inside, but Sebastien couldn't be angry, not when Giovanni's face was shining more than it had for many, many, years.

"Stay safe, my Fratellino, take care of youngest."

Giovanni had ruffled Sebastien's hair as he said that, laughing a little with excitement, and Sebastien couldn't hear his answer as he responded.

"Si."

Giovanni regarded him with a sidelong look, forehead creased with a little concern, and Sebastien saw his words clearly on his lips.

"You've always been a good Fratello. Never caused me any stress, unlike your grande Fratellos."

Sebastien hadn't been able to feel proud of that, and only made a small little smile. Giovanni had blinked at that, and looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end all he did was shake his head and turn away, leaving Sebastien feeling the absence of a large, warm hand in his hair. Sebastien wasn't sure if he regretted it, or was glad that he couldn't hear the sound of Giovanni's tires crunching over the gravel as he drove away.

Sebastien would rather have not celebrated his birthday at all than received a birthday present like that.

After Giovanni left, Matteo changed. He'd always been clingy, always wanting to be hugged as a child, and wanting attention as he grew older, and Sebastien had always been the one who gave it too him, but now Matteo was quiet, and didn't want to talk. He avoided Sebastien when they were home together, and made excuses to not be there when Sebastien got home from school.

And suddenly their crazy, chaotic, noisy house was silent. The silence of an empty house was worse than the silence that Sebastien had learned to get used to. Sometimes he'd sit on the sofa in the Family room and cover his ears to block out the sound of the dripping tap, the scratching if outside branches against the walls of the house, little noises like mice in the walls - noises he hadn't been able to hear before over the sounds of his siblings. On days he was lucky, he'd pull his hands away from his ears and hear nothing at all. On days when he wasn't lucky, the quiet noises seemed overpowering, and he'd bite his lip to keep from screaming as loud as he could to cover the noises.

On Matteo's fourteenth birthday, his younger brother never came home. He'd been gone when Sebastien left at seven for school, and hadn't been there when he got back from school to decorate. He hadn't come home when Sebastien had finished making his favourite pasta dish, nidi di rondine, or when he set the table and put the candles in the cake, ready to light. He hadn't come home when midnight struck, and the vibrating of the clock shook loose one end of the streamer on the wall, and it fell sadly to the floor among drifting balloons, and Sebastian had finally moved from the table where he'd been sitting in the dark, chased the flies from the pasta and wrapped it in plastic wrap and put it in the fridge.

Sebastien wondered if it was really that quiet, as he pulled the fourteen candles from the cake one by one with shaking fingers, or if once again, the world was just quiet for him. Matteo didn't respond to any of the texts or voicemails that Sebastien had left that night till afternoon the next day, and his response had been vague, saying that he was out doing things and hadn't been able to come back home. Sebastien had texted him that he'd leave the cake and Matteo's favorite meal in the fridge for him next time he came home. Four days later, Sebastien scraped the stale and expired pasta into the trash, and took the cake to school to share among his classmates.

A week later, Matteo texted him that he'd gotten an apartment with the help of a relative who was visiting from France. When Sebastien had run to Matteo's room, he'd found it completely empty, with the finest layer of dust on the bookshelves that told Sebastien more that Matteo ever would. Matteo had already left before his birthday ever came. Sebastien wondered how he hadn't noticed. He wondered if he was more like his older brothers than he'd noticed. More than he cared to be. For the first time since he was quite young, Sebastien cried. There was no one left to see him, no one to be careful of. Matteo's room was incredibly silent that day, and Sebastien fell asleep on the bare mattress soaked with his tears.

Shortly after, Sebastien got a job as a babysitter for kids whose families weren't able to take care of them after school. He didn't really need to work, he knew. They had a lot of money, they always had, and they'd never really spent a lot growing up. They lived in a sturdy, but normal sized house, big enough to fit them all, and ate like normal people. Sebastien knew they weren't normal though. Thing that other kids had, he'd wanted, and but they'd never wanted for things some kids needed, like food, clothes, or anything money could buy.

