Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

A/n1: We're slowly but surely nearly the final part of this fic. There are still quite some chapters left, mind you – but I think it's time to change quotations one last time.
From now on, the quotes will be about fathers. The first one is from Paul Van Haver, AKA Stromae, the popular singer from Belgium that sings in French and still manages to touch many people's hearts with just that. You probably know the song where I got it from. ^^

A/n2: I'm so busy. DDDDDDDD8 And because I'm so busy, I can't always reply to your reviews/PM's in time, and I also can't write very big chapters (although this one turned out bigger than I expected!), and I also have to post chapters later than you're used of me. And I know most of you don't really mind, but I actually dislike that myself a lot. Bah!
So, in case you haven't gotten a reply to your review yet – I'm working on it! Okay? ^^

A/n3: I need to read 16 books in 10 weeks for school, on top of all my other homework. First I needed to read only 12, but now, there are SIXTEEN FRIGGIN' BOOKS on the damn list. THAT'S LIKE THE WHOLE WORLD, DAMMIT.
'Oh, don't worry!' my professor said. 'The books are all fairly thin!~'
FAIRLY THIN
MOST BOOKS HAVE MORE THAN 300 PAGES
I DON'T CALL THAT FAIRLY THIN. NO.
Furthermore, the books I need to read are all from Dutch writers, of course, so most of them are incredibly vague and have SUCH AWKWARD SEX-SCENES. Like WTF, what the hell is he/she even DOING. CAN'T ANYBODY HELP THAT LOSER. GOD. *facepalms*

~~ And Three Makes Five ~~

Chapter 77:

Everybody knows how to raise a kid,
but no one knows how to raise a father.
Stromae
(Belgian singer-songwriter)

'So? When are we going to visit them?'

I looked at Venetia as carefully as I could, and in a way I never before had looked at a girl, or anyone before. Seriously, you should've seen me. So fucking anxious and complicated and eager – it could be easily confused with a strange kind of hyper-death-stare. And you just know how terrible those stares are. Even if you don't have the faintest idea what the hell I'm talking about.

'When are we going to visit them?' Venetia repeated, giving me weird looks because of my weird looks. 'Oh no, Luisa, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to be there when you and your brothers visit your fathers. That's family business – it's got nothing to do with me. Besides, I need to inform as many nation-children as possible, so I have no time to keep hanging around. I do expect your parents to give me kudos for reactivating your memories and such, though.'

'So… what are you going to do now, then?' Matteo wanted to know, while Venetia looked around to see where her coat went. 'And, um… what about those items you brought in that suitcase?'

'Those are yours to keep!' She smiled at my brother. 'These things were yours to start with. I don't have the right to keep them, I only have the right to return them to their owners. You should know how many dusty old suitcases my mother has at our place: throughout the years, the doctors – or ex-doctors – of the personifications have managed to gather as many important items as they were capable of, all according to mother and Dr. Delgado's plan. They sent them all to mother, and she kept them, waiting for the right moment to write her book and go find all of the nation-children. So far, I think I've returned… three suitcases. Also, I'll deliver the next suitcase to another nation-kid tomorrow.'

'So next to us three and Mimi, there are two other nation-kids that you've met already?' I realized.

'Of course – what, you expect me to be normal and rest? Please, Luisa. I'm not an amateur. But yes, I'm proud to let you know that shortly after your call, I got a call from another person that claimed to be a nation-kid: Berit, Denmark and Norway's kid. I was in Germany, and since Denmark is pretty much a fart away from Germany, I decided to stop by this girl's place real quick and give her her rightful belongings. And as for the other kid – Seb, I expect you to swing by the hotel I'm staying tomorrow, so you can rummage through your items. You answered all my questions correctly, after all.'

But Seb was skeptical. 'Wait a sec. You really expect us to believe that a small, lone girl like you is dragging all those suitcases with her of all the nation-children with her, during all of her trips through the continent? Come on – you barely have any strength in those shrimpy arms to carry even one suitcase, let alone a whole lot of them.'

'That's what trucks and cargo-holds are for,' Venetia simply said, completely unfazed. 'The other suitcases are back in the hotel, of course. My room's filled with them. You should see the way I have to sleep tonight. It's most pitiable.'

