Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

A/n1: Starting from this chapter, the opening quotes are about parents and parenthood – not about children. You'll figure out why later.
Also, the chapters that will be written from this moment on will take place 20 years in the future. And no, we don't go back in time.

A/n2: There will be another narrator. It's just a matter of time before you'll find out who.^^

A/n3: Feel like ditching the fic because of all that has happened so awfully and cruelly? Don't want to read what's going to happen now since the rest of it is going to take place in the future? Afraid of what you might read now?
Well, try. Just try to read on. That's all I can cay.

A/n4: Also, THAT FLOOD OF REVIEWS. MY GOD. *bows* YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING.

~~ And Three Makes Five ~~

Chapter 69:

Parenting is the science of art of upbringing children.
Simon Soloveychik
(Russian writer, educator and philosopher)

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck in a trunk-fuck of fucking fuck.

A pale, purple line, right next to that black, clear one.

It was right there. Right there. No matter how hard I was laserbeam-staring at the damn test in my shaking hand – it just wouldn't go anyway. Mean, evil, fucking asshole-line of mind-fucking CRAP.

I was pregnant.

I WAS FUCKING PREGNANT. MY GOD.

Shit. I couldn't have this in my life right now. Not now everything still seemed to be so out of order and weird. Also, I had just started living with him. This was the first fucking time I lived on my own (well, with him, but still) and bam, I went and got myself pregnant, like an asshole!

I put the pregnancy test down for a second and stared down, at my awkwardly pulled-down underwear. Oh god. Ohhhhhh god. I should come out of the bathroom already and tell him. But what would he say?

…

Well he'd say he's happy. Because he's a moronic shithead that had been talking about "making a family" ever since the day he fucking fell for me. He's such a freak. He's lucky he's got a handsome face and nice haircut, because otherwise, I'd… I'd never have been attracted to him, not at all! Or… or something.

But never mind all that.

I was pregnant with his goddamn kid, and I was so confused. I was scared. I-I wasn't cut out to be a mother. Hell, I never even had a mother, so of course I wasn't suited to become one myself!

God, if only… if only Kay was still alive, or… or if I had a sister instead of stupid, dorky brothers that just derpishly flailed through their lives like brainless, floppy fish, or if only I had some sort of mother figur—

'Luu?' A knock on the door made me yelp and shoot up from the toilet so fast I almost crashed my head into the little sink – Seb's white-and-blue bathroom was way too small, he should consider renovating his ancient apartment already.

'Y-yeah?' I called back, pulling up my panties with one hand while snatching the pregnancy test off the sink with my other hand.

'What are you doing in there – did you throw up again?' I could hear he patted the door, as if he could console me right through the fucking door. What an ass.

…

'N-no, I didn't throw up,' I muttered and walked over to the door, to unlock it. The white door swung open and two bright-green eyes belonging to a tall and blond-haired man appeared. Seb was at least two heads taller than me – and a lot thinner, too, that skinny bastard – but that was alright. I liked tall men. Well. Apparently.

Anyway, I looked at him, held up the damn test and shivered.

'What's that?' He cocked his head and wanted to take it away from me, but of course I instantly pulled it close to me 'cause I had fucking PEED on it, and no way in HELL I was going to let him touch my… my… fluids. What if it smelled?

…

Oh god.

That-that sounded so gross. GOD. Why did I even THINK these words? Why? Why? No tell me – why?

'It's a damn pregnancy test, okay,' I hoarsely nagged, averting my already pricking eyes from my stupid boyfriend. 'I-I'm pregnant. I'm going to have a goddamn baby.'

'You are?' Seb asked after a short pause – he sounded calm, as always.

I swallowed and looked up at him again. 'That's what I just said, you idiot – I-I'm going to have a baby – it's yours by the way, just in case you had the fucking guts to wonder about that – and… and…'

He shook his head and pulled me closer to him, gently taking my face in his hands. 'I understand you're pregnant, cutie – and of course I think that it's mine. But are you going to actually have it?'

