Thanks to WickedInk and Yaoi-Is-Life-and-Love for reviewing.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Chapter 45

"This stinks!" Gilbert huffed.

As punishment for what he and his friends had done to Lovino, he was confined to the house, where he had to do a lot of chores. If only it were that easy. Because his father had decided that simply doing the chores wouldn't be enough. He had to give the tasks a difficulty spike.

For example, Gilbert had to cut the grass. With scissors. And his father was watching him, and he warned him that he wouldn't be afraid to call the police. After all, assault was a criminal offence, and it would be easy to get a testimony from the doctors who attended to Lovino about the severity of his injuries. And they could also always convince their fellow students to testify how Gilbert and his friends had a habit of getting into altercations with Lovino.

His father was a real traitor. He should have been on his side. He should have understood that Gilbert had a good reason for wanting to put that arrogant asshole in his place.

Lovino…

Gilbert could clearly see Lovino's arrogant face in his mind. He clearly remembered Lovino's attitude towards other people. How he treated everyone as though they were beneath him. How he would abuse those that tried to get close to him. How he would be nothing but rude and snappish towards them.

And now everyone was on Lovino's side, ignoring the fact that a few weeks ago they had felt the same way about him as Gilbert felt. And now they wanted to treat Lovino as the victim.

Filthy hypocrites!

And even Antonio and Francis were showing signs of believing that Lovino was the victim, but at least they hadn't forgotten the cruel treatment they had received from Lovino when they had tried to be his friends. And they also felt that what they were going through was unjustified and wrong.

If Gilbert ever got his hands on Lovino again… though, the chances of that happening anytime soon weren't in his favour. He was grounded, and couldn't go anywhere asides from school. And then there was the fact that Lovino didn't attend the same school anymore. There was no way for Gilbert to get to Lovino.

But if he decided to go after Lovino's brothers…

He shook his head. No, that wouldn't help him. He needed to get to Lovino, and besides, Feliciano and Marcello had something that Lovino never had: friends. It would be impossible to get either of them alone.

The only option available to him was that he remained patient. It was only a matter of time before his father realised that Gilbert wasn't this monster that he seemed to think that he was now. The punishment would be lifted. Gilbert would be able to go out. He would be able to get near Lovino again. And he would make sure that Lovino would never be able to ruin their lives again. After all, he'd already tried to commit suicide once. It wouldn't be too hard for everyone to believe that he'd tried again. Especially if they got him to the bridge that led out of town. And the river that flowed underneath the bridge. It would be especially great if they managed it after it rained, and the water level would be higher.

Yes, that sounded like a good plan.

…

Lovino had been putting it off long enough. He'd been mulling over the ideas for his Literature homework for a few days, and he kept postponing actually writing it. But all his homework was finished now, but Marcello and Feliciano were still busy, and he somehow felt guilty about leaving them like that. With the narrative essay the only thing left, Lovino figured that now would be a good time to face the music.

I was in an elevator when the doors opened. I froze when I saw the three people on the other side. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. Francis Bonnefoy. Gilbert Beilschmidt. These three boys were responsible for making my childhood hell. To put it into simple terms, they were my bullies.

I tried to push the button to close the door, but when they saw that I was the one inside the elevator, they pushed their way in and cornered me against the far wall. Instead of the echo of the doors closing, I only heard my whimper of fear.

"Well now, look who it is," Gilbert said. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"We've missed you," Francis purred.

My breath hitched when the elevator suddenly stopped. The lights went off, and I was plunged into darkness with the three people who hated me. Their eyes were all that I could see. Gilbert's eyes were red, and I was sure that all the blood they made me spill was gathered in those eyes. Francis's were blue, and I was sure that they absorbed all my bruises. And Antonio… His green eyes dripped with poison.

I didn't know whose fist collided with my stomach, but I found myself curling up while pain burst through my torso. I couldn't breathe. Blow for blow, my body felt their fists. Before long, I felt the familiar feeling of a hand wrapped around my throat. I knew it to be Antonio's. I knew the feeling of their hands around my throat far too well.

"No one's going to stop us this time," Antonio whispered into my ear. "It's time to finish what we started."

I knew what they were referring to. Years ago, they attempted to drown me. I managed to break free, and if not for my father coming into view, they would have continued to try. And this time, no one would be able to stop them.

The emergency lights came on, bathing them in a red glow. They looked like the demons that lurked within their souls. I closed my eyes, their faces burned into the back of my eyelids. The thought that this would be the last thing I saw filled me with fear as I felt my chest tighten and tighten…

I could faintly hear people on the other side of the doors, desperately trying to free the prisoners of this box. My hope rested with them now. Even if they were too late… Even if I was already gone by the time they opened those doors… My body would serve as evidence of their crime.

Lovino placed the pen down. It was only the rough draft, but he had been told to try it without proper planning the first time. He had to get it all out. And even though he left it ambiguous whether or not he survived in the end, he felt better. Just the thought that those three – even if it was only a story – wouldn't get away with what they'd done made him feel better. That there was at least some justice in the world.

"Lovino?"

He jumped when he heard Marcello's voice, and he turned to face his youngest brother.

