Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

A/n1: Some of you might wonder how I'm able to write all those words in just a week's time. Like, don't I have a job, don't I have homework to do?
Yes, I do have work, and yes, I do have homework – but as a Saturday-mailwoman, I don't have to work a lot aside from weekends and vacations (sadly enough). Also, I only have two school days in a whole week, so I have plenty of time to do my homework and write chapters.
However, my parents don't want me to linger around the house like this. They want me to get an extra job, so I can make myself money and the like – and I understand, but A: I'm too old to work in a shop (if you're older than 18, they'll practically laugh you in the face) and B: I'm going to work as an assistant-teacher in November on Wednesday, so what the hell am I supposed to say when I DO have the luck to get a job interview? 'Thanks for inviting me, I'm very grateful you seem interested in me, but please remember I'll only be able to work on Thursday and Friday starting from November'? Not very likely they'll pick me after that, huh?
Also, if I find more work, I'll probably won't be able to update regularly anymore. Then again – I will be able to work on my own personal development. Plus, I AM a grown-up, I should work a lot more than I'm currently doing.
So yeah. I have many, many mixed feelings about the current happenings in my life.

A/n2: Each and every narrator in this fic has his or her own break-sign. For Lovino, it's \0o0/ and for Antonio, it's /0o0\. Sometimes you might notice the break-sign, sometimes not – if a character only gets to speak in the beginning of the chapter, directly followed by another narrator, you never get to see the first speaker's break-sign.
Anyway, can you guess who the narrator is for this chapter? And what his break-sign stands for (fairly easy and not very imaginative, but still, bonus points for those who know the answers)?

A/n3: This was a very heavy chapter to write. I felt so sad after having written the last words, I almost started to cry – and I never cry over something I've written.
Sorry for this very depressing chapter. But really, this is the limit. It's not getting any worse, I promise.
Starting from next week's chapter, things are going to get better again. Please trust me, okay?

~~ And Three Makes Five ~~

Chapter 68:

If you want to know what love is, have a child.
If you want to know what pain is, bury him.
Giannina Braschi
(Puerto Rican poet, novelist and essayist)

It was pretty late in the evening when the last members of the PPSS – or whatever the name of that creepy organization was – finally gave up and left Mr. Romano and Mr. Spain's House. For now.

We knew this, because we (the kids, Stefano and I) heard them curse and leave the House after one last and very lousy check-up in the hallway.

The hallway? Seriously? Did they really believe we'd hide ourselves in the hallway?

Well, we weren't. No. Instead, we all were hiding underneath the remains of a wrecked bed in the spare bedroom – how hard could it be to find us, right? They had even walked into the room a little while ago and really, they could have spotted Stefano's burly legs right away if they had just paid a bit more attention to the bed.

But they didn't, because they're not only mean guys but impatient meanguys as well, and so they never succeeded into finding the five of us – and therefore, they never succeeded into taking Mia away from Matteo, or Luisa's fairytale-book, or the rubbery axe that was Alejo's.

So that meant… that meant we won this round! Hurrah! What a relief!

Maybe this meant we could finally sit back and relax now. After all, we had been busy opposing those freaks for hours now.

AHD

It had all happened around noon, shortly after Mr. Romano and Mr. Spain had left. While I was preparing a light lunch for the kids and my lovely Stefanito and I (just like a family!~), the doorbell rung. Stefano, who had been cleaning the living room, answered the door.

There was a whole, suspiciously-clad team standing on the doorstep. When I came to check what was going on, I was just in time to hear the chef of the team tell Stefano that they were from the PPSS and that they had some orders to follow.

'What orders,' Stefano had asked as he blocked the door with his broad and manly appearance.

'Orders that are none of your business,' the main-man had scoffed at him and wanted to push him out of the way, but I was faster and rubbed my buttery knife of justice into the man's face (it wasn't sharp or big, it actually was kind of small and useless even, but I still though I was pretty cool), huffing that we had been given orders as well, and that we sure as heck wouldn't let a bunch of weird-looking jerks wander around our friends' House as they pleased!

I had expected Stefano to swoon a little bit and say 'ohh Ángel ohh why you so heroic gosh golly', but all he did was giving me this sarcastic 'did you just really smear butter on that man's face' –look that kind of caught me off guard.

However! The blunt, yet still very buttery knife must have looked pretty intense anyway, because the guy in black working clothes gave in and finally gave us a rushed explanation, a strange note and some sort of identification-badge.

…of course, neither one of those things made much sense to us.

'Look,' Stefano had told the guy while he made himself even bigger and broader than he already was, 'I really don't give a single fuck about the "orders" of some crazy organization I've never heard about. I'm here to babysit the kids of my fiancé's friends – not to allow some shady group of weirdoes to fucking plunder their damn House when they feel like it. So I suggest you and your little friends over there turn the fuck around and get lost.'

My, Stefano was so cool!~

Unfortunately enough, the PPSS-crew wasn't amused nor intimidated by him or his warnings and at a certain point, while they kept talking to us in the doorway, other members broke into the House in all kinds of ways: one minute I heard Luisa screaming as a guy in black hurried out of the bedroom upstairs, his arms filled with fluffy teddybears and other animals, and a moment later I heard another scream – coming from a guy who had been so stupid to try and pry Alejo's axe from him. I had expected Alejo to lash out on him, but I hadn't expected to see him roaring and sprinting after the poor man with a real axe – the one that had been hanging on the wall just a second ago.