'I-I don't know…' I stuttered and touched his slender, but long hands, still holding my face. 'I-I'm scared, Seb, we're just living together… I-I'm too immature, I don't have a job… t-this place's too small for three of us, and… and I-I'm… I don't know how to be a mother…'

'So what? I'm pretty childish as well, I have a good but ball-binding boring job and I also have no idea how to be a father.' He smiled a bit and wiped some of my tears away. 'We could be a shitty mother and a crappy father. We could epically fail at parenthood, together! How romantic.'

I growled and wanted to punch him, but he simply grabbed my fist and managed to wiggle his fingers in-between mine.

'This isn't funny,' I hissed, trying to ignore the happy butterflies crashing into my heart as he places soft kisses on my face and fire-red cheeks, 'th-this is real, and… and I don't know what to do.'

'I'd love to become a father – you know that.' Seb smiled at me once more. 'But it's your body, Luu. Your decision. If you're not ready to become a mother yet, then you could think about abortion. I leave it to you, cutie. I'll respect whatever option you pick.'

I stared at him, at his mysterious, light green eyes that always seemed to be completely emotionless and aloof – but secretly hid a very sensitive, caring and even shy personality. He wanted this baby – and who was I kidding, I wanted a baby, too. No matter how freaked out I was, I still loved babies and shit.

Es…

…

E-especially if it was his.

'I-if it's with you…' I therefore started, grabbing his shirt and breathing in and out slowly, 'i-if it's with you, Seb… if it's with you, I…'

'Really?' he softly said, lowering his hands till they rested on my tummy. 'Are you… a-are we going to do this, Luu?'

'Y-yeah, why not.' I grinned sheepishly as he caressed my stomach, looking so very happy and excited, and I felt like this was the right thing to do. Because I lo…l-lo…

…

I-I lov…

…

…g-goddammit…

o\00/

Of course I could say and think 'I love you' just fine.

Hell, I could say 'I love you' over and over again until the air got rotten from these gushy, lame, weak words. I swear I could. Easy as pie.

I…

…

I-I just had some trouble connecting these three words to actual living and breathing persons.

For as long as I remember, I've never ever told anybody in my life that I loved them. Not my fathers, not my boyfriend and not even my two older brothers, even though I was extremely aware of the fact how much they all meant to me – especially my brothers, since they've always been there for me, no matter what.

It's very frustrating. It's like there's a brake on your mind that's abruptly being pulled the moment your heart starts to beg you to just say those words already – tell them, tell you fathers you adore them, admit to your boyfriend you can't live without him, please your brothers by saying out loud how grateful you are for getting to be their little sister…

But I can't. I just can't. And it's always been like this. I have always been too embarrassed, too scared, too careful to admit my feelings for the people important to me. I fear I can't trust them. I'm scared to death they might leave me. That's what eventually made me so grumpy and defensive – that's what made me repel all the people around me.

And it has happened to me before. I have been abandoned. My fathers deny that, they say that my birth parents couldn't help but losing custody over me and my brothers – but it doesn't feel like the truth.

Also, I've studied Psychology and Behavior a few years ago – and during that study, I learned that people could get certain attachment issues if their parents did something awful to them. Since Ángel and Stefano never did anything bad to me and my brothers, there can only be one conclusion to my personal problems and my aversion to admitting I really care for somebody: my biological parents caused me to become like this.

For that, I hated them.

Even since Ángel and Stefano told us we weren't their actual children (Alejo and I had kind of figured out that much, but it was a pretty huge shock to Matteo), I've grown to detest my real parents. I mean, they never even tried to find us. While I had waited – I know I had, I can still see my own, hopeful ten-year-old self sitting in front of the window whilst it was raining outside, waiting for… f-for…

…

Anyway, in the worst case, they probably acted as if we didn't even exist. An awful thought that had popped up in my head more than once during my life – because it could actually be right.