They were spoiled rich kids that made-believe at being normal, and even now, Sebastien knew the fortune left to them by their Grandpa was nowhere near low. Giovanni still sent him and Matteo an allowance for clothes and food and whatever else they might want as well, part from their bank, part from his own savings. None of them had ever needed a job. Sebastien still choose to work.

At work, the world never went silent for him. He could always hear the excited calls of the kids he babysat, from the excitable and warm voice of Peter, to the haughty but also timidly hopeful voice of Wendi. He could always hear the loud voices of Lars and Peter when the half-brothers engaged in fake sword fights with loud laughing, and the quiet mumble of Luca, and even the flustered and rough work of the other teenager who worked with him, a 17 year old boy named Chris.

It was a different kind of noise than the one Sebastien was used to. The noise had his house had always be shape and angry, or punctuated by crying. This noise reminded him of the creek behind their house, a flowing and happily noise that bubbled with playful shouts and the sound of laughter like the trickle of water over smooth rocks. He liked the way that even Lars and Peter's shouts were filled with laughter, the way that Wendy argued with her older brother Liam who came to pick her up with a smile still pulling at her lips, the playful banter between Liam and Chris, and even the peacefulness in Luca's silence as he painted.

It almost made the silence unbearable at the end of the day when he went home.

On his seventeenth Birthday, Sebastien didn't celebrate it. A card came for him in the mail from Giovanni, like it did every year, and that was it. There was no text from Matteo, and he hadn't heard from Lovino or Feliciano since they'd left, many years ago. He ate his dinner of leftovers in silence, washed his dishes in silence, showered and went to bed in silence. If the clock chimed at midnight, signifying the end of his first birthday alone, it was also silent for Sebastien.

After that, Sebastien found that it was silent more frequently. Once a child rammed into the back of his leg while shopping, because he didn't hear the child's shout. Several times, he almost got hit by a car because he didn't hear the horn. Many times he didn't hear what the teacher said during classes. Somehow, he found he didn't care. He wasn't grateful for the silence anymore, but he wasn't scare of it. It just was, like breathing, or sneezing. He was used to it.

The first time that Sebastien realized something might be really wrong with him was when a big storm hit. It was a storm with winds like he'd rarely seen before, and the trees shook and the house creaked, and then everything went silent when Sebastien began to study. Then what he thought was an earthquake hit, the whole house shook, and there was a tremendous shaking, and his chair fell backwards, and he lost consciousness suddenly. When he woke up, he could hear the howling of the wind and the splintering of wood, and the very loud presence of the outside coming in.

It didn't take him long to find out why. A large tree had fallen and crashed directly through the house, destroying Lovino and Feliciano's old room and taking out a portion of the wall from Matteo's and a part of the roof over his. There was a piece of shingle laying next to his head, just inches away. And in a moment, Sebastien realize that his childhood home was ruined, and everything was gone. Matteo could never come home and sleep in his room again. Lovino and Feliciano didn't have a room to go back to either. Sebastien's home, his only home, his memories and ridiculous dreams of his family, all of it was gone.

With that knowledge, the silence came back, the same silence that had made him oblivious to the sound of a tree about to break, a tree that could have killed him if it had fallen even slightly more to his side instead of towards Matteo's room. But Sebastien didn't care. He remembered standing up, dusting off his clothes, mechanically gathering his school boo and gathering everything he could take out of his room and walking out of his room.

He remembered Standing at the foot of the stairs and thinking about the only bedroom still intact in the house, Giovanni's empty bedroom on the second floor. He remembered deciding that was too dangerous, and moving his stuff into the family room, the furthest room from the damage. He remembered a vague sense of multiple trips to clear out his room, and he remembered a foggy memory of throwing his blankets and pillow on the couch, and sleeping there. He didn't remember being afraid or worrying at all. He didn't remember if it was silent or not when he fell asleep.

The storm ended in three days, and though Wendi, Peter and Lars were staying home with their family, Luca was an exchange student there living with a host family, and his family had requested for his services. He'd dressed blankly in silence, and made a breakfast from whatever was in the fridge, which was miraculously still running as somehow only one of the solar powers was damaged. Then he'd left to pick up Luca from the woman he was staying with.