So Stefano and I got distracted – they're already inside, but how's that possible, oh wait, they broke the windows and the door in the back's not locked either – and then we lost all control over the situation. It looked like we were facing an intelligent criminal organization here, after all.

In the end, we sarcified most of the stuff they were carrying out of the House – really unusual things, by the way, it seemed like they only took away the toys and stuff that belonged to the children. We both had forgotten all about the silly explanation of the thieves' chef already, so we had no idea why they wanted to yoink away Matteo's coloring books but to leave the antique paintings where they were. I mean, how much did they expect to get for Matteo's chaotic scribbling?

Anyway, we dashed to the kids, who had just woken up from their slumber, took them and the items they held with us, and with that, an intense game of tag-versus-hide-and-seek started.

Matteo was terrified and kept on crying, while Alejo wanted to fight and Luisa tried to think of a suitable escape-plan. But we didn't have time to cry and we didn't want to flee, and Stefano and I also didn't feel like releasing Alejo in the hopes he'd chase them all off (although that kid was brutal, he had actually bitten one of the intruders till the guy's hand started bleeding), so instead of all that, we hid ourselves and hoped they wouldn't find us.

We first thought they were after the kids, that they wanted to kidnap them or something – but just like before, they only kept yelling things like "we just want the cactus" or "give us the book!" and "hand that axe over – the fake one!", and Stefano and I really didn't know what to think about that.

Eventually, we decided they were insane and needed to be avoided at all costs, so of course they didn't get the kids' precious book, plant and toy. I mean, they could find and attack us! So we told the kids to be very, very quiet and keep their items close to them.

'No! Let me go! They're taking my stuff!' Alejo complained, while Stefano pulled him back to the wooden remains of the bed. 'They're stealing everything!'

'I-I wans mah papa's!' Matteo cried, tears streaming over his scratched cheeks as he pressed Mia against his face some more. 'I-I'm… I'm scawewd!'

Luisa didn't say much at all, she was silently sitting in a corner and turned the pages of her book. She seemed to be alright, but her hands were trembling in fear and her face was wet from her tears.

…

…

Okay that's IT.

I raised from the floor and wanted to storm outside, to… to… to kick some butts and such! How dare they making the kids cry – how… how dare they!

But Stefano simply yanked my coat from behind, told me to not do anything stupid, ordered all of us to sit under the bed and behave ourselves for the time being and promised us everything was going to be alright.

'I swear,' he muttered as he protectively swung an arm around Luisa's shivering body, 'I'll fucking smash them to pieces if they try to take your book, your Mia or your very disturbing toy away from you. I swear I will – you got that? You believe me?'

His snarling, nagging and swearing voice seemed to have a soothing effect on the kids. The three of them looked at him in amazement and nodded, as if they wanted to tell him they believed in him.

'And I'll join him!' I bravely whispered to them as well, 'I'll protect you and return you to your fathers perfectly fine – just like I had promised them!'

The kids giggled. I was happy I had cheered them up a bit, I think, but why did they laugh?

'Not to be mean or anything,' Stefano smirked, 'but I think I'm a bit more impressive than your scrawny ass, Ángel.'

'Yea, and yous got no yucky facey hair,' Matteo pointed out.

Well! I was offended, naturally! 'I'm just as impressive as Stefano and his beard – combined!'

'Yer bleeding,' Alejo dryly said – and oh my god, he was right – my arm was cut! But how! When had this happened! How could this abysmal happening have… happened! Shock and terror!

'You smacked into the doorpost when Beard Guy grabbed you,' Luisa said.

I made a scene, but not a loud one and one that was half-hearted, because I had noticed the kids loved to laugh at other people's misfortune. I didn't want to encourage them to learn that laughing at others' misery was a good thing to do, but this was an emergency – so I let them laugh at me and joke around as much as they wanted.

It helped, thankfully, because they did calm down. They didn't even yelp when the PPSS-creeps came to check on the room and they even started to cheer and dance when it became clear they left and we had actually successfully overcome the evil invasion.

All in all – Stefano and I had done well.

…

I just hoped Mr. Spain and Mr. Romano wouldn't get too mad if they saw the damage that the PPSS and the five of us had done to the House during the attack…

AHD

So we ate lunch, and after we had had our lunch, we thought it wouldn't hurt to at least try to fix things up.

It was difficult to clean the House, though, because the kids didn't want to leave our side. Alejo speculated that they could come back any minute, Luisa kept on frowning and trembling and Matteo clenched both Mia and my pants' leg for his dear life. They were afraid, of course, and that was only normal – I'd be scared to death as well if some strangers had broken into my house and took away all of my belongings. All while my parents were away from home, too!

So we didn't groan about it. We just kept on cleaning and did our best to keep the kids busy at the same time. For example, it was a good decision of Stefano to let Luisa mop the entire hallway while he himself attempted to fix the walls there: the girl loved having a lot of responsibility. And Matteo was very good at informing us where the fallen items needed to be put. And it was very helpful of Alejo to make sure the broken stuff stayed broken.

…

Yeah I didn't really understand why he kept… punching away at that ripped pillow either, but we all needed to relief our stress every once in a while, right?

Anyway, all went relatively well, especially when you take everything that had happened today already in consideration, and I just wanted to ask Stefano if we could take a break to get the kids dressed already (it was already late in the afternoon and they still hobbled around in their PJ's), when my cell phone started to ring.

I put down the vacuum cleaner and answered it. 'Hello, Ángel her—'

'Ángel.'