So to cut a long story short: I tried not to show it too much whenever I was around my dads because it made them really sad, but it's true: I hated my real parents, for what they had and for what they hadn't done.

I'd never give up or forget about my children. I don't care what kind of fires or wars I'd need to stampede through in order to keep them – I'd fucking do it and I'd do it with a fucking smile! There!

However, I was on my own in this. Alejo and Matteo didn't feel any bitterness about our biological parents at all. They always said they understood our parents just didn't have the right conditions to raise us, or to look us up, for all that matters. I bet they think I'm a selfish brat for despising our parents so readily – but I don't care what they think. Alejo and Matteo have been able to love and be loved, easily, during their entire life, so they can't compare themselves to me. I've had many hardships because of my difficult character. H-heck, I didn't even have friends – and I still don't have those.

So, no, I wasn't curious about my real, asshole parents. And neither were the twins: the three of us believed it was fine this way. It was okay like this.

Though there was, and still is, a hole in my heart.

…

I have no other way to describe it – it's a hole. A big one. It goes straight through my chest and comes out the other way. It doesn't hurt, but it's there. And it's empty. Time after time, it tries to order me to go look for a way to fill it up – by crying in front of rainy windows like a total ditz, for example – but I can't. It's just too big, too… too vulnerable, because something's been removed. Something vital, something important – but what? What could it be?

I'm scared to tell my brothers, even though I think they get what I mean – even though I suspect them to admit they feel something similar. They're weird, after all, no matter how much they get accepted by the people around them. Like me, they're… I don't know, just… different. It's like we carry a huge secret. We're aware of it, but at the same time, we aren't, since we don't know what it is.

What could it be, really? Could it have something to do with my biological parents? Could they fill up the hole in my heart? Could they really…

Well, it didn't matter, because I didn't give a fuck.

I always said I'd rather die right on the spot than ever meeting them, those bastards. I didn't need them in my life, dammit. I didn't need anybody in my life – nobody, aside from my adoptive parents and brothers. They were enough.

…o-of course, then I met Seb, the transfer-student that came into my life during the years I tried to study Business and Communication, and sure, I-I guess I eventually allowed him to be with me, too, but that was it, really.

Me. Seb. Ángel and Stefano. And the twins. These people were my world, my everything.

But now I had gotten myself pregnant.

I was pregnant and frightened to fucking death.

Another person was going to wiggle its way into my world, and I wasn't sure if I could handle it.

And then it happened.

Right after Seb had told me how happy he was we were going to be parents – right after the hole in my chest made it very clear to me even this wonderful blessing of life wasn't going to fill it up, or help me tell Seb those words I've been longing to tell him ever since he brightened up my world – right when my eyes caught a glimpse of my jewelry box on the side table next to the bed.

No, I didn't want to know.

But I needed to know.

o\00/

'Move your barely-existing ass, Seb,' I suddenly said – and pushed him away before he could reply.

Seb obediently stepped aside and watched me walk straight to the small jewelry box. For some reason, I couldn't get my eyes off it. I really needed to grab something that was inside of it. It was strange, because never thought that much of the item after the last time I touched it – the time that I had almost broke it apart and eventually stashed it away in the box because I wasn't able to completely wreck it in the end anyway.

'What are you doing?' Seb asked, when I pulled out an old, dusty and broken necklace out of the jewelry box, and came to stand next to me. 'What's that?'

I said something like 'pssssh' and showed him the thing. 'Well, what do you think? What does it look like?'

'It looks like you've been in the army,' Seb said, studying the dog tag. 'And you never even told me. That's brutal, Luu.'

'Wha-! No you dweeb!' I snapped, although I repressed a giggle. 'I never was in the army – you really think I could survive in there? It's a necklace, Seb – a necklace I've been having ever since I was a little girl!'

Seb looked from the necklace to me. 'Your biological parents gave you this?'