Seb blinked. 'Oh. Sounds like you left home well-prepared, then.'

'As if I'd go on this important mission without the proper preparations. Ha! My mother and the other doctors have saved money for years to be able to go and travel around in search for the lost children. Originally, the plan was that my mother, Dr. Delgado and some other docs would go on this mission – but then Dr. Delgado died, other doctors got burn-outs and what-not and mom got tons of attention with her book, so I offered to complete this noble task in their place. The minute I got the first call that I believed, I informed mother, collected all the suitcases and left. What a great time to be alive.'

'But you're… you're so young!' Alejo frowned at her. 'You're, what, twenty? God! When I was your age, I didn't even dare to go visit Disneyland Paris all by myself! And you're already skipping over borders like it's nothing – that's so… so awesome!'

Venetia's smile grew a bit wider. 'Well, it's not like I had anything better to do anyway. School can't challenge me and dad's always talking about how much he used to travel. So it was an easy decision.'

Matteo nodded understandingly. 'Because you want to travel and experience just as much as your dad, right?'

'No, to get away from his boring stories. That man seriously doesn't know when to stop rattling about dry desserts and high mountains.'

Matteo was left speechless and Venetia, who finally found her coat, dug her cell phone up from her pocket. She had put it on silent shortly after she had come in. She looked on the phone now and smiled triumphantly, showing us the screen.

'You see that? Forty missed calls. Probably all calls from nation-kids – oh, and a few from Mimi and Berit, too, by the looks of it. I'll call them back when I get at the hotel.'

'Looks like you'll be busy,' I said, while Seb and I walked her to the door – 'cause we were polite like that.

'Yeah.' She put the phone in her pocket again and beamed another smile at me. She looked like the kind of person that was happiest when there was lots to do and prepare. You know, that kind of person who liked chaos and stress, kicks and adrenaline and those things.

'Well, I guess this is goodbye, then. Please let me know how meeting up with your fathers went, okay?' Luisa shook me the hand. 'Take care of yourself. And of your brothers. And of those gorgeous asses you all have. Except you, Seb – you got nothing.'

Seb smirked affably. 'I have Luisa.'

'Touché.' Venetia said, also shaking his hand (both of them totally ignored my angry and very embarrassed face, by the way). 'I'll see you tomorrow, around… twelve o'clock, in the lobby of hotel –?'

'What hotel's named –?' Seb wanted to know.

'Not a single one, I suppose. But the author's too lazy to go find a decent and believable Spanish hotel-name, so you'll have to accept and embrace the –. Did you know Jane Austen did those kind of things as well when she didn't feel writing out a city's or house's name was important for a story? It's pretty fascinating. Not that I can compare her to someone like Austen. Haha! To think!'

…

Naturally, Seb and I just stared at her in response.

'Anyway.' Venetia coughed. 'Goodbye, Luisa, Seb.'

'Y-yeah, bye,' I stammered, feeling somewhat confused.

She leaned to the side to wave at Alejo and Matteo. 'Mini-Spains, I bid you farewell as well.'

'Sure!~' Alejo grinned back at her as he put the photo's back in the suitcase. Meanwhile, Matteo only looked very confused.

'This was lovely.' Venetia winked at me and Seb before briskly turning around. 'We should do this again sometimes. Ciao.'

\0o0/

It suddenly hit me when Antonio and I were watching television in bed.

'Antonio?'

'Lovino?' Antonio – oh so very punny – reacted, glancing to the side. Even though he had been pretty shaken about what I had told him concerning Tosca and Feliciano a few hours earlier, he seemed to be feeling fine again now. I mean, his eyes were completely calm and not dimmed-out or something. I guess he was stronger than he claimed he was. It made me relax a bit. It was reassuring.

Still, I gave him a very peculiar look and frowned some more, tuning the volume of the TV down.

'What happened twenty years ago?'

'Huh?' Antonio said. 'Twenty years ago? I don't know – what should've happened twenty years ago?'