My heart jumped bit in surprise. 'Oh. Grand…grandpa? Is that you?'

'Yes. Listen, you have to—'

'Grandpa! It IS you! I-I'm so glad to hear from you! God, it's been so long since the last time we talked! I've missed talking to you, you know – oh! Stefano and I should come visit you soon! If… if you're not mad at me anymore, of course.'

'…'

'Grandpa?'

'I'm not mad at you.'

'But…' I hesitated. 'Grandpa, no offence, but… you've been ignoring my calls for months now. So I figured…'

He sighed. 'I was just busy with something. You figured wrong. Okay? You figured wrong. But it's not like a moron like you to do anything right anyway, so never mind that.'

I chuckled and turned to a curious-looking Stefano for a moment. 'It's grandpa! He's actually talking to me!'

Stefano smiled skeptically. 'Talking, huh? You sure you don't mean nagging?'

'Does it matter? I'm so happy! He's being all cranky and unreasonable again!~ He's even calling me moron!'

'Score,' Stefano muttered – and continued picking up the pieces of a crushed cabinet.

'Ángel!' Grandpa all of a sudden snarled. 'I don't have time for your stupid jokes and what not – I've got something important to tell you, for crying out loud!'

'Really?' My grin grew even broader. 'Y-you have got something important – to tell me? How lovely!'

My grandfather didn't really replied to that, nor did he curse of smack the horn down, like he usually did when a conversation started to bore him. He did growl, though.

'Ángel. Please listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you. Your future and that of others depend on it. Maybe you should sit down.'

…

My grin was slowly beginning to fade. Something was wrong.

'What?' I mumbled, sitting down on a chair in the kitchen. 'Grandpa, what's… what's the matter? What's going on? Is something going to happen?'

'No, Ángel.' Grandpa paused and uttered another sigh. 'Something has happened.'

AHD

Twenty minutes later, I was still sitting on that same chair in the kitchen. My limbs were all shaking and my phone laid on the ground – I had dropped it as soon as my grandfather had given me his urgent message. My eyes were twitching as I simply didn't blink anymore and kept on gazing at the wall on the other side of the room.

My head was still buzzing from grandpa's words. About the PPSS, about the children, about the personifications and about the fact that the kids needed to be cruelly cut out of their lives – their lives, their memories and their hearts.

By…

B-by me…?

I was the one who was going to adopt Mr. Spain and Mr. Romano's children? I was the bastard that would… that would snatch their precious kids away from them? I know that's what grandpa had told me to do – he even got angry with me when I stammered I didn't feel like cooperating with this… this unethical, horrible plan of his – but then grandpa said that it had to be me. And Stefano. There just wasn't any other option.

'Those three kids – I bet they've grown quite fond of you over the past few weeks, huh? And I'm sure they'll like that huge Italian of yours as well.'

I had felt my chest tightening, just when my forehead started to form deep, worried wrinkles.

'You… you manipulated me.'

Grandpa pretended he didn't hear me and rambled on about my responsibility, about the fact that Mr. Spain and Mr. Romano were now counting on me and Stefano, that they were alright with it – as far as parents were alright with getting separated from their kids – and besides, I shouldn't moan, I should be happy, because hey – at least Stefano and I would get what we wanted now, didn't we?

'…what?' I had asked, bewildered.

'This is what you two homo's wanted.' Grandpa snorted. 'You wanted all that normal couples can have, didn't you? Getting married, having a family of your own – now you can have all that. You can adopt three kids! Three! You better be grateful to me, you dweeb.'

'Grandpa.' I coughed out a harsh, fake laugh. 'You… you are taking the kids of your nation and his lover away from them. You've tricked me into believing I was just going to be Mr. Spain's doctor. You're forcing three unusual, vocal and somewhat difficult kids upon me and Stefano, and you're forcing them to accept me and Stefano as their new parents. Just like that.'

'What's your point?' Grandpa had huffed.

'Why, grandpa? Just… just… why?'

There had been a long, uncomfortable silence on the other side of the line. I could hear him clearing his throat and humming inaudible words.

'This… is what you wanted. You wanted kids. I found a way to give you them.'

'Grandpa!'

'I had no choice!' Grandpa's voice was raspy and anxious. 'It was a miracle I could even convince that son-of-a-bitch Pita to give the kids to actual parents! Did you know he wanted to kill them? Was I supposed to just sit back and allow him to off innocent children? Well I didn't want to!'

'Couldn't you find other parents!' I was shouting at this point. 'Why did it have to be Stefano and me – just because we wanted children of our own? Have you never thought about what we would feel about stealing kids away from their parents – parents that are my… my friends? Do you have any idea how twisted that sounds? If your friends had taken away mom from you, to raise her as if she was their own daughter and made her believe you never existed as her dad in the first place, and you had no other choice than to accept that… wouldn't you hate them?'

'I hate everybody anyway.'

'Goddammit, grandpa – cut the crap!' I hissed and ran a hand through my hair, infuriated. 'You know what I mean!'

'You wanted kids,' Grandpa murmured again. 'You—'

'You think that would make everything better, grandpa?' I breathed in deeply. 'Giving me kids? Like putting a cryptic band-aid to the soul?'

Grandpa had no answer to that.

'You could have made things better by answering my calls. By giving me a friendly word every now and then. Or… or simply by accepting me for who I am.'

Grandpa made a gasping sound. 'W-wait, Ángel, you don't get it, I do accept y—'

'And NOT,' I continued, since he never let me finish my sentences either, 'by "arranging" three adoptable kids for me, brutally taken away from my friends. Even if what you're saying is true, is still doesn't justify your selfish, manipulative and downright laughable goals.'