'That's what Ángel told me,' I nodded and folded my arms.

'It's a dog tag,' he went on, 'and it has your name, some phone numbers and an address on it. Your real parents probably cared a lot about you.'

I felt a sting near my heart. It was just like Seb to say something like that out of the blue, making me squeeze my arms and feel uneasy within the blink on an eye.

'W-why would you think that,' I snorted.

'Because they'd written "she's a huge pain in the butt, dear god, please take her if you want her, 'kay thanks, we owe you one, peace bro" or something like that on it if they didn't care.'

I smiled, just a bit. I liked Seb's humor, even when it made me want to smack his cocky face.

'But why did you pull this out?' Seb asked, handing it back to me. 'Don't tell me… are you actually going to ask your fathers about your birth parents? Have you finally forgiven them for the crime they, by the way never willingly, committed?'

…

I really should smack his cocky face. Or Matteo's, for telling Seb all about our adoption-background when he first met him.

Or both. Both sounded right.

'No, Seb – joke around all you want, but I'll… I-I'll never forgive them,' I muttered as I glared at the necklace.

Stupid thing. I had always worn it when I was a kid. From the age of three till my brothers' eighteenth birthday, I had it around my neck all the time. Why I wore it – I had no idea. I didn't even question its existence – it just was there, and it should always be there, right with me. It was like a talisman to me. A lucky item. Something that comforted me when I felt bad or sad.

But things changed when our fathers told me and the twins the truth about our real parents. Well, they didn't tell us much – just that they had to give us away and couldn't ever seek contact with us and stuff anymore for some shady reason – but what they told us was enough for me to realize the thing I loved was from people that at a certain point in their life didn't love me anymore, so I yanked it from my neck and stomped on it. I've always been aggressive and unreasonable like that, always jumping to conclusions way too fast.

Anyway, I could have destroyed it completely, or tossed it away, but… there were too many memories connected to it. After all, I had wore it throughout my childhood – it meant something to me. Also, the throbbing hole inside of my heart warned me not to do it. For as much as throbbing holes in hearts could communicate with people, of course.

So I just put it away in my jewelry box I had gotten from my deceased great-grandfather years ago, and I never looked at it again.

Until now.

'Luu, seriously: why did you dig this dog tag up?' Seb asked me again. 'If you haven't forgiven them yet, then why do you want to meet up with them – because that's what you're suggesting right now. So why—'

'Because,' I started with a hiss, 'I have my fucking reasons!'

Seb didn't lose his patience, but he did give me a disappointed, annoyed look. It didn't surprise me – I acted like a bitch, as always as I was cornered. Not that that was a valid excuse: I most of the time acted like a bitch, even when I wasn't cornered.

I didn't want to be like this… I-I really wanted to be nicer.

Maybe if that hole was filled up… maybe then, I'd… yes.

Because I didn't want to become a mom like this. Not if I stayed the way I was. Holy shit, some kind of mother I would be. I'd yell at my child, and make it feel like it's worth shit and I wouldn't even mean it. 'Nooooo, mama doesn't hate you, it's just because mama's a childish idiot that doesn't know how to grow up and behave like a damn parent she's acting like this. Okay sweetie? Now go fuck yourself.'

…

God. I'd never forgive myself if I gave my kid a mom like me.

So I needed to fill up the empty space inside my heart and change into the mom I'd like to have had myself.

And if I could complete that goal by meeting my biological parents and – I don't know – hearing out their reasons for tossing me and the twins into the arms of another couple like unwanted garbage, then so fucking be it.

But I did it for my kid. For Seb. For my family. For my own good.

Not for them.

Never for them.

o\00/

Seb went to work shortly after our weird little argument.

We hadn't talked it out yet, because I preferred yelling and blaming others for all the misery in my life before talking it out came in my mind as an option, so even though we both were very nervous, happy and excited about becoming parents, everything was still pretty fucked up thanks to my refusal to explain Seb why I all of a sudden needed to meet my real parents.