'Lots of things happened twenty years ago.' I licked my lips, that were getting dry all of a sudden. 'Some things… changed, twenty years ago. I'm not sure what, I firstly thought it was just a weird coincidence that Feli and I and many other nations lost our docs twenty years ago, and that we suddenly felt bad around certain kinds of people around that same time, and that our entire continent almost went fucking bankrupt back then as well, since so many European nations got sick and depressed, without even knowing why, or what the cause was…'

'That's…' Antonio laughed, but it sounded anxious. 'That's a bit too much, don't you think?'

I sat up. 'Exactly! It's a fucking truckload of "random" happenings, and they all happened twenty years ago! It can't be a collection of coincidental events – something big really did happen back then!'

'Oh, you might be right…' Antonio mused and rubbed his chin. 'Come to think of it… there indeed weren't any years in-between all those happenings you summed up just now. Huh.'

'Why didn't we realize this earlier?' I hissed. 'I mean, whoa, how stupid can we be, for fuck's sake – how stupid can we all be?'

Antonio touched my hand. 'Lovi, with all respect, times were pretty… hectic back then. If we weren't sick or recovering from an unknown sadness, we had to work to heal our countries. Hard. We didn't have time to think – our bosses didn't give us time to think. We should just do what we had to do to try and help them save the continent from collapsing. And it wasn't just Europe – America also almost went bankrupt, remember? England once had to pick him up from a huge crane in the streets of New York! He was dancing on top of it! In the middle of the night! In his PJ's! Poor guy had totally lost it!'

I nodded. 'Yes, we… we had to work a lot, I guess… Maybe they made us work so hard for another reason. Not just to make sure our nations would be saved – there's only this much us personifications can do, after all – but also to distract us.'

'From what?' Antonio asked.

'I have no idea.' I made a ball out of my hand. 'But they managed to distract us from… whatever it is, for two whole decades. Fuck – that's a lot of years, Antonio!'

'Not in a personification's life.' Antonio shrugged. 'Anyway, Lovi, what do you want to say? Or do, for all that matters? Do you want to find out what happened back then?'

'Yes.' I looked at him. 'I want to know why our doctors left. Why Feliciano, Femke and a couple of other countries grew so sick all of a sudden. Why you got into that pitch-black depression that… that almost made me lose you. Mentally, I mean.'

Antonio didn't say a word and looked down, at his hands.

I breathed in, deeply and shakily, then I carried on.

'They made me, one of the few personifications that were relatively healthy in spite of everything, work as hard and as much as they needed me to, but no way they could've made me forget that part of that period.'

'You were so strong.' Antonio smiled a small, sad smile at me. 'So incredibly strong. I hope I can reach the heights of bravery and courage you have seen and touched one day as well, my love.'

'Sh-shut up.' I glared at him, but I didn't push his hand away when he gently put it on my face. 'You got out of that dark hole all by yourself, Antonio. That was something you needed to do all by yourself – and… and I'm sorry I couldn't help you much. I still am. I-I…'

Antonio shook his head, pushed me back on the mattress and scooted closer to me, pressing my body against his lovingly.

'You were there.'

'D-dammit.' I swallowed something big and heavy and wrapped my arms around him, his warm, welcoming and friendly person, as well. 'F-fucking hell… fucking… f-fucking, crapping hell…'

He kissed my forehead a couple of times and let his face rest against it afterwards.

'I got better. I am better. You know I am.'

'I want to protect it, you know?' I whispered after a short, not-uncomfortable silence. 'This… this weird life we lead. Together. It's fragile enough – I don't want it to get damaged. Not any more than it already is.'

I heard and felt he chuckled. 'It never was damaged.'

'I don't know if you're saying that because you're acting corny or just stupid, Antonio, but if you weren't hugging me right now, I'd have smacked your ass for that.'

'Of course you would. It's a very fine ass, after all.'

'Dipshit.' I grinned nevertheless and firmly held on to him, simply because I wanted to feel his skin against my own more – even more than I already felt it was.

'Hey, Lovi?' Antonio then said, now stroking my hair.

'Hmm,' I murmured with closed eyes.

'Um. Okay, This might sound like a dumb plan and I'm aware of the fact you already threatened to attack my backside just now, but… about that book Tosca wrote.'

I wiggled and twitched in his arms until I could look up to him, without him losing his grip around me. 'Yeah, what about it?'

He licked his lips and gave me a goofy smile.

'How… how about we go read it?'

o\00/

'What?'