'Ángel, no, I—!'

'I don't ever want to speak to you again.'

And I hung up.

…

Oh god. God god god…

I bent over, collected my aching head in my hands and rocked myself back and forth, back and forth, my heart pounding furiously and my eyes burning.

Now what?

What was I supposed to do now?

What was I possibly supposed to do now, for Christ's sake!...

AHD

It was evening. The kids, who had wanted to stay up until their fathers had returned home from, drowsily watched some television while I discussed the information my grandfather had told me with Stefano.

'We'll do it,' he said.

'S-Stefano!' I gave him a shocked and startled look – and hastily glanced over to the kids, still sitting in front of the television a few meters away from the table he and I were sitting at. 'You can't be serious – you just can't be serious!'

'But I am.' Stefano plucked his hairy chin and his cool, blue eyes looked confident and clear. 'It's the best thing to do. Plus, I like them. They're great kids. So yes, Ángel – we'll adopt them. We'll be the best adoptive parents they could ever get.'

I quivered. 'B-but it's wrong, Stefano… my grandfather, he—'

Stefano calmly raised a hand to shush me. 'I know your grandfather is a crazy old coot that can't ever do something nice normally and I know he is a naïve, manipulative bastard that thinks he can do as he pleases as long as it's right – according to what he believes is right. But you have to admit he did it for you, Ángel. His love for you made him decide we should be the kids' next parents.'

I pursed my lips. 'I still don't—'

'Also, you should stop your hypocritical act already and admit you're actually happy about this.'

My treacherous heart skipped a beat and my palms got sweaty – sweaty because of my hard, unforgiving feelings of shame and guilt. I grunted helplessly, fisted my hands and wanted to snap at him, but – but I couldn't.

'I'm horrible…' I gasped under my breathe, '…I-I'm the worst…'

'Ángel…' Stefano sighed and put one of his big hands over one of my clammy fists, '…it's okay. You don't have to force yourself to be unhappy with the news we're going to be these wonderful kids' parents. I know you adore them – and they adore you. You are the perfect replacement father.'

'Damn it, Stefano – it's not like we're replacing their goldfish here!' I bit at him, raising my head with a jolt. 'I'm not their real father! And neither are you! We'll never be their real fathers!'

'Do you hear me denying that?' Stefano smiled a bit, though I could barely tell. 'That's right, Ángel. We can't be their real fathers. That's a fact. We should accept we can't ever reach that goal. But that doesn't mean we can't try and become the next best thing.'

Tears were dripping from my face now and I panted softly, wiping my eyes with my free hand. 'B-but Stefano… Mr. Spain and Mr. Romano… they'll never forgive us. They'll hate us. They'll—'

'We'll only fucking hate you if you have the goddamn nerve to refuse to take care of them, you wimpy dork.'

I swallowed the remains of the sentence I wanted to say and stared at the two figures standing in the living room. I never even had heard them slip into the room, even though I should have heard it: the kids were running around their feet and shouting delighted cries constantly.

'Mr. Romano,' I whispered as the South Italian man lifted Luisa up and gave me a questioning, even slightly bored look. 'W-when did you…'

'We arrived just now,' Mr. Spain answered, grinning at his two grinning sons before focusing his green eyes on me. 'Sorry for sneaking up to you like this but, um… you two didn't seem to hear us say we're back. Or the noisy group-attack the kids instantly executed upon seeing us. Anyway, we just got back from the meeting, the PPSS was "kind" enough to drive us back home. They even drove our car for us.'

Mr. Romano made a face. 'Pssssh, as if we couldn't fucking drive anymore – please. I'm the personification of South Italy, I can do practically everything.'

Mr. Spain chuckled. 'You were still kind of paralyzed, my love.'

'Details, Antonio, mere details.' Mr. Romano handwaved his comment away. 'I could drive that car with my sheer mind if I wanted to and you know I'm right.'

'Ah. So you just didn't want to.'

'That's right – and you better watch that sassy ass, you bastard. Something might happen to it if you're not careful enough.'

I observed the joking Mr. Romano and laughing Mr. Spain (and their kids, still gleefully wiggling around in their arms) in bewilderment.

Uh…

Maybe it was just me, but I found this situation very confusing and weird. Watching Mr. Spain and Mr. Romano interact with us, the children and each other like nothing terrible had just happened, like they really had returned from just another ordinary, boring meeting, was… well, it felt unreal. Because it wasn't real. They had gotten extremely bad news today, and yet… I was so confused, I even shot looks at Stefano that asked him if he knew what on Earth was going on. Stefano sent me just as puzzled looks back.

'So anyway,' Mr. Spain then said, while Alejo excitedly pulled his hair, 'we'll be back in a moment, okay? We'll bring the kids to bed first – then we can talk. Is that alright?'

The look Mr. Spain gave me for some reason gave me goosebumps, and not the good kind. He was still having that warm, friendly smile on his face, but it seemed off. Same story with Mr. Romano's facial expression. They both appeared to be perfectly fine… but there was more behind their smiles. A lot more. And I wasn't sure if I wanted to find out what that was.

'We'll be right back,' Mr. Romano said, and the family of five walked off. The last thing I saw before they disappeared behind a wall was Luisa tugging on a necklace dangling from Mr. Romano's neck impatiently, while all he did was grin and promise her she'd get it back as soon as she had told him all about her and the boys' adventures this day.