"S-si?" he asked.

"Are you okay?" Marcello asked. "Your hand is shaking."

Lovino looked down at his left hand, only to find that it was indeed shaking. So was his right, which was still in his lap. Chiara was stretching towards that hand, and she gently licked it a few times.

"I'm fine," Lovino sighed. "I guess this essay was more demanding than I thought it would be."

"What's the essay about?" Feliciano asked.

"It's a narrative essay. About… what would happen if you're trapped in an elevator with the last person you want to see."

His two brothers shuddered. It was clear that they understood what was bothering him.

"I-if you don't mind," Marcello said, "do you mind if I take a look?"

Lovino hesitated for a moment, before he handed the paper over to his brother. Dr Williams had told him to open up to his brothers a bit more.

He was silent as Marcello read the paper, his frown deepening the further he read. Eventually, he saw that Marcello's hand was also shaking, and he handed the paper over to Feliciano.

"The scary part is that it would actually happen," Marcello said. "Isn't there some way you could… change it a bit?"

"The teacher suggested that I write the first draft to get everything out of my system," Lovino explained. "I… I might change it for the final draft."

"I don't think you should," Feliciano said. "They always tell us that art is supposed to send a message, no matter how grim that message might be. And literature's a form of art, right? Ve, I think… You should keep it like this. Make people see how dangerous their actions can be."

Lovino was surprised to hear something like this coming from Feliciano, but he silently accepted the paper back. Perhaps… Perhaps he should ask Mr Kirkland about his opinion. But to be honest, he didn't think that he really wanted to change it. This essay… It was based on his own experiences. It came from the heart. And he had enough about silencing the cries from his heart.

…

"So, how's that new student doing?" Mei asked. "What's his name again?"

"Lovino," Yao said. "Well, it's still a bit early to say. He's opening up a bit more, though it's just my opinion. He tried his hardest in CS today, despite having a broken wrist. I'm actually surprised by how well he can function with a hand out of commission."

Leon frown as he pierced his slice of cake.

"Makes you wonder how used he is to doing something like that," Leon stated.

"…I hate it when you're right," Yao sighed. "It does make me wonder how used he is to something like that. How… tolerant he is to pain. And how much punishment he had to endure to reach that point."

Mei frowned.

"Have you tried inviting him out somewhere yet?" she asked. "Maybe an outing would help him. I mean… If he's been bullied, then I wonder how many chances he's had to spend time with other kids. Friends."

"Well, we've arranged to watch A Midsummer Night's Dream next Saturday," Yao said. "So, I guess there's that."

"Ooh, and afterwards you can all go for ice-cream together or something," Mei suggested.

"We'll see about it," Yao said, smirking slightly.

…

During homeroom, Lovino went up to Mr Kirkland, who greeted him with a smile.

"Hello Lovino," Arthur greeted. "How may I help you?"

"I… I did the first draft," Lovino said. "Do you mind… looking it over?"

Arthur's gaze turned solemn, and he nodded his head. He accepted the paper, and Lovino waited there, applying most of his weight to his right foot. He was nervous, especially after all the times when his essays were less than stellar.

"The repetition of 'I was sure' is a bit of a problem," Arthur mused. "But comparing their eyes to blood and bruises makes sense, and I especially like the part about the eyes dripping of poison. It would also make more sense for the emergency lights to come on earlier. Also, the part where you compared them to demons… Don't make it a comparison, but rather a metaphor. Make the two equal without saying it's like that. But… You definitely have talent. Could use some refinement, but… Honestly, it gave me chills." Arthur smiled at him. "Good job."

Lovino was surprised. He couldn't really recall a teacher ever actually telling him 'good job'. He accepted the paper back again, thanking the teacher.

"Also, might I suggest shortening it a bit?" Arthur asked. "Remember, the wordcount can't be more than 350."

To be honest, Lovino didn't really pay attention to the wordcount, but he still nodded his head. Perhaps he would need to shorten it. He would do the wordcount as well.

"Did your previous teacher show you how do to it easily?" Arthur asked.

"No," Lovino said. "There's an easy way?"

"Well, it's more of an estimation than an actual wordcount… You count the words in the first line only. And then you count the number of lines, and multiply the two, though you might want to make a plan with those that are at the end of the paragraph. Skip one, or something like that. So, your wordcount is more an estimation of the average."

Lovino's eyes widened. Yes… it certainly sounded a lot easier. Definitely better than counting each and every word. And it seemed as though Mr Kirkland wasn't as strict about accuracy as his previous teacher.

It seemed to him that every time he spoke to Mr Kirkland, he found more and more reasons to like him. It was really strange. He was used to teachers not liking him, so he also kept his distance. But… He actually felt as though he could approach the Englishman.

When Lovino sat down, he started to read the first draft again, trying to see how he could improve it.

…

They had another Gym class before lunch, and Lovino was on the bleachers, reading the book given to him at book club. He only had about fifty pages left, and he had nothing better to do. Because there was no way he would be able to join the others for laps with his sprained ankle.

"You know, I never could get the appeal of that."

Lovino was startled, and he turned to see Mr Jones standing there, staring at the book.