I still gazed at the wall I'd been staring at ever since answering the phone. But that was no wonder, dammit – especially not after hearing the news Venetia had just told me. I must have looked so bizarre. God. Good thing Seb wasn't here to worry about me, he had left to go visit the young woman I was speaking to right now just a few minutes ago.

'I'm sorry – I really, really am, Luisa, this tears me apart from the inside as well, but… please trust me when I tell you this. You CAN'T go visit your parents. Not right now. They'll chase you away. They… they could even call the police.'

'What… what?' I kept saying.

'It's Mimi. And… and I've heard some disturbing messages from Berit as well.' Venetia sounded stressed, and not in a good, stimulating way. 'Apparently, Mimi got arrested for "assaulting" their parents. She had tried to call me a couple of times yesterday, when I was visiting you and shortly after she was released out of prison after an unknown person bailed her out.'

My ears were starting to beep. At least, I heard they did. I could still hear Venetia's voice, but I also heard this annoying, stretched-out beep, ringing through my head.

'Her parents didn't recognize her and panicked when Mimi refused to go away,' Venetia carried on. 'Mimi then panicked as well and did what she could to try and make them remember her, but it was no use. Their memories are buried way too deep, so – you… you just can't go waltz into their lives like that.'

'You can't be serious.' I finally said something – and I felt a helpless rage welling up inside of me. 'Then… t-then what the hell am I supposed to do now, huh? How can I… convince them that I'm their daughter – what the fuck can I do to get that through their thick, stupid fucking skulls, huh?'

'I-I don't know. I'm sorry, but… but I don't have a clue. I wasn't prepared for this. But I'll figure something out. I promise you, okay?'

'You—'

'I really got to go now, Luisa. Your boyfriend can show up here any minute and I still need to make more phone calls – just… just stay on stand-by, alright? I'll think of something. But don't do anything just yet.'

'I… sure, I guess I… shall I call Matteo and Alejo, then?'

I really wanted to do something – anything.

'Aww. Thanks, Luisa. But I already called Alejo before I called you (managed to get his number yesterday), and he'd call Matteo if I called you, so… no.'

'Oh.'

'I'll talk to you later, Luisa, I – yes, yes, I'm coming! Sheesh.'

The call ended right there, leaving me with yet another feeling of incredible worth- and helplessness.

I chucked my cell phone with a grunt to the other side of the room and then sat down on a chair, where I clutched my tummy. My stomach was hurting. If this was going to keep up, I was going to hurl, dammit, and I really didn't want to hurl. Come to think of it, I still needed to call that stupid gynecologist – I still needed to go and find out if my unborn kid was doing alright, and… I don't know, how many months or weeks I was pregnant already, but I felt more like curling myself up on my bed and eating chocolate cookies until I'd burst. For lots of reasons.

So they'd chase us off, huh?

I clenched my teeth and gripped my tummy some more.

They'd chase us off. They'd call the police and let us get dragged away. There would be nothing but angry emotions in their eyes if the twins and I'd show up in front of their House.

I…

God, I had barely made any progress at all, had I?

I only changed the way I thought about them, and look what that brought me so far: ridiculous hope, feelings of despair, problems and the terrible feeling of getting rejected by my parents – for REAL this time.

…

I should have tossed away that useless dog tag-thing when I could. And I should never have asked my fathers about my biological parents. It was a stupid move, it was completely uncalled for, it was just me, being selfish, as always.

Maybe if I hadn't started all this… then… maybe…

Ding-dong, ding dong

The doorbell. I paused from thinking horrible thoughts and slowly looked up, at the front door.

'Who's there?'

'Luisa?' A familiar voice, instantly sounding worried. 'Sweetie, it's me – Papa Ángel – I-I was in the neighborhood and I thought… h-hey, are you crying?'

'D-dad?' I immediately got up from the chair and made my way to the door.

'What's the matter – oh god, don't tell me you've been crying for the past days… I wanted to call you, but… but the line was always… you have way too many friends, young lady!' Ángel tried to sound very father-ish and stern, but I had noticed the relieved tone in his words as he heard me unlocking the door.

I opened the door and looked at my adoptive father with a shaking, lower lip and one of my hands still covering my tummy.