But that was alright – everything would work out just fine after I had gone through all I… all I needed to go through. Yes. Everything would work out just fine. Seb wouldn't be angry with me anymore, and I would grow up, and my fathers would be proud of me, and musical notes and happy background-music everywhere.

So.

I called Ángel to ask if it was alright for me to come visit him and Stefano later this day – tonight or something. They probably would be just as amazed as Seb to hear that I wanted to meet the persons I'd been hating since my brothers' eighteenth birthday, but they'd understand. Well, I… I hoped they would.

Ángel did sound a bit weird on the phone, though.

'You want to talk to us? Can you tell me what it is about, exactly?'

'I rather not, dad,' I replied, pacing through Seb's kitchen – well it was supposed to be a kitchen, it actually was just a small room with a table, a refrigerator, a sink and a microwave in it. 'It's pretty important. I… need to tell you this face-to-face.'

I hesitated to tell him about my current condition, but eventually, because I didn't want to kill Seb – Ángel and Stefano were very protective of me and only agreed to let me live with Seb because they desperately clung to the silly idea we only hold hands at night – I decided to conventionally 'forget' about my pregnancy, for now.

'Face-to-face, huh?' Ángel sounded a bit peeved – or was that just my imagination? 'Alright – if that's what you're up to, I… I expect you to at least stay for dinner!~'

I blinked and thought about Seb's gloomy face right before he left home this morning. It wouldn't improve much if he came back from work, only to find an empty house.

'No, dad, I don't think I can stay for dinner. Can't I come over later tonight? I—'

'Stefano's making macaroni!~' Ángel happily carried on, ignoring me. 'He'll be so happy to see you again – and he likes to know if that job interview you had a few days ago worked out. We really want our little girl to become the strong, independent woman she claims to be!~'

I cringed. 'R-really.'

'Or did you find other job opportunities?'

I thought about all my activities over the course of last week: sitting in front of the television while Seb worked, promising myself I'd go look for a job right after this episode, not looking for a job in the end at all and finally, loathing myself upon realizing I hadn't done shit and stuffing my face with ice-cream to "punish" myself for being a lazy, helpless, desperate turd.

'I certainly have spotted a few open windows,' I therefore cryptically answered my father – since I did watch Seb's apartment's windows a lot. 'Or… or… hell, maybe I'll try going back to college.'

'Luisa.' Ángel's laugh was jovial but hollow. 'I love you, sweetie, but don't think your father and I are going to pay for yet another study you're not going to finish.'

'You act like I tried out tons of studies! I just—'

'YOU TRIED OUT FIVE STUDIES IN FOUR YEARS, YOUNG LADY.'

I huffed, but I didn't protest. Maybe he had a point right there.

Ángel let out a breathe of air. 'Listen, sweetie. If you really want to try for another study – that's fine by me. But we're not going to pay for it anymore. You'll have to pay for it yourself from now on. You're not a child anymore, Luisa.'

I gave a few grunts and growls as an answer. He was right, of course, but I didn't want to say it out loud. I thought badly of myself enough already – telling my father that I knew exactly what big of a loser I was, was pushing it too far. It'd be like admitting I had become everything my father had feared for.

And then I hadn't even counted my being pregnant in yet.

…

Fuck my life.

'Anyway,' Ángel said during my minor mental breakdown, 'now that you've called, I think I'll call Alejo and Matteo as well. Maybe we can all have dinner together tonight! Just like old times!~'

'Dad. Matteo lives two blocks away from you. I live five minutes further. And Alejo only moved out last week. We all had dinner at his new apartment two days ago.'

'I'm happy you think this is a great idea, too!~ I'll call the twins right away, sweetie!'

'Uh.'

'I'll see you tonight, then! Okay Luisa?'

I bit my lower lip, tried to block out the image of a very puzzled and lonely Seb, and nodded.

