Thanks to Scarllett83, Carina Sicily and for reviewing.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
Chapter 22
When he could no longer look at the few contents of Lovino's memento box, he placed the box in its proper place and stumbled out of the office. He felt horrified at himself. He never realised how little he cared for his eldest son.
Romulus looked up at the ceiling, before making his way to the stairs. He knew that he was causing himself a lot of pain, but… He couldn't ignore anything about Lovino. Not anymore. He'd done it for too long, and now his son was in the hospital, with the desire to end his life.
He hesitated at Lovino's bedroom door. He knew that he was invading his son's privacy, but he needed to know. He knew that he needed to know exactly what was wrong in his son's life. He was just concerned. And he wanted to get to know his son.
He felt sick that he hadn't done it before.
He entered the room and froze in shock. He'd come by many times before. He'd come to chase Lovino out of bed those times. And Lovino was the one that cleaned his room, so Romulus never really had a reason to be in there. But now was probably the first time that he actually saw the room. Felt it.
It didn't feel like his son's room. It felt like a guest room.
Romulus swallowed nervously. He first turned his attention to the walls. It was painted in the same colour it had been when Lovino was given his own room as a toddler. Marcello's and Feliciano's rooms had been repainted according to their preferences, but Lovino's hadn't changed at all. There wasn't even a single photograph or picture on any of the walls. Not a mirror, not a shelf. Nothing.
The room itself was actually very neat, with only a thin layer of dust. Lovino hadn't cleaned in the last two weeks. But all things considered, he might not have had the energy.
Romulus turned his attention to the desk. It was also neat, with the only exception being the three books on the surface, and a hastily-scribbled note on top of the books. Fearing that it was Lovino's intended suicide note, he carefully picked it up.
In case anyone cares about why I did it… These books are all the bad things that everyone's told me for the last ten years.
Romulus felt a jolt of shock. Lovino… why would he even write anything like this? He turned his attention to the first book, and opened it to the first page.
Don't you dare talk about her! You don't deserve to mention her! It's your fault she's dead! It should have been you instead!
Romulus almost sobbed when he read those words. There were a few spelling errors, and the writing was still that of a child, but the meaning was clear. And even though Lovino didn't write the speaker's identity, it was almost exactly the same thing Lovino had told Romulus that he had said to him when he was still six years old.
Romulus scanned the next few pages, recognising the things he said simply by the tone of the words, and even the words themselves. And he could see the things that other children had said to Lovino as well.
He went through a few pages, and the things said to a little boy horrified him. Closing the book, he decided that it would be best to see all of the things recently said to Lovino. So he grabbed the third book and opened to the last written section.
Do you have any idea what your behaviour does to the rest of us? You keep dragging our family name through the mud. Instead of Feliciano and Marcello's achievements, we're known for you being a delinquent. Did it ever occur to you to think of someone instead of yourself? You realise you're supposed to be applying for university soon? Do you think anyone is going to be interested in someone with a record like yours? Honestly, I have no idea what went wrong with you. Feli and Cello are children that any parent could be proud of. How are you even related to them? You know what, Lovino? I'm getting really fed up with you. Sometimes I wish you weren't my son.
It was a long passage, and Romulus wondered if Lovino could really remember all of that. But he could definitely recognise his words. The last sentence especially made him feel guilty. It was the last thing in this book. The final thing that convinced Lovino to make an attempt on his own life.
He recalled the argument from this afternoon. No, it wasn't an argument. Lovino said nothing. He endured Romulus's words in silence. Romulus called him selfish. Romulus also implied that he had no reason to be proud of Lovino. He wondered if Lovino also felt that Romulus was implying that he had no future.
Romulus kept reading everything that was said to Lovino in the last few days, feeling his stomach drop with each passage. He couldn't blame Lovino for wanting to end it. And he felt horrible that this was what Lovino had to hear every day.
When was the last time Romulus said something positive to Lovino?
He finally couldn't take it anymore, and he shut the book. Tears were stinging his eyes, and he could already imagine the disappointment on Chiara's face for allowing their son to go through this hell.
He walked towards the bed and sat down, immediately yelping and jumping up. The mattress had collapsed. He gingerly lay down and immediately felt the discomfort. Why didn't Lovino say anything before?
He recalled a passage of what he could identify as his own words, where he had scolded Lovino for bringing back a bad grade. He remembered it vaguely. Where he asked Lovino why he paid for his education. Where he might have implied that he was wasting his money.
Did Lovino choose to endure the discomfort because he thought that he was wasting Romulus's money? Did Romulus make him feel that way?
Romulus knew that he needed to fix it. Perhaps, there was one kind thing that he could do for Lovino. He turned his attention to the bedside cabinet. The only objects on top were the table lamp, alarm clock, and a picture frame. He tenderly picked it up, seeing the photograph of Lovino and Chiara. Both looked so happy.