Elizabeta had answered the door looking stressed and apologetic with a thousand excuses on why she wasn't abandoning him, but she was part of a construction crew and there was naturally a lot of work. Sebastien nodded passively, saying some sort of gentle and playful assurance he didn't register. Luca had appeared from behind her, quietly, but Sebastien had seen his youngest brother in how the boy's eyes searched for assurance, and he reached his head out and ruffled the boy's somewhat long hair, for once not in the braids Elizabeta loved to put it in, as she was in too much of a rush to do hair.

Luca's eyes opened wide, and Sebastien snatched his hand back, realizing what he'd done with a sense of shame. He didn't want to be like Giovanni. He loved his older brothers, all of them, but he didn't want to be like them. Not Giovanni, who hid from his family, Lovino who always snapped at them, or Feliciano who cried. Sebastian didn't want to be like his youngest brother either, who grew up in an imaginary world where none of the fighting or yelling happened, then abandoned Sebastien without a word and slipped away.

Sebastien didn't want to be any of his brother's, but he wasn't sure he wanted to be "Sebastien" either. Luca watched the expressions change on Sebastien's face with silent eyes, and Sebastien smiled his best encouraging smile back, but didn't say anything. Luca didn't either.

Sebastien always Babysat at Chris's house, not because Chris had a bigger house or a better yard, but because it was closer to the center of where all the kids came from.

It was habit that brought him to Chris's house, and and Chris answered the door grumbling and in his underwear, with his normally slicked back hair falling into his eyes, but let them in like Sebastien knew he would. Chris's house was noisy, but not in a way that could be heard. Chris was American, and if Sebastien was judging by the way he decorated his house, he wanted everyone to know that. There was American flags ha going from the wall, on the mug full of steaming coffee he had sitting on his star-spangled table, and even his boxers were modeled after the flag. Chris's house was loud in a silent way that Sebastien found both slightly overwhelming but also comforting.

But somehow Sebastien didn't feel comfortable in Chris's house that day. He felt strange and out of place. Chris seems to sense it too, staring at Sebastien with an unusual soft gaze for the teen who liked to play tough.

"Um, You okay?"

Sebastien had blinked. Did he not look okay? Why? He should change that. He was the good brother, the one who didn't cause trouble, Giovanni had said that. Being okay no matter what happened was the only thing that Sebastien knew he was good at. He blinked once more, then beamed at Chris's concerned face.

"Si! Im fine! I was just thinking about my brothers!"

Chris seemed to accept that, nodding.

"My older brother is out helping with clean up with Elizabeta." He said simply. "I think he's got a bet with her. What an idiot."

Chris's voice was soft, contrasting with his harsh words, and he wore a gentle smile on his face as he turned to Luca.

"Hey Kid, want Orange juice?"

Luca looked up from the drawing pack he was unpacking from the bag Elizabeta had sent and looked at the carton that Chris was shaking before nodding his head and presumably mumbling a quiet affirmation, but Sebastien didn't hear it. The moment he'd seen Chris's smile, it went silent. Sebastien remembered the last time he'd seen any of his brothers smile in that gentle way. Eight years ago, Giovanni's warm hand in his head.

"Sebastien, you're the only one who doesn't cause me trouble."

Chris seemed to notice that something wasn't right, turning to look at Sebastien, and Sebastien caught the last bits of Chris's words.

"- You okay?"

Sebastien wondered what Chris would say if he said "No". He thought that if he said that, Chris would ask what was wrong, and Sebastien didn't have an answer. He didn't think he could say that something was wrong, that would trouble Chris. He didn't think he knew who to say that something was wrong. His mouth moved, and his face smiled, and he felt his throat vibrate with his voice, but he didn't know what he said. Whatever it was appeased Chris somewhat, and he left Sebastien to watch Luca while he showered.

It never used to be quiet when Sebastien babysat. It never went quiet before, but then the silence wouldn't go away. It was still silent when Chris came back from the shower, hair slicked back and one of his obnoxiously loud shirts on. It was still silent at noon when Chris confronted Sebastien, saying he didn't look well and demanding he go home and rest. For a moment, after Chris pushed him to the doorstep and dumped his belongings and coat in his arms, Sebastien stared, watching Chris's lips so he wouldn't miss a word of the scolding. He pictured himself asking the request, could almost hear his own voice in his head asking.