'…alright, dad. I'll be there.'

He said goodbye before he hung up, I knew he did – but I didn't hear or answer it, I just… just threw my damn phone down.

Fuck this. Fuck all of this.

o\00/

As I sat back on the couch and put my hands on my restless tummy, my just as restless mind began to wander.

Maybe… I didn't have to meet up with Ángel and Stefano in order to find out more about my biological parents. I mean, I already had everything I needed, if you think about it. The dog tag I had pushed away in my pocket had an address and at least three different telephone numbers written on it. I just needed to dial the damn numbers, and… and I'd get to talk to someone who could be a relative of me.

Or… I'd get complete strangers on the other side of the line, telling me the persons I was looking for were dead/had moved away years ago/suddenly disappeared/didn't make a bell ring in their mind and who the hell was I anyway, how did I get this number?

One way or the other, really.

…

W-well, I didn't want to call. I also didn't want to hop into a bus – shut up, so I didn't have a driver's license, what gives – and check out the actual address, because… I-I was afraid what I could find.

No. I needed to be prepared. I needed to know more before I'd impulsively barge into strange houses and the like. I mean, I could end up in jail or something if I didn't fucking watch it.

I guess there was no other way, then: I had to talk to my fathers, first. And perhaps my brothers would like to know what I was planning to do as well. Well, in that case, it was good that I was going to meet up with all of them.

But Seb.

I grimaced and pulled up my knees, hugging them tightly.

I didn't want Seb to come home to an empty house. I… I wanted to make it up with him – not make him think I had ditched him…

Wait! I got it: I'd sent him a text, telling him I'd be having dinner at my dads' place, and that he should come as well! And in case he'd be too busy to read that message, I'd leave a very sweet little note for him on the table in the kitchen as well.

Yeah! That ought to do it!

o\00/

Since I had nothing better to do anyway – aside from looking for a job but shhhhhh, that wasn't my priority today – I spent the rest of the afternoon writing Seb a decent text-message and a neat note, both with the same text.

In the end, when I was about to leave, this was what was on the note I had sent him/left for him:

Seb.
I'm having dinner at my fathers' place.
Join me.
-Luisa

…

…

Huh.

It seemed more like an invitation to a creepy cult than a 'I'm not mad at you and I want to see you' –note.

JOIN ME, SEB. JOIN US ALL. WE HAVE MACARONI.

Ugh.

I groaned. Fuck. The stupid note wasn't sweet at all, dammit – the only 'sweet' –part about it was the damn post-it it was written on: it was pink paper with little purple flowers. It was pretty cute.

…

Well, I could only hope Seb knew me long enough by now to get what I meant to say. For now, I should just go and try not to think about him or my lousy messages too much.

So with a last, somewhat squinty look at the small note on the table, I switched off the lights in the kitchen and left.

o\00/

Seb had recently fixed the lights on his bicycle, so instead of going to the nearest bus stop or walking, I simply took his bike and cycled away.

Mind you, though: I had some very good reasons for claiming his bike like that. The main reason was to make sure Seb would come to my fathers' place, since Seb would rather get run over by all the traffic in this street than allow anybody to take away his sacred bicycle. I swear, that guy loved that thing more than he loved football – and that's saying something.

Also, I didn't have enough money for the bus on me and I didn't feel like walking.

Those were the other main reasons.

Anyway.

Although I almost never cycled, I couldn't say I didn't like it. It was pretty nice, cycling away in the already dusk streets of this relatively quiet part of Barcelona. Dangerous, of course – it's still Barcelona – but still, it was great to feel the wind blow through my long, uncontrollable hair and cool off my slightly bonking head.

It was that pleasant, I didn't even notice how fast I was going: before I knew it, I arrived at Ángel and Stefano's white house – the place where my brothers and I grew up. It seemed like a pretty modest place, since it wasn't very broad if you looked at it from the front side – also, there was a huge garden with lots of plants and flowers surrounding it, making it seem like a cute place painters would want to put on a canvas.

