Thanks to MonalisaRomano17 for reviewing.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Chapter 12

Marcello was standing in the doorway of his brother's room, staring at the scene in front of him. He was trying to process what he was seeing.

Lovino had his sleeve rolled up, a knife in his hand, and he was pretty sure that he could see red lines on his brother's arm. Lovino also appeared shocked, before his face twisted in anger.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Lovino shouted. "Get out! OUT!"

Marcello quickly shut the door, and the realisation of what he'd seen hit. But it was at that moment that he heard his father's footsteps approaching, running from downstairs.

"What's going on?" Romulus demanded.

Marcello was about to answer, but then he remembered how angry Lovino had looked. And how afraid. No matter what, Marcello couldn't tell their father about what he'd seen. But he also didn't want to have Romulus angry at Lovino. Marcello scrambled for an excuse, and there was only one thing he could think of. He blushed at what he was about to say, but knew that it was necessary.

"I… I didn't knock on Lovino's door," Marcello said. "And I… Kind of caught him with his pants down."

He knew that it was the only explanation that his father would accept. Still, it was pretty awkward to say it. Hopefully, the awkwardness of his words hid the fact that he was lying to his father.

Romulus paused, blinking a few times in an effort to process his son's words. He sighed, before knocking on Lovino's door.

"Hang a sock," Romulus said, before walking away.

Marcello sighed in relief, but jumped when Lovino's door opened. A flustered Lovino was on the other side.

"Get in, now," he hissed.

Marcello nodded and quickly went in, before Lovino shut the door. The older Italian pinched the bridge of his nose before turning to his younger brother.

"What the hell possessed you to tell him that?" he demanded.

"I didn't want to get you in trouble, fratello," Marcello admitted.

"And painting me like a pervert or something is a good way to do that? Feliks just left. What the hell do you think Padre could be thinking now?"

Marcello understood why Lovino was mad. He winced, averting his eyes. They fell on Lovino's arms, and he remembered what he really saw.

"Lovi…" he started.

"Don't call me that," Lovino snapped.

Marcello took a deep breath, trying to steel his nerves.

"Fratello…" he said. "Your arm…"

Lovino gripped his arm, glaring at Marcello.

"Why?" Marcello asked. "I thought it was only depressed people that do that."

Lovino didn't answer, and instead simply stared at Marcello. It was in that silence that Marcello got his answer.

"…How long?" Marcello asked.

"What does it matter?" Lovino asked. "You can leave now."

Marcello winced, before he reached into his jean's pocket.

"I actually came to return your charger," Marcello said. "I'm going to buy a new one tomorrow."

Lovino stared at it for a moment before he shook his head.

"Keep it," he said. "I'm not going to use my phone anytime soon."

Marcello put the cable back in his pocket, biting his lip.

"Why didn't you tell any of us that you were hurting?" Marcello asked. "We could have helped."

Lovino snorted in disbelief, and Marcello flinched a bit at the action.

"Oh really?" Lovino asked. "Because I'm pretty sure that this is the longest conversation we've ever had. It's a bit hard to have a meaningful conversation with someone who wants to run away whenever he's around me."

Marcello's stomach sank when he realised that Lovino was right. He was always nervous around his eldest brother, and tried to get away. And he wondered – for the first time – how much that must have hurt Lovino.

"What about Feli and Papa?" Marcello asked.

"You think I'm going to talk about something like this to someone who's always happy?" Lovino asked. "He's going to suggest a way to 'make me feel better' that would only make things worse. Not to mention, Feli can't keep something to himself to save his life. And you're not deaf. You hear how Padre yells at me, even if you run away before that happens."

Marcello flinched again, and he understood. Lovino had to suffer in silence, because no one in the house would have been able to help him. Marcello tried to avoid him, Feliciano wouldn't understand how deeply his sorrow went, and their father was always so harsh with Lovino.

Lovino pursed his lips, before he turned away.

"I think we're finished here," he said. "Time for you to leave. Now."

This wasn't the first time that Marcello had been dismissed. But it was the worst. Because he realised that this was the first time that Lovino had really dismissed him.

"Fratello, just promise me that you're not thinking of killing yourself," Marcello said.

Lovino said nothing again, and Marcello experienced a new kind of fear. Lovino wasn't serious about it, was he? No. He neither confirmed nor denied Marcello's fear, and that made the fear grow.

And he realised that he knew little of why Lovino would feel the way he felt. He knew little of his brother.

…

Lovino was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. A part of him wanted to sleep, but another part was too afraid to.

His youngest brother knew what he was doing to himself. How long before his father knew? And what would happen?

He shuddered, recalling an event that happened not long after his mother's death. The words spoken to Lovino out of anger. And his father was the one to utter them.