Stefano and I kept quiet, until we heard their loud voices and footsteps going up the stairs. They didn't seem to see or mind the destruction to their furniture yet. Was it because they didn't care much about the villa anyway, or was it because they actually knew what had happened and were happy enough to see the House was still intact?

Anyway, while Mr. Spain and Mr. Romano were upstairs, Stefano said he'd prepare some tea and coffee. By telling me this, he indirectly made it clear to me that I should calm down already and realize that my friends wanted us to adopt their kids – Mr. Romano had even said it.

But I didn't know.

I just didn't know…

This situation was all wrong. Also, I wasn't sure I still wanted to become Mr. Spain's personal doctor if I was going to get his and Mr. Romano's children. Maybe I should become his doctor, as a punishment for myself – that'll teach me to raise kids that were taken away from a very nice personification that had wanted to be a father himself. But what good would that do?

'Still stressing out, aren't you,' Stefano gently said as he put down a mug of coffee in front of me, and sat down again.

'This is all so weird, Stefano…' I sighed and enclosed my hands around the mug. 'Is this really the right thing to do? Will it really be okay? Isn't this going too fast – aren't we underestimating what's it like to get three kids, all at once? I once read in a magazine that every child you raise costs as much as a house… and think about all the problems we could face…'

'Ángel, we already had this discussion when we decided to adopt, four months ago. Remember?' Stefano gave me a stern, but also consoling look. 'We know it's going to be heavy. Whether it's one kid we raise or three – or sixteen, for all it matters. It's always harder than it seems. But that's okay. We can do it. I'm sure we can.'

His soothing words and admirable determination made me feel a bit better and I gave him a small smile. I had wanted to ask him more – I had wanted to be comforted by him more – but right then, we heard Mr. Spain and Mr. Romano descending the stairs in the hallway. That meant they were coming back, so… it probably would be better to save my worries for later.

When they entered the living room again, I turned on my chair somewhat, a coy smile playing around my lips as I opened my mouth to greet them.

But before I could even utter a single letter, Mr. Romano all of a sudden dashed towards me, his eyes watery and his cheeks bright red, and gave me an incredible hard punch in the face.

WHAM!

It sent me and the mug flying right off my seat.

'You asshole,' he panted out, while Mr. Spain hastily grabbed him from behind and a just as startled Stefano jumped up to shield me from the furious Italian, 'you-you fucking weakling.'

I slowly got up, wincing when I felt my left eye was starting to swell up a bit. It hurt so much – I had never been punched in the face before, so… so this was…

'You… you're going to take care of them, y-you hear,' Mr. Romano's desperately hissed sentence waltzed over my baffled thoughts, as he struggled against Mr. Spain's strong grip and attempted to kick Stefano out of the way with one of his wobbly legs, 'I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses, I don't want to hear you whine about what's good or not – you are going to take care of my children, and if you don't, or if you do a lousy job at it… I'll… I'll…'

'Calm down, Lovi,' Mr. Spain urgently told him, signaling to Stefano with his eyes to watch out for Mr. Romano's hysterical kicking. 'He's just – hnf! – he's just scared, sweetie, he's just—'

'I'll fucking kill you,' Romano literally spit out the words in my face, since he had somehow managed to push Stefano out of the way. 'I'll kill you if you do a lousy job at raising them – you hear me? I don't care if they're going to erase my memories, or their memories, or even your stupid memories – give me the faintest idea you're going to suck as their new father, and I'll haunt you down. I'll find you and end you. I swear I will. They're our kids. They're precious to us. T-they're…'

'Lovino – Lovino, please…' Mr. Spain bit his lips and fought back tears, I noticed. He never loosened his arms around Mr. Romano's body, though, since the latter was still shaking with anger, no matter how much he cried.

Stefano swallowed. 'Mr. South Italy, y-you—'

'No! Shut the fuck up – he has to promise me!' Mr. Romano yelled, his brown-green eyes still glaring at me with all their might. 'Promise me you'll do a good job – you… y-you have to…goddammit, you…'

'I promise,' I suddenly said. I had gotten up from the ground now and stood right in front of Mr. Romano, so he could punch, kick or even scratch my eyes out if he wanted to. For some reason, I now felt very calm and collected. The desperation in Mr. Romano's eyes, his refusal to accept my half-hearted feelings as the truth and his firm trust in me had made me come to my conclusion.

'Ángel…' Stefano muttered, while both Mr. Spain and Mr. Romano stared at me and waited.

'I'm sorry for my immature whining. I also apologize for not realizing sooner than you want me to take care of your children. And I hereby swear that… that both Stefano and I – we'll do our best. We'll do the best we can to make sure Alejo, Matteo and Luisa will have a good life. It may be hard after watching me panic, but… but please, Mr. Romano – and you too, Mr. Spain… trust me if I tell you we'll do all we can to make your children happy.'

'You… you love them?' Mr. Romano asked, between sobs and soft, sad whines.

I breathed in sharply, trying to avoid any tears from streaming over my face since it would hurt my left eye, and nodded. 'I do.'

'Then prove it.' Mr. Romano licked his lips. 'Prove it to me, for the following 80-90 years. Even if we don't see you trying hard. Even if we don't know you're trying hard.'

I felt a lump forming in my throat, but ignored it and nodded again.

'I swear I will, Mr. Romano. I promise.'

'Same here,' Stefano said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. 'I'll do my best to take care of them – all of them, Ángel included. You can count on me.'