The place was pretty big, though. Two floors, plus an attic. At least two bathrooms. And a red carpet, covering the entire level of the first floo—

…wait, no, Ángel and Stefano didn't have any carpets in the house, and if they had, it certainly wouldn't be red. But wait, that's weird, why did I think…

…

Whatever, did it matter?

I parked Seb's bike to the side of the gate, flung my annoying, hay-like hair out of my face and looked around me to check if Matteo or Alejo had arrived yet. But I didn't see Matteo's ugly-ass blue van, or Alejo's motorbike, so I suppose—

BRRRRRRRRUMMBBBBBRRRRRRrRRRRRRrrrRRR!

I had barely thought about Alejo, or I noticed him, driving on the other side of the road, coming my way. He and his big, black motorbike looked absolutely cool and awesome as always, and if he wasn't my brother and a giant, creepy douchebag, I'd be head over heels for him, like every other girl was whenever Alejo made his appearance.

It was just that 'bad boy' –look he pulled off so well. He had this long, dark, curly hair, big, shiny hazel eyes and he always had a huge grin on his face. Mostly a fucking disturbing one, like he had just slashed a poor sucker to pieces, but really, he couldn't help that – it was just the way he smiled. Alejo was overall a pretty good guy, actually, but he did have a fairly troublesome past.

Alejo was a difficult kid when we were younger. He got along with everybody just fine, just like Matteo, until you had the fucking guts to anger him – hell practically exploded whenever you angered him.

Alejo had beat up truckloads of people and got beaten up almost just as many times. He didn't like structure or learning things he didn't want to learn, so he skipped classes and he never even finished high school. But he was pretty tall and pretty pretty, so he could find work as a male model.

Yes. My big brother had been a male model. People seemed to love his raw, animalistic character and looks, and you bet it was embarrassing to go to a school where your brother's almost naked body was put on posters and pasted on all the walls and had lipstick marks all over it.

Alejo made a lot of money back then and a lot of wrong (boy- and/or girl)friends as well. He got stressed out from all the attention and pressure and started using things – it was a very hard period for my fathers and Matteo and me. It almost killed Alejo, too.

But then lots of things happened, and Alejo got himself in a car crash while under influence of some sort of drug, which caused him to lose both his pinkie fingers – don't ask me how he managed to pulled that off. It wasn't his fault and the other car's driver didn't even get hurt, but it shocked Alejo enough to suddenly quit his bad habits and even his work as a model.

Nowadays, he worked as an assistant for one of the most delicious butcher's shops in the city. His boss was an older, kind, but also huge and thug-faced man that freaked everybody out – so it was no wonder the two got along very well. Alejo didn't make as much money as he did during his model days, but at least he was on the right track again, doing what he loved to do, and also doing as many people as he wanted to do. Let me put it this way, Alejo really wasn't picky. As long as they were adults and had a heartbeat – hell, he'd tap it.

…

Why the fuck was I telling this, who gives a shit?

But anyway, in a matter of seconds, Alejo had parked his enormous, LOUD motor-machine next to Seb's bike, swung his legs off the… thing, and pulled his helmet off with one single movement.

Then, he grabbed the zipper of his protective motor suit (yeah he actually wore those) and zipped it all down, until he could step out of it in a completely new and crazily fashionable outfit, like he fucking did this every day, which probably was just the case.

While he roughly muffled his suit away in a bag hanging from his motorbike, he turned around to look at me and gave me one dazzling, slightly arrogant smile, before it all dropped right off his face, like an overripe tomato.

'Whoa, Lulu – what's up with your hair?'

'Shut the fuck up, cartoon-handed dipshit,' I fiercely defended myself while also aggressively flipping the bird at him, 'I came here by bike, that's all.'

'So you hopped on a bike and instantly changed into a scarecrow.' Alejo whistled. 'Oh well, at least you finally have a hairdo that goes with your boring outfits.'