'I feel bad, papa.'

His brown eyes got a bit watery as he stepped into the apartment and pulled me in his arms.

'Oh sweetie – I'm sorry, I'm so very sorry…'

'I feel really, really bad.'

'I know.' He tightened his hold around me. 'I should've been more happy for you and Seb, I… I should have helped you and your brothers out with your quest… I'm so sorry, Luisa, I really—wow, you look seriously pale, by the wa–'

But that was as far as he could go, because before he could even finish his sentence, I threw up, all over the both of us.

o\00/

Ángel was amazing. He didn't even shriek or step back when I started projectile-vomiting the ever-loving crap out of my stomach, dammit – nope, he simply waited for me to… finish, and then he reassured me everything was okay, cleaned me and the rest of the mess up, put me into bed and went to call the gynecologist (I now had a new appointment for tomorrow, dad didn't want me to postpone it any longer than necessary), all before he even went to get changed himself.

While he arranged all of that, I just sat in my bed, in my PJ's, and felt crappy as crappy could feel like. Like, crappy to the Nth degree. In the meantime, I had been getting calls from Matteo and Alejo, both sounding upset about the recent developments, and a call from Seb, who was afraid I was feeling crappy as crappy could feel like, that blank, kind sweetheart, and promised me he'd return from Venetia as soon as he could.

I was happy my dad was here now, by the way.

…

Y-yeah, I was. I was really mad at Stefano and him before, but now that he was here, I felt… I don't know, a bit more at ease, aside from the... crappiness. As if things really would turn out to be okay. That's the power of a parent, I guess: making your kid feel safe and sound. I hope I could be such a parent. Really, if only I could be half as good as Ángel or Stefano… or… or Papa Lovi and Papa Toni… who didn't even want to meet me…

I broke down in tears again and hid my face in my hands.

'Here I am again!' Ángel said as he came out of the bathroom. 'I got to say, those Dutch people really know how to clean their… hey… hey, Luisa, sweetie, what's the matter, what's wrong, Lulu?'

He sat next to the bed and patted my hand while I bawled and told him everything I had came to know about so far – about my real parents, about the memories, about Alejo and Matteo – which must have been very difficult for him to understand, no doubt. You should've seen the snot, dammit – super gross, ugh.

But dad listened to me in a way he hadn't done in years, or so it felt like, and he only said something when he needed to do so, and it was nice to get all of this out of my system – to be able lift the weight from my heart. My shoulders weren't the ones suffering under this weight, after all – it was my heart, it had always been my heart, and damn it all.

'Oh sweetie,' Ángel said after I had said what I had to tell him, 'you've been through a lot, haven't you?'

I looked at him, my eyes quivering. 'I-I was so close, dad. SO close. And now, I'll just have to give up. I'll…'

'Give up?' Ángel frowned. 'It's nothing like you to give things up like that. The Luisa I know and love would never give up.'

I huffed. 'The Luisa you know is a spoiled little bitch.'

'No, she isn't.' He stroke my hair. 'She's a strong, independent young woman who only wants to meet her biological parents. And she will.'

'Ha.' I smiled weakly at him. 'You're nice, dad, but you don't have to encourage me with hollow, quasi-philosophic phrases. Chances are that I'll never meet them, and you know it.'

But dad didn't lose that determined look in his eyes, neither did his dead-serious face ever started to falter.

'No. You'll meet them. I'll personally make sure you will.'

'Wh-what?' I stammered, while dad took out his phone. 'What do you mean, you'll personally make sure – also, wait, don't tell me you actually have their phone-number!'

'I have, though.' Ángel flashed a cheeky smile at me. 'Shortly after… um… our fight, I began to think about Mr. Spain and Mr. Romano more often, and before I knew it, I was scrolling through my cell phone one day, to check if it was true – if I indeed still had their personal phone numbers – and it turned out I didn't have their house number anymore, nor did I have Mr. Romano's number… but…'

'But…?' I repeated, leaning forwards to him.

'I still have Mr. Spain's number.' Dad grinned, but not very convincingly. 'Looks like I couldn't bring myself to erase the last memory I had of my own personification, and the strange kind of friendship I felt for him.'

That's true – I tended to forget it every now and then, but Ángel had been the personal doctor of my Spanish father.