The first words that made Lovino want to die.

He'd seen the disappointment on the man's face many times before. Imagined he'd seen after the accident, when his mother died but he survived. And the sarcastic words. He could already imagine them. How Lovino was a failure. How he couldn't fulfil his father's deepest wish. How he was selfish. How he didn't know where he went wrong with him.

Lovino's throat started to hurt as he desperately tried to hold back the tears. It wasn't fair. His brothers were loved, while he was hated. By their peers, by their teachers, by their father. Why? What did Lovino do to earn this hell?

He recalled the assignment for English Literature, and he stood from his bed. He knew that he wouldn't be able to write a masterpiece or something, but along the subject of hell, he should write while the thoughts were still fresh. He made his way to his desk, pulling an exam pad closer. He wrote his name, class and the date at the top, before he started writing.

My idea of hell.

When most people think of hell, they think of fire and brimstone. They think of being trapped in chains while demons torture them for all eternity. But that's not my idea of hell. In fact, these things would be better than my hell.

Juan Paul Sartre said in his play 'No Exit' that hell is other people. There are a lot of grey areas in that statement, so perhaps I should clarify:

Hell is being told that you should be more like someone else by the exact same people who tell everyone else that they should be themselves. To have everything about your personality being hated, and to have no redeemable qualities. To have the only person that liked you die.

Hell is being told that you were supposed to die in an accident that you had been in. To be told that your parents should have thrown you in the trash the moment you were born. To be told that you should kill yourself, or that you should die.

Hell is having nothing that you're good at, and being stuck in a family with talented, perfect people. It's to have a disappointed look directed at you all the time, but you don't know what to do to make people proud of you.

I don't believe hell is part of the afterlife. I believe that hell is another life, and you're stuck in a position that you want to escape, but can't. And the worst part is, you don't even remember why you're going through hell. Hell is wanting to die, but someone always stops you.

Sartre's version of hell is the closest to true hell. No escape, and hell is other people. But it's another life, where you were dealt a cruel hand. It's my life.

Lovino debated on whether or not to add the last three words, but decided to do so. He would fail this anyway. And perhaps, if he succeeded, at least one teacher would know why. Not that she would care. She would probably just give it another low grade.

His eyes trailed to his bag, and he felt a cold terror creep up on him. He knew that he needed to give the paper to his father to sign. And he knew that his father would explode.

…Well, he might as well get it over with now. He learned a long time ago that delaying the inevitable with his father only ended up making things worse. He wanted nothing more than to avoid the storm that would hit, but that was the thing with storms. They could be protected against, but they could not be stopped.

He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the storm, and made his way to his father's study. He hesitated at the door, before knocking.

"Si?" his father prompted.

Lovino knew that Romulus thought that it was one of the other two at the door. But he would be disappointed soon. He opened the door, and he could see the light disappear from his father's eyes.

Neither of them said anything as Lovino walked the short distance to his father's desk, and he held out the paper.

"I need you to sign this," Lovino muttered.

Romulus glanced at it, and Lovino knew the moment his father noticed his grade, as his face twisted in rage.

"What the hell, Lovino?!" Romulus snapped, slamming his hand on the desk and rising from his seat. "Did you even try?! Why do I even pay for your education if you can't bring back anything better than this?!"

Lovino kept his gaze trained on the desk, not looking at his father. Of course, this wasn't the first time he'd heard something like this, but every time, it was almost as though it became more painful. If his brothers did poorly – rarely happened, but occasionally happened in science, maths, or anything left-brain oriented – then Romulus would be gentle. He would ask them what was wrong, and he would comfort them. Lovino wasn't so lucky.

He listened as his father clicked his tongue in disgust, before he sat back down and signed the paper. He then gave it to Lovino.

"Don't let it happen again," Romulus said.

Lovino said nothing as he left his father's study, going back up the stairs. He knew that it would happen again, unless he managed to succeed. He just needed to plan it out this time.

As he reached the next floor, he saw Marcello standing nearby, looking at him with a sad expression. Lovino said nothing, going in the opposite direction, towards his room.

"Fratello…" Marcello said weakly.

"Don't pretend that anything's changed," Lovino hissed. "Because nothing has, and nothing will."

Lovino made his way to his room, and after making a few more cuts, he decided to go to bed.

…

Lovino was being led out of the principal's office, his face and body a bit bruised, but he was satisfied. The other guy was in a worse state. That was what he got for picking on Lovino's fratellino. What made this especially satisfactory was the fact that he was two years older than Lovino. What was he doing, picking on a kid three years younger?

"I can't believe you did that," his father growled. "Did it ever occur to you that this could affect the entire family?"

Lovino didn't care, for once. He was just glad that he could protect his younger brother from a bully.