I gasped. 'Wha-! Cut it out already! My clothes are fine!'

'Your clothes are fine – for a scarecrow. Damn.' Alejo sighed and brushed some of his way too gorgeous hair out of his eyes. 'You have the fashion sense of a door.'

'…a… door?'

'Yup. Tragic.'

I glared at him and wished I could say something evil about this taste in clothes, but sadly enough, Alejo had developed a fantastic clothing style ever since he started working as a model. And he kept that style, even when he didn't want to do any modeling anymore. So now, he spent his days chopping off animal parts, fucking random strangers and making fun of my and Matteo's fashion sense, which we both didn't have.

…

Talking about Matteo, what took him so long?

'Teo?' Alejo said, while he grabbed my hand and pulled me after him when he walked to the front door or our parents. 'Oh, he called me a hour ago, telling me he couldn't make it – couldn't find a babysit. He'll call you tomorrow.'

I was so surprised I willingly let Alejo guide me to the door. 'Call me? Why?'

'Wellllllll,' Alejo said, very annoyingly dragging on that L, 'because he's your other big brother, because he's a wimpy dork that can't spend one single day without at least hearing the shrill voice of his scarecrowy sister—'

'Continue like that and I swear to GOD I'm going to pound you in the fucki—'

'AND,' Alejo went on, giving me a look over his shoulder, 'because Papa Ángel told us about this talk you wished to have with them.'

'Agahh,' I said, since his words had kind of overwhelmed me in the middle of a damn sentence.

Alejo chuckled and let go of me, at the same time as he rang the doorbell.

'You really think Matteo wouldn't like to know what you want to talk about? We all want toknow what you want to talk about, Luisa – even though it's crystal-clear what it is.'

I looked up at him, perplex. 'You... you know what it is, then?'

'Sure,' he said, nodding. 'It only was a matter of time anyway – Teo and I even made bets on it. Still, I'm happy you left you Scandinavian boyfriend at home, because Papa Stefano will break his kneecaps if he finds out that sly bastard has knocked his precious grumpy daughter up.'

I firstly wanted to snarl at him that Seb, for the hundredth time, wasn't fucking Scandinavian – but I couldn't.

I then wanted to yell I wasn't knocked up at all - but I was.

Finally, I wanted to admit to Alejo – read: hiss in his damn face – that yes, okay, I was pregnant but that was not the point right now, so please, please, please shut the hell up about it in front of our fathers – but then the front door opened and Ángel greeted us with a broad smile, leaving many but tiny wrinkles in the area around his lips.

'Ah, Luisa, Alejo!' The thick, graying eyebrows above my dad's dark, but vivid eyes raised a bit in amused surprise. 'You're a tad earlier than we had expected – but that's alright! Come on in, kids, come on in, Papa Ángel was just grating cheese, so please forgive me for my messy apron and this track of little cheese-bits on the floor, ahahahahahaha!~'

Alejo smiled just as broadly back at him. 'No worries, pa – keep smiling like that for the rest of the evening and Lulu will forgive you everything!'

I wanted to punch him in the gut, dammit, but the asshole was faster than I was and managed to pat me on the shoulders teasingly before walking into the house, saying out loud how delicious it smelled in here, while Ángel blinked his eyes confusedly, and I enthusiastically tried to murder my brother with mine.

But then I reminded myself I needed to calm the fuck down – calm the fuck down already – and that I wasn't going to tell anybody anything, apart from the biological parents-thing, and that that was going to be a piece of cake, because I was only a few weeks pregnant now, probably, so you couldn't tell yet.

'My,' Ángel said while he took my coat, with a critical look at my posture, 'did you put on some weight again, sweetie?'

…

Not even 'did you put on some weight'.

NO.

DID YOU PUT ON SOME WEIGHT

AGAIN.

…

Oh god. I was either going to cry or throw up.