Romulus felt his throat tighten at the reminder that he had forbidden his son from speaking about the parent that showed him love, even if it was that one time in a fit of grief. Romulus was the one that denied his son the opportunity to mourn his mother's death.
He sighed as he put the picture frame down. He opened the drawer and immediately felt his blood run cold. There was a first-aid kit inside, and several other salves, bandages, and the like. A box of mild antidepressants was there as well, though it was unopened. There was a box of tissues, and he dearly hoped that his son used them for the same reasons teenage boys usually used them. He quickly abandoned the drawer and went through the trash bin, glad that it wasn't garbage day yet. He examined every tissue he found. All of them had blood. Some had specks, others had larger stains.
With a shudder, he returned to the drawer. There was also a bottle of bubble bath – something he couldn't figure out, until he saw that it was for sore muscles. He figured that Lovino kept this in case of emergencies. And then he found a pocket knife.
His mind flashed to the cuts on Lovino's arms, and he held the knife with a sense of horror. This was most likely the same knife that Lovino used to harm himself. The cause of all those cuts.
No, not the cause. Just the means.
Feeling that it would be best to hold onto the knife, he placed it in his pocket, before turning to the bookshelf at the foot of the bed. This was probably the one thing that reflected Lovino the most. Unless Romulus wanted to check on his son's laptop. He didn't believe that these books were for school, so he wandered closer.
The shelf was almost completely filled with classical books. The paperbacks didn't have a single crinkle in the spines, with the only evidence that they had been read the slight yellowing of the pages, along with the fact that they refused to remain closed. The hardbacks also had the slightly yellowed pages to indicate age.
Lovino liked books. Why didn't Romulus realise it before?
He recalled Feliks mentioning at the hospital that they had gotten tickets for one of Shakespeare's plays, and how Feliciano also seemed to know that Lovino liked Shakespeare. A complete collection was one of the books that Romulus picked up.
Then there was a book of fairy tales that looked vaguely familiar. He picked it up and opened the book. On the inside was a note written in Chiara's handwriting.
To Lovino,
I hope this book helps open doors to new worlds.
Love, Mama.
He wondered if this was the same book that Lovino had referred to earlier. A gift from his mother. A gift that he'd wanted to share with his father. Because he felt that his father needed comfort. The same book that he was holding when Romulus told him that he should have died.
He leafed through the book. Unlike the others, he could tell that this book had been read a lot, and there were also slight stains. He almost thought water stains, but the size had him reconsidering. Could it be… tears? Did a young Lovino read this book when he was seeking comfort? Comfort that he'd sought from Romulus, only to have it denied?
And at some point, he'd started seeking comfort from a blade.
Romulus had never been so disgusted with himself. His son was in pain, in every sense of the word, and he only contributed to make it worse. He was a horrible father.
But he would fix things.
He looked at the bookshelf again. Lovino would most likely get bored in the hospital. He would need to read something. But what? From the looks of it, every book on the shelf had been read at some point. A new book, perhaps? He could clearly see what Lovino liked. But unfortunately, he planned on going to the hospital early the next morning. Book stores wouldn't be open until later. Unless…
Romulus left the room and made his way back to his office. He had an idea of something that Lovino could read.
…
Romulus was standing in the cemetery, but he wasn't alone. Standing a few metres in front of him was his young son, hugging the gravestone of his mother.
"Please, take me with you!" Lovino begged. "I don't want to stay here. I want to be dead too. I want to be with you. Please, Mama, I'm sorry!"
He could feel his heart clench as he heard those words, and he walked closer. He gently placed his hand on his son's head, and the six-year-old whipped around, a look of fear on his face.
"Let's go home," Romulus said.
Lovino whimpered, but followed Romulus out of the graveyard. They said nothing as they drove away, but Romulus took a detour. He wasn't taking them home. Not immediately.
Lovino looked confused when he realised that they weren't home yet.
"Come on," Romulus said as he climbed out of the car.
Lovino hesitantly followed behind, and the two entered the ice-cream parlour.
The two sat down, ice-creams in front of them. Lovino's ice-cream kept changing. Romulus didn't know what flavour his son would have gone with.
"I'm really sorry about what I said earlier," Romulus said. "You weren't supposed to die instead of your mama. I was just… upset. I'm sorry. It was wrong of me."
"…Why did you forget?"
The child's voice had been replaced by the older Lovino's, and the sixteen-year-old was sitting in front of him, covered in bruises with cuts on his bare arms.
"Is it because I'm not Feliciano or Marcello?" Lovino asked. "Is it because I'm not important enough?"
"No!" Romulus exclaimed. "It's not that at all!"
"If Feliciano didn't call you, I would be dead now," Lovino continued. "Because you wouldn't have come to apologise. You wouldn't have come into my room. You wouldn't have bothered. You never did."