'Thank you,' Mr. Romano said, right before his knees gave in and he sank down on the floor. 'T-thank you… thank you very mu… fuck.'

Then Mr. Romano burst out in tears, for real now, and if Mr. Spain hadn't pushed his face into his chest and held him as closely and as tightly as he could, I think the sounds of his lover's heartbroken crying had echoed through the entire building, through the entire street, making everybody who heard it feel like weeping and cradling themselves in their loved one's arms as well.

Mr. Romano's loud, unashamed and beautifully ugly crying continued for what seemed hours – but when Mr. Spain all of a sudden remarked that Mr. Romano had apparently cried himself to sleep, thanks to all the stress, tension and messed-up, complicated feelings the day had brought them, just thirty minutes seemed to have passed.

'It's happening tomorrow evening,' Mr. Spain softly said as he picked Mr. Romano up and held him in his arms. 'Blanca – I mean, a random PPSS-member told us. Tomorrow evening, the kids and Lovi and I will be picked up by two different white vans. One of dr. Tosca's assistants will be the one that's going to erase my and Lovino's memories – we'll be put in one of the vans. Alejo, Matteo and Luisa are going to be picked up by Guiller… by your grandfather, in the other van. I understood you and Mr. Constinello—'

'Stefano is fine,' Stefano instantly said.

Mr. Spain smiled thankfully at him. '…you and… Stefano are supposed to be here tomorrow evening as well: you are going to go with the kids, so you can be there for them right after their memories have been wiped. Also, I… I think the kids will feel a lot more at ease if you and Stefano are there with them. I-I really don't want them to be scared…'

'Mr. Spain,' I started, 'what… what are you going to tell them? Are you going to tell the children about what's going to happen?'

Their memories are going to be erased anyway so why not, was what I had wanted to say… but Mr. Spain didn't need to actually hear those words to know what I meant.

He smiled sadly and shook his head. 'Lovi… Lovi and I actually talked about that on the way back. He wanted to tell the kids the truth. He didn't want to lie to them. He's a very honest person, you know?' Mr. Spain's lips started to tremble. 'He's so kind. He wants to be honest, even if it kills him. But I could talk him out of that. I told him it would be better if we'd just have one last, great day with the kids tomorrow instead, and tell them we'd all get another stupid, unimportant but still very much needed check-up later that evening. They'd leave us without knowing they'll… t-they'll have forgotten all about us tomorrow.'

'Mr. S-Spain…' I stuttered.

'Antonio.' He smiled at me, even though his face cried as much as Mr. Romano's entire body had. 'P-please.'

'A-Antonio.' I gulped. 'I-I really hope you're not angry with me. I—'

'Hernández – no, Ángel. If someone has to look after our kids, it's you. You're a good man. A nice guy. I trust you.' He looked at Stefano as well. 'And you too, of course, Stefano. Sorry if Lovino made you think that only Ángel's actions matter – your cooperation is very much wanted as well. Ángel needs you and our kids need a second parent as well. I… I really hope we can count on you.'

Stefano huffed and folded his arms. 'That's what I promised your noisy lover. You didn't catch that? I sure as hell will take my responsibility, you Spanish dipshit.'

On the verge of tears or not – Mr. Spain… I mean, Antonio, still had to snort upon hearing that.

'Alright then – I believe in you!'

Stefano smirked. 'You better be.'

'Now that we've talked about this, can I ask you two a favor now?'

'O-of course!' I said. 'Whatever you want, Antonio, whatever you could possibly think of!'

Antonio looked at me and Stefano in turns. His smile faded away, his eyes became dull and strange, his lips squeezed together tightly until all you could see was a thin line.

'Please get out. Let us be. Leave. Right now. And don't come back until tomorrow evening.'

I could feel the blood rushing in my ears in shock – h-he was angry with me after all? – and wanted to stammer excuses and what-not to try and convince him I really hadn't wanted – I really didn't like—

'Let's go,' Stefano quietly interrupted my proverbal thoughts and his hand found mine. Before I could think of something to stop him and to say to Antonio, Stefano was pulling me off the chair, right behind him.

I let him, but I couldn't stop looking behind me, at Antonio and Mr. Romano, still standing in front of the table Stefano and I had been sitting at just a couple of seconds ago.

I had hoped Antonio would give me some sort of message – a sign things were alright between us, despite all of this, but all I saw was his back, his lowered head and Mr. Romano's limp arms and legs, slightly moving.

It was a sight I'd never forget.

AHD

I experienced the next day as one big nightmare.

I didn't sleep a wink, I barely ate and I was a wreck at work. I made wrong diagnoses, I sent elderly people to the children's section and I wrapped a lady's entire face in a dressing – while she only came to ask me for a cold medicine. Eventually, when I was about to tell some tourists that they should treat their sun burns with baking oil, my supervisor suggested me to take a few days off work to rest.

He thought I was on the verge of having a burn-out, but oh, how wrong he was…

When I came home, I was all alone – Stefano had to work in his garage, so of course I was all alone, it was just a regular working day – and I kept thinking about Antonio, and Mr. Romano, and their three kids. What would they be doing on this last, final day they were a family? Would they smile and laugh through the whole day, even though their hearts were shattered in pieces? Would they hug and kiss their children a lot, knowing that they were unable to ever do that again after tonight? Would they tell them they loved them, no matter what happened, no matter when?

It teared me apart. Knowing what kind of day Antonio and his lover would have… it physically hurt me so much…

I was the bad guy. The reason their cute family would no longer exist after today. The source of all evil.