"Hey, can I stay at your house?"

But he didn't ask, and instead just cut off Chris with a a string of his own words, and a mischievous wink. He couldn't stay there. Sebastien wasn't like his brothers. He was the only one who hadn't left home. He didn't intend to ever leave. He expected the house to be silent when he got back, so he wasn't surprised whe it was. There were footprints all around the house, though, and a note from Elizabeta stuck on the door.

"You Idiot! Why didn't you tell me your house got hit! You shouldn't be working today! When you see this go to the hospital and get checked out, just in case. You could be hurt and just not realize."

He stared blankly at the note for a moment, then, after a moment of consideration, chose to ignore it. The kitchen was silent, and the instant meals and leftovers he kept in the fridge seemed gross and unappetizing. Almost instinctively he started to his room, then stoped, remembering. Instead he turned his feet slowly towards the family room.

The family room was quiet, still strewn with his belongings, rescued from his room in a mad dash, the messy blankets on the couch from his sleep there. It was quiet, but even when it wasn't silent, it was quiet. The house was always quiet those days.

Searching for an escape from the overwhelming emptiness, Sebastien reached for his phone, and was startled to multiple messages. He hadn't heard the texts come in. He was even more confused when he saw who texted him. The only ones who message him were people related to work, Wendy's two older brothers, Liam and Kyle, Miss Elizabeta, Lares and Peter's parents, Chris.

There were still texts from Elizabeta, warning him the house want safe to stay in, berating him for not telling her, and on, but what made him stare where the messages from his younger brother and eldest brothers. Matteo had neither texted him nor responded to any of his texts since he had told Sebastien he moved out, and Sebastien had thought Matteo had either blocked him or changed his number. Still, Matteo's texts were still less confusing than the text from Giovanni, since Sebastien didn't even know Giovanni knew his number.

There were missed calls too, but he didn't bother looking at those. He wasn't able to hear to call them back anyways, and phone calls didn't work well without hearing.

He read Giovanni's message first.

"Fratelino, are you okay? Matteo told me the house got crushed by a tree?"

His finger hovered above the keypad as though to reply, but he didn't know what else he could say other that "I'm fine." Sebastien wasn't dumb enough to pretend the suffocating feeling in his chest was "fine." He backed out of the message and choose Matteo's. How had Matteo even know about the tree? Had someone told him? The text answered his questions.

"Fratello, are you alright? I saw on the news that a tree fell on the house!"

So the news had already videos the house and spread the footage. He read the rest of the messages.

"Fratello?

Answer me quickly! Are you okay?

You're not dead, right, grande Fratello?

Sebastien?

Please answer!"

The house was shaking with the feeling of something slamming, and Sebastian didn't need to be able to hear to know that the wind was probably raging in from where the tree broke down the wall and the roof. Matteo had sent a lot of messages, even more than he read, and the messages made his chest feel tight and uncomfortable. Why was the brother that hated him the most, so much so that he'd snuck away without even telling him, why was that brother acting like he cared now? And if he did care, Sebastian didn't know how he should react.

Suddenly, he felt tired, and incredibly exhausted. Sebastien decided he'd worry about the texts later and threw the phone to the side, where he hoped it landed on the soft chair and not the hard floor, as he was unable to tell by sound and simply didn't bother to look. The Family Room seemed even quieter than before, Chris's loud decorations making the complete emptiness in the house more obvious. There used to be pictures on the wall, pictures of their whole family, pictures of just Lovino and Feliciano, pictures of Giovanni and Matteo, or Sebastien holding Matteo when he was still a baby. There used to be a picture of their grandpa who left the house to them, with one arm around his best friend.

Now all the pictures were gone, and Sebastien didn't know whether the impact of the tree had knocked them free, or if they'd disappeared one by one with his family. Sebastien spoke aloud to room he couldn't hear, with his own voice he couldn't hear, and for once, he thought he knew what he said.

"It's silent in the family room."


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