'I can call him, you know.' Dad looked from the phone to me. 'I can… I don't know, think of something to make it possible for you to meet your biological fathers.'

'But why would he want to talk to you?' I heard myself talking. 'I-I mean… in Tosca's book, she told the readers that most personal doctors quit their jobs. They… kind of left the personifications hanging. I understand why, sure, witnessing all that shit your own personification has to go through must be terrible, but… I can imagine the nations felt unwanted and left behind.'

'Most personal doctors left their nation's personification hanging,' Ángel nodded. 'But I wasn't one of them.'

My jaw dropped a bit. 'You didn't stop being Spain's personal doctor? Not even when you took their kids like that? No offense, dad – I know about your situation and the situation of the personifications at that time – but I'd feel awful if I had done something like that and had to keep in touch with the real parents.'

Dad stopped smiling. 'That's the whole point, sweetie: I wanted to feel awful. I wanted to punish myself – to keep reminding myself that the only reason why my lover and I suddenly were the proud parents of three beautiful children, was the fact that I took them from two immortal, but very normal, kind guys that had loved and cared about them whole-heartedly. Also, they were my friends.'

I didn't say a word as dad stared at the cell phone and sighed.

'I-I got along greatly with them. We even thought about having a barbecue-party of some sorts in the Summer. When I had to stab their backs like that… at least, that was what it felt like… I loathed myself so much, Luisa. I needed to punish myself, to… to try and atone, I guess. So while Tosca and many other personal doctors stopped looking after their nations, I stayed.'

'How… long?' I wanted to know. 'How long were you able to… work as their personal doctor?'

Ángel looked at me carefully. It seemed like he was hesitating about things to tell me and things not to tell me. I bet it wasn't all that easy for him, and… and I'm sure he's seen and experienced things that weren't pretty, but come on – I wasn't a child anymore. I could handle the truth. I therefore hoped I kind of gave that radiance – that my posture and all would let him know that I was stronger than I looked like.

Even though I had vomited all over him just a couple of moments ago and was now sitting in bed with in fluffy PJ's with pink rabbits on them.

'I was your Spanish father's personal doctor for at least one, two years, I believe.' He looked away from me and folded his hands together. 'The first time I met them after all the memories had been wiped, nothing seemed wrong with both of them. They were a bit groggy, of course, but they blamed that on all the work they had to do from their bosses. They looked good, actually. Tired, but… good. It surprised me. It gave me a disgusting, relieved feeling. "You see that," I told myself, "they are better off without the kids. You did the right thing."

But after a few weeks, the condition of most European personification grew weak and fragile. They had no idea how or why, but it happened and it happened steadily. Whenever I dropped by your fathers' place back then, I'd notice how restless they looked when they had the chance to think. They didn't talk to me as much as they used to do and they were getting thin. Still, Mr. Romano complained about how busy they were and his sick brother, and he was really mad at Dr. Tosca, since she had apparently quit as their personal doctor.'

'I bet he was confused as fuck,' I said.

'He was.' Ángel cleared his throat. He had never scolded me whenever I swore, and neither did he now, even though I could tell he didn't really like it. 'But Mr. Spain's condition was far worse.'

My eyes grew. 'H-he was that sick?'

'Sort of. He got into a severe depression, just like at least five other countries – Mr. France, Mr. Russia, Mr. England, Miss Hungary and, maybe somewhat unexpected, Miss Liechtenstein. Now all personifications felt bad during that puzzling period, but the six of them were like living shadows. And the most horrible part of it all was that neither of them had the faintest idea why they felt that way.

Whenever I talked to Mr. Spain about it, he'd look at me with empty, confused eyes and whispered that he didn't know how he had even been able to get out of bed that day. It ripped my heart to shreds, it… it pained me so much to see him like that. I felt like such a bastard: while Mr. Spain sat in dirty pants and stared at walls most of the day, I was at home, playing tag with his children – having fun with them, like I wasn't aware of the disturbing reality that my own nation's personification was slowly pining away.