Because I looked forward for it.

I…

I couldn't wait to come and pick up the kids, to press them to my chest, to love and cherish them as if they were my own and for them to forget all about their former dads.

That's right. No matter how much Antonio and Mr. Romano were suffering, I couldn't wait for this last happy day for them to end.

It made me feel so dirty. No. Not just "feel" – I was dirty. I was no better than my grandfather. Not one bit.

To escape from the confronting loneliness I found at home, I went to diverse big shops and department stores, to prepare Stefano and my place for the three kids that would grace us with their existence starting from this evening. I bought beds, toys that were completely different from the toys the PPSS-members had taken away from the kids, child-proof furniture, funny posters, candy, books, cuddle pets and… and all that I could afford, with my salary.

Which was a lot.

Then I went back home, to wait for the truck with stuff to arrive, and to walk through the house to look and see where the new habitants of this house would have their bedroom. Oh! I could use the attic – it was big and spacious, and I had air-conditioning, even way up there, so even during Summer, the kids wouldn't mind it!

Yes! And I could prepare the room a bit… and make sure the sharp and pointy objects were stashed away properly… and have yummy foods like peanut-butter and Nutella in the cabinets…

I was so busy that I didn't even hear Stefano come back home. He let his bag and his jaw fall down in amazement when he discovered what I had done already. The house was a mess – I for example didn't know what to do with the junk I got from the attic – and there were lots of heavy or fluffy things that still needed to be thought about and sorted out, but Stefano told me he was proud of me.

It made me feel a little bit better. Not much, but still a bit.

Stefano helped me move and organize the most important things, and after that, it was time. I knew it was time, because I had been staring at my watch every five minutes during that last hour. I was so psyched, I even let the bed that was supposed to become Alejo's fall down, almost smashing Stefano's toe to a pulp.

I was excited when we eventually stepped into my (cleaned-up, kid-proof) car. It was a very strange sensation, but… but I was. I was happy and upbeat and I even made jokes with Stefano, about how the kids would pull his beard if he didn't consider getting rid of it. Stefano wasn't exactly sad either – he laughed at my jokes and made plans for the weekend, and fantasized which one of the kids would like to take over his business in the future. We were shameless, really. We were.

But all changed when we arrived at Antonio's House, and noticed the two vans, parked neatly just around the corner.

It was like somebody stomped me in the stomach.

We also noticed Antonio and Mr. Romano, standing outside their House, talking to both Dr. Tosca's assistant and my grandfather, while Alejo, Matteo and Luisa looked at the cars surrounding their soon-to-be former House in excitement. Matteo was the first to notice me and Stefano, and grinned widely, crying out my name as he awkwardly walked our way.

I literally had to clasp my own mouth to keep myself from hurling.

It was a good thing Stefano had already parked the car, because he, too, suddenly realized what was about to happen – what we were about to do, and dug his nails into his broad legs while thick, confused tears dripped over his hairy cheeks.

We needed to get our act together, though – we couldn't cry! We had no right to cry! So both Stefano and I collected ourselves, gave each other one last, supportive squeeze in the shoulder, and then we got out.

I was happy Matteo was willing to believe Stefano had been crying because a fly had flown into his eye.

AHD

Antonio and Mr. Romano greeted the both of us with friendly, relieved smiles, while Dr. Tosca's assistant and my grandfather didn't do much more than give us an acknowledging nod of the head. There were four to six PPSS-members walking around the garden as well, but luckily, they didn't intervene or tried to rush things – they just were there, to do… whatever they were planning to do, if things went wrong at the last minute.

I tried not to look at the suspicious weapons the PPSS-members were wielding as Stefano and I tried to start a light, breezy conversation with Antonio and Mr. Romano.

'So,' I said, a pang shooting through me when I noticed Mr. Romano's red, puffy and slightly inflamed eyes, '…how… how are you doing? Did you have a nice day?'

'It was great,' Mr. Romano answered, his voice rough and almost breaking. 'We went to a playground close-by. Luisa took a dump in the sandbox, Matteo lost Mia about fifty times and Alejo locked up some annoying neighborhood-kids in a treehouse. We had to apologize to at least twelve parents, pay a fee and buy new bandages. Fucking demons.'

He immediately rubbed his eyes before they could leak, irritating his them even more. It made my own black, still sensitive eye sting as well.

'And we're still out of bandages,' Antonio continued, laughing even though he was shaking like a leaf, 'because Matteo needed them every time he found Mia back and hugged her in celebration. You better check those wounds later tonight.'

'I-I will,' I muttered. Then I got silent. I didn't know what to say. I didn't even had a clue what to think. In all honesty, I wanted to flee. I didn't even know where to – I just felt like running for my life, until nobody could see me or find me back anymore.

Fortunately, Stefano was a lot better at talking in difficult situations, and he, seemingly effortlessly, babbled on to Antonio and Mr. Romano about how we had prepared our house, and the furniture, and the toys, and he managed to make them snicker a bit when he told them all about the bandages and stuffed away sharp items. Mr. Romano's face got a bit more colorful when Stefano talked about all the books he had bought for Luisa.

'Don't… don't just read old, well-known stories to them,' he softly said. 'Tell them new ones as well. Make them curious, make them laugh, make them wonder about the impossible.'

'They're weird kids,' Antonio added. 'They like weird things. Please keep that in mind – always.'

It was a strange, awkward conversation. They rattled about things we shouldn't forget while getting ripped up from the inside more and more, with every passing moment, and we listened, nodded and promised.