However, when he saw Marcello… The youngest Italian brother hid behind Feliciano. As though he was afraid of Lovino. And Feliciano just had this sad expression on his face.

He thought he was helping his brother… But he failed. And he only ended up scaring him. Scaring him for years to come.

Lovino awoke with a start. Why did he keep having dreams of the past? Was it because he wanted to die? Or was it because he failed at dying twice now. Was some sort of higher power sending him these dreams to motivate him to try again, and to do it right?

Or… Was it because Marcello now knew about Lovino's secret shame? The weakness he had tried to hide. The fact that he was too weak to handle the hell he was placed in. He also lied to Feliks that he didn't know what he had done to earn Marcello's fear. But he didn't want to talk about it, and so he tried to play it off.

He tried to think back to the conversation he'd had with Marcello. It was honestly the longest conversation they'd had in years. What did Marcello think? He was pretty sure he'd seen disgust at one point. And then Marcello wanted him to talk about this with Feliciano and their father?

He wasn't being mean when he said that Feliciano couldn't keep a secret to save his life. Or, more specifically, save Lovino's life. Feliciano was the reason why the terrible trio knew the meaning of Lovino's name. Feliciano was the reason why Lovino's own name could be used as a weapon against him.

I ruin…

Why did his parents curse him with that name? Did they know that he was doomed to be a failure? That he would be the reason for his mother's death? That he would be a constant reminder to his father of the love he had lost?

I ruin…

Lovino bit his lip, curling into a ball and gripping his head. He sobbed, and the tears started to fall. Why? Why wasn't he the one that died that day?

A week. It was a week until the anniversary. Actually… A glance towards his alarm clock revealed that it was less than a week now. Perhaps… Perhaps he should try to die on the anniversary of the day he should have.

Once his tears stopped, he felt nothing except exhaustion. At least the following day was a Saturday. He didn't have to worry about waking up early, or being yelled at for not standing up early enough by his father. He could relax a little.

But only a little. He still had a project to finish. For Feliks's sake. Just because the Pole had been an idiot to choose Lovino as his partner didn't mean that Lovino would leave him with nothing for the project. He probably owed it to Feliks to help him.

He was the first person in a long time, other than Feliciano, who wanted to be his project partner. He deserved to have something, after all.

He would finish the project during the weekend, and then he would remove himself from Feliks's life, before he removed himself from life.

…

Marcello was hurrying through his preparations the next morning. He would be going to the mall with his friends. It was currently eight-thirty, and at nine o'clock sharp, one of his friends' parents would be picking him up.

On his way to the bathroom he passed Lovino's room. He stopped, remembering everything he'd seen and heard late the previous afternoon. Lovino hadn't even joined them for dinner again. He had been asleep, or so Feliciano claimed.

Lovino was suffering from depression, but how serious was it? He wasn't… He wasn't thinking about killing himself, was he?

Marcello shuddered. He wanted to help his brother, but he had no idea what to do. And he didn't know who to ask for advice.

He continued with his preparations, and at nine o'clock sharp he heard a car pulling into the driveway. Knowing who it was, and knowing that he shouldn't keep the man waiting, he quickly bid his father goodbye before going towards the car, slipping into the backseat.

"Ciao," he greeted everyone.

There was a round of greetings among everyone. His friends Henri, Camille and Lili. And then there was Lili's father.

"Good morning Mr Zwingli," he greeted.

It was a bit strange, being the friend of the daughter of one of his teachers. And it was always strange to see the strict teacher outside of school. Vash Zwingli just nodded, before he started to drive off.

A few minutes later had them in the mall's parking lot, with Vash telling Lili to call him when she's ready for him to pick them up. But while they were getting out, Vash suddenly spoke again.

"Marcello, could I speak to you for a moment?" he asked.

Marcello froze, mostly out of confusion, but nodded his head. The others went ahead, and Vash sighed.

"Tell me, how is your brother?" Vash asked.

Marcello frowned a bit. He couldn't be speaking about…

"Do you mean Lovino, or Feliciano?" Marcello asked, just to make sure.

"Lovino," Vash said. "I noticed that there seems to be something wrong with him lately."

Marcello's eyes widened. Perhaps he had someone that he could ask for advice after all.

"Well…" he said. "Um… I walked in on Lovino… doing something yesterday."

"What was it?" Vash asked.

"He… He was cutting."

Vash sighed in frustration.

"Have you told anyone else?" he asked.

"N-no," Marcello admitted. "He won't let me go to my father, and he's… I feel so guilty. Lovino's been hurting and… I've been avoiding him. I hurt him too."

Vash took a deep breath.

"I think you need to work on gaining his trust first," Vash said. "If he doesn't trust you, then he's not going to accept your help."

Marcello nodded, understanding what the teacher was saying.