He… he got over it , so don't cry, sweetie… please don't cry, he got better... I think his depression had lasted about… six months. Depressions can go on for years, but I suppose Mr. Spain's position as an immortal being that had been through a lot during his life helped him beat his own depression. And it also helped a lot that Mr. Romano never even thought about leaving him. He was quite optimistic, even. He'd care for Mr. Spain and be the same as always. He was suffering as well, but he kept going – he had to, he once told me: if he started withering away like Mr. Spain and his brother did, then what?

Anyway, I… that was all that I could take. After Mr. Spain finally started to feel, eat, sleep and function better, Stefano begged me to stop. I wasn't feeling so swell, as you maybe can imagine. I was on the verge of getting a mental breakdown. Fortunately, Mr. Spain and Mr. Romano both understood me when I told them I wanted to resign. They were thankful for all that I had done for them and told me I could always call them if… well, if I wanted to hang out with them or anything.

But I think we all knew back then that they'd never see me again. Which was good, since I… I really didn't ever see them again after that last time I swung the door close behind me. I just didn't want to. Not anymore.'

Dad looked on in silence as I wiped my tears with the sleeve of my pajamas.

'S-sorry – those damn hormones, I'm… ugh, I'm already starting to cry when I see as much as a cute cat, you know?...'

'It's okay.' Ángel smiled at me. 'Thanks, sweetie.'

'For what?'

'For hearing me out. And…' He rubbed the palms of his hands over his legs and knees. '…and… not-hating me.'

'I don't hate you. I… I lo… I…'

…

D-dammit…

'Anyway,' dad continued as he gripped his phone again, 'because of all that, I'm pretty sure Mr. Spain is willing to talk to me if I call him. And that's very nice, because I'm about to ask him something very important.'

'What?' I asked while he abruptly got up from the bed and dialed the number. 'Dad – wait, what are you ever doing? What are you going to ask? Dad!'

Dad chuckled and put a finger on his lips. 'Sssh, Luisa – Papa Ángel's making an important call!~'

/0o0\

Lovi and I were preparing lunch when an old, but fantastic and very underrated ringtone started to fill up the air with its neverending beauty.

'I can't believe you,' Lovino said as he shook his head and took the tiny breadbuns out of the oven. 'You've been having that stupid ringtone for fucking decades. Are you still not sick and tired of that lame song? I mean, come on – Julio Iglesias is awesome, okay, we get it – but do I really need to hear that… that trembling voice of his every time you get a damn call?'

I simply smiled at him as I took my phone from my pocket. 'You ditch Mika, I ditch Julio.'

He squinted his eyes and huffed. 'Never.'

'Or buy and read that book with me.'

'Again, never.'

Then he grumpily walked off to the dining room, while I grinned for a bit (he was so adorable when he was pissed because of something stupid, aww), before finally answering the phone.

'Hello, who is this?'

'Mr. Spain! Good afternoon!~'

I felt an old, nostalgic feeling hitting me in the head as soon as I heard this familiar voice. Oh! Ohhhh, I knew who this was, I knew him!

'Wait!' I started. 'Don't say anything – let me guess who you are. Um… are you… oh! You're Ángel Hernández, aren't you! My old doctor! Wow! You sound so… so… old!'

'Well, I'm in my forties now, Mr. Spain, so… it's no wonder I sound like that. But I'm so glad! You still recognize my voice? That's admirable! I didn't know you respected me that much…'

'Of course I do. You really think I'd forget doctors like you and your grandpa? You both did so much for me, I can't thank you enough for all that you've done! How's Delgado doing, by the way – still nagging about me and Lovi's relationship? Ahahahahaha!'

'…my grandfather passed away years ago, Mr. Spain.'

I instantly stopped laughing and gulped. So even people like that tough-as-nails old coot can die, huh? A cold shiver went through my body.

'S-sorry, Hernández. I… I didn't know—'

'No no, that's alright, don't feel bad! You couldn't know he died.'

'It's great to hear from you, by the way!' I decided to switch subjects. 'So, how have you been doing? How is your husband – oh! And you had adopted some kids, right? How are they doing? Are they making you proud?'

I bit my lower lips. Talking about kids gave me stings in the chest, but it wasn't polite if I didn't ask about his family.

'Oh, I'm fine, Stefano's fine, the kids… um… well, everybody's fine, Mr. Spain, thank you for asking. I hope you and Mr. Romano are doing great