Meanwhile, the kids watched.

They watched.

They frowned.

They thought.

And they suddenly weren't all that lively anymore.

They quietly stood by their parents, gently holding on to their pants, not uttering a single word. Antonio and his lover noticed, and I saw they did the best they can to make the kids believe that that what was going to inevitably happen was just a minor, silly, short thing – just a check-up, just a dumb, but temporary pause in their family life – but I think…

…I think the kids knew.

They knew something bad was going to happen.

You can't fool kids, no matter how young they are. Starting from the age of 2, kids can see when their parents are in pain. Starting from the age of 3, kids can come to the outrageous conclusion they might be the source of their parents' suffering. When they get 4 years old, they are able to form friendships and play with, and not next to other kids – although even younger kids can learn to play like this, too, if they have older siblings that play with them a lot.

And starting from the age 3 to 4, kids are able to remember.

They're not stupid. They're not naïve. They're not blind.

'It's time,' my grandfather, who had been carefully avoiding my eyes, suddenly said, and instantly turned around, walking back to the van he had come with. He never saw Antonio's startled expression or heard Mr. Romano's uneven, gasping way of breathing.

I… I guess it was up to me and Stefano to take the kids with us, wasn't it?

'A-a-alright!' Antonio stuttered, slowly crouching down, '…i-it's time to say goodbye for now, kiddo's! N-now… now g-give me and Papa Lovi a hug, o-okay…?'

The kids looked confusedly at him, but came at Antonio anyway and swung their short arms around him, while he showered them with kisses, hastily mumbled words and soft caresses.

'I love you. I-I love all three of you very, very much.'

'Love ya too,' Alejo muttered.

'Love tya tree!' Matteo tried to joke, though his smile never reached his eyes.

'I-I… ummn,' Luisa just mumbled.

Mr. Romano crouched down as well – and got instantly attacked to the ground when the kids pouched on him and cuddled him as tightly as they could. Though Antonio had been able to keep himself from crying, Mr. Romano, who looked downright devastated, couldn't, and he sobbed while telling the kids he loved them, over and over again, touching their cheeks, ruffling their hair and whispering he was fine, he really was fine, no no, Papa Lovi was just crying because he was allergic to air – didn't they remember? What a bunch of dummies!

'Mr. Romano.' Dr. Tosca's assistant, a blond male that most-likely was a PPSS-member as well, looked at the pained Italian neutrally. 'We're following a schedule here. Please make haste.'

I felt an incredible rage flaring up inside of me and wanted to snap at him for being so inconsiderate – but Stefano touched my arms and murmured I shouldn't. So I-I didn't. I was a coward.

'I-I-I love you, twerps.' Mr. Romano in the meantime said, his crushed smile unstable and deformed. 'And I always will… I-I always will.'

The twins stared at him with wide, unsure eyes. Still, they both replied by telling him they loved him as well. Then they wanted to wander back into the House, for some... some weird reason, but Mr. Romano gently pushed them back, shaking his head and looking over to Luisa.

But poor Luisa couldn't say it.

Just like she couldn't tell her Papa Toni, she couldn't say those three wonderful words to her other father, either.

'I… I…!' she tried, her face bright red and her eyes just as watery as her father's, 'I… I lo… I—'

'We should go,' Dr. Tosca's assistant impatiently said.

'Just let her finish already!' I snarled at him, making both Mr. Romano and Luisa jump up a bit in surprise.

'She's not going to finish, she can't.' The man shrugged. 'She's just a toddler.'

'Say one more word and I'll make you swallow your own tongue,' I growled lowly.

'It's alright.' Mr. Romano breathed in slowly and smiled lovingly at his only daughter. 'I know you love me, baby. You don't have to say it. Papa Lovi and Papa Toni know. Okay? We know.'

Then he raised from the floor, helped by Antonio, who seemed to tremble even more now.

'Follow me,' the male assistant said, and walked to one of the vans. Mr. Romano and Antonio took one last glance behind them, before obediently following him, like sleepwalkers.

'N-no!' Luisa stammered, as I took her hand and Stefano suddenly lifted the now-panicky twins, 'No, I say it, I-I say it, Papa Lovi, P-Papa Toni, I say it, I… I…!'

But nothing came out of her, nothing but stammering and failed promises.

'I'll find you!' she all of a sudden shouted, right before she and her (trashing and kicking) brothers disappeared in the other van.

Antonio and Mr. Romano, also about to enter the van, looked at her.

'I'll find you!' Luisa screamed again – slapping my hand away, but unable to run back to them since I had picked her up already. 'I'll find you, I'll find you, I'll find you and tell you, papa's, I tell you, I really will tell you!'

After hearing those words, both Antonio and Mr. Romano broke. They dropped down on the ground, finally giving in to their feelings. They covered their heads protectively, their bodies shaking and twitching in unspeakable sadness and regret as I forced myself to look away and get in grandpa's car.

I didn't know what was going to happen with my own car, but I didn't care. I merely clenched my teeth as I attempted to shut out the kids' shouting, screaming and crying behind me.

'Let's go already,' grandpa then said, when Stefano and I were seated, and he started the car, in order to bring us to our next destination – the hospital that was especially selected for this "mission". Antonio and Mr. Romano would be brought to a different one.

As we drove off, I could see a glance of the sole witness of all of this – the remains of the one that had got left behind at the very last minute and laid on the sandy ground in front of the House, ruthlessly trampled to bits.

Mia.