"What do you mean?" Lovino asked.

"Books," Mr Jones explained. "I don't understand how anyone can enjoy reading them. Especially those that don't have pictures."

Lovino shrugged his shoulders, closing the book and placing it on his lap.

"It's a great escape," Lovino said. "If you really get into a book… then the rest of the world doesn't matter. You get to see another world. Or go somewhere else in this world."

"Wouldn't it be better to actually go there?" Mr Jones asked.

"Not everyone can afford to go wherever they want, whenever they want."

"Couldn't you just look at photos of those places?"

"And what about the places that came from the author's mind? Like Middle Earth? Or Narnia?"

"Then I guess I'd wait for the movie."

"But the movie leaves out a lot of important stuff! Take the Harry Potter series for example. They completely skipped the part about his father being an animagus. Or the revelation that his father and his friends made that map in the first place! And that's just the third one!"

Mr Jones chuckled.

"You know, you kind of remind me of Mr Kirkland," he said. "Except, he slipped in a few insults about me being lazy, lacking imagination, not appreciating how much work goes into a novel. Things like that. But… I think it's important to have something you like, you know? Doing the things that you like… That's the difference between living and surviving, isn't it?"

Lovino looked down at his lap and shrugged his shoulders.

"I guess…" he said.

"Anyway, there's actually another reason why I came to you," Mr Jones said. "You're going to have to do some activities here, if you want a grade. So, after some thought, I think I have a solution. Are you free this afternoon?"

"Um, sure?"

"Great. I had to think carefully about your ankle and wrist, and I figured a big of tai chi wouldn't hurt. Of course, I'm no expert in it, so I'm going to ask Yao if he'd be willing to teach you. I'm sure he'd be glad to, since he's your friend and all."

"Yao?" Lovino repeated, looking over towards the Chinese boy.

"You'll be needing therapy soon, if I'm not mistaken. Um, physical therapy. I know tai chi is low impact, and it should be alright to do with your injuries. And I'm sure Yao would know how to adjust. It's just… I need to give you a participation mark for the practical. Theory can only take you so far."

Lovino nodded his head. He was actually surprised about the offer of tai chi, but he wasn't exactly opposed to it. To be honest, it sounded… interesting.

…

"Mr Jones actually asked that?" Vlad asked.

During lunch, Lovino and Yao told the rest about Mr Jones's request. Lovino was flipping through the recipe book that Yao had lent to him, trying to decide which recipes he should work on first.

"It does make sense," Heracles said. "I mean, he'll need to have marks for Gym too. But he can't force him to do something his body can't handle. Because even after the recovery time, there's still the therapy time."

"Are you two okay with it?" Gupta asked.

"I don't have a problem," Yao said. "Lovino?"

"I'll just have to make arrangements with my dad, but I don't think he's going to have a problem either," Lovino said. "By the way, how do you know tai chi?"

"I was raised with it. My grandpa was actually a teacher, before he died. I kept with the practice because it makes me feel that he's still here, you know?"

"By the way, are you still okay for tomorrow at eleven?" Heracles asked.

"Si," Lovino replied. "I'll be there."

"Wow," Feliks said. "Like, your schedule is getting totally full."

"You're still okay for this afternoon, right?" Vlad asked.

"Totally."

"So, looks like I'll wait for you two to finish with the tai chi then," Miguel said.

"You're free to join too, you know?" Yao huffed.

Miguel's hand immediately found its way to the scarf around his throat. While it was okay during Gym class – Lovino was on the bleachers the whole time, and Miguel could keep a comfortable distance – he didn't feel so sure about Lovino seeing the bruises around his throat.

"I'm okay," he said. "Really."

"Do you have a cold or something?" Lovino asked. "First that shirt yesterday, and now that scarf…"

"Sim, I think I'm coming down with something. Don't worry about it, okay?"

The others exchanged a look, knowing the real reason for Miguel covering his throat, but respecting his desire to not inform Lovino.

The bridge and the river are references to another 'deleted scene', so to speak. What would have happened is that Lovino would have gone to the bridge and jumped. He would be washed away by the river, and end up being washed ashore, where he would wake up, still alive. Feeling the unfairness of it all, he started making his way home, and then it would rain. When he got home, his father would have yelled at him for getting home late and for being caught in the rain, since the rain would also hide Lovino's jump into the river. This would have sent him even deeper into despair.

The story also signifies that Lovino is still bothered by the trauma he went through, and even though there's a bit of hope, he's still not confident that he'll be free. He at least acknowledged that his bullies would never be getting away with any of that again.

My language teachers actually suggested the estimation wordcount. And if you have like 400 words to write, you're not going to waste your time by counting every single word. I also had one teacher who said that you can't get more than ten words in a line. Right… Tell that to my 17-word average. I think my record is about 23 words. Let's just say, I was so glad when they stopped saying 'write x lines about…'. No. That is hell for someone with a small handwriting. To give you an idea about my handwriting… I can use a single line of Irish margins. And the top of the letters doesn't even reach the top of the space. Writing on a blackboard is not in the cards for me.

Also, let's take a moment to appreciate the irony of spending Freedom Day in lockdown.