Romulus's eyes snapped open, and he could feel the tears streaming down his face. A dream that started by showing him what could have been, had he just remembered. If he'd realised that he was the reason why Lovino had been in the cemetery in the first place. If he'd thought of comforting his son.
He groaned when the alarm went off, and he silenced it. With a sigh, he climbed out of the bed and started with his daily routine, before leaving to go to the kitchen.
But at the top of the stairs, he paused.
A part of him hoped that it was all just a horrible nightmare. That Lovino was sleeping in his bed. But he knew that if he opened the door, his son wouldn't be there. He was still in the hospital.
Just like ten years ago.
It filled him with a sense of horror that Lovino was in the hospital on the anniversary of the accident. He should have known. Romulus had always been told that he was in tune with other people's feelings. And he'd always prided himself in being able to sense when something was bothering his sons. Except Lovino. The one that needed his help the most.
Romulus couldn't remember a single day when breakfast was a silent affair. Normally, he would chat with Feliciano and Marcello about many things, such as the plans for the day. But now, no one knew what to say. Their thoughts were on how empty the kitchen was. Lovino rarely joined them at the table, but he was still there. The fact that Romulus had accidentally made too much food was testament to that.
"I'm going to visit Lovino before work," Romulus said. "And then we can all go together after school. Sounds good?"
"Why are you going before work?" Marcello asked bitterly.
Marcello was still angry at him. Romulus knew this. He sighed.
"I'm going to give him a book or two," Romulus explained. "I think he'll get bored."
Marcello nodded his head.
"I'll also see if Mario was serious about that pizza," Romulus continued.
"What is his favourite?" Feliciano whispered.
None of them could answer.
"We're really pathetic, aren't we?" Marcello sighed.
…
Matthew was preparing for the day, running through his schedule when his phone rang. He checked and felt a twinge of concern when he saw that it was Feliks's father that called him.
"Morning Fryderyk," Matthew greeted. "Is Feliks alright?"
"Feliks is fine," the other male said. "It was just a stomach bug. He's also not the reason why I called you. At least, not directly."
Matthew frowned. It was never a good sign if a patient called him when he was off the clock, and in the case of the younger patients, having their parents call was also bad news. Especially if it was very late at night or very early in the morning.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"I assume that Feliks has told you about his friend, Lovino?" Fryderyk asked.
Matthew immediately had a suspicion about what happened.
"Yes, he did," Matthew said.
"Yesterday afternoon, he attempted suicide," the doctor explained. "He's under suicide watch, but we need a psychiatric evaluation. Just looking at the way he harmed himself…"
Matthew sighed in relief, pleased that it had only been an attempt and that he wasn't victorious.
"Alright," he said. "I'll have to check my schedule, but I should be able to come by sometime this morning. How's Feliks taking it?"
"He's upset," Fryderyk sighed. "But he's not really surprised. He also feels guilty, because he wasn't at school yesterday. He wonders if it could have changed anything."
Matthew understood the feeling. He'd dealt with many patients who suffered through a trauma, and who questioned if things could have been different if something had happened differently. If a trauma could have been prevented.
"Is it possible for you to bring Feliks tomorrow?" he asked. "I think he's in need of another session. Soon."
There was a sigh on the other end.
"I figured," Fryderyk said. "I'll see what I can do. See you soon, Matthew."
Matthew ended the call, before sighing. He didn't work on weekends, so he could see Feliks for a session. But now, there was another teenage boy that needed his attention.
He needed to go to his office first. He needed to check his schedule. And he needed to find the notes that he had begun on Lovino. They were placed in Feliks's file, and could help him to understand Lovino. He already had an idea on the things that he would do with Lovino.
Going through his mental checklist, he made his way to the door.
…
Feliciano was sitting next to Marcello on the bus. Neither of them said a word. Neither of them felt that they could join their friends. Neither of them felt in the mood for laughing.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
Feliciano looked up at the concerned voice. Antonio, Francis and Gilbert were standing there. But, before Feliciano could answer, Marcello spoke.
"It's none of your business," he spat. "Leave us alone."
Feliciano was a bit surprised by his younger brother's tone of voice, and so were the others. Francis looked around.
"Where's Lovi?" he asked.
"None of your business!" Marcello snapped. "Go away!"
The three hesitated, before leaving. Feliciano turned to Marcello, a look of understanding on his face.
"It's them, isn't it?" he asked, to which Marcello nodded.
"They sent fratellone to the hospital," Marcello said.
On an unrelated note, those of you living in Europe and Canada – and perhaps the northern states of America – you have no idea how jealous I am of you right now. We're currently dealing with a drought and a heatwave. You know it's bad when the desert plants are suffering. Luckily, I'm not in the Northern Cape. It's pretty much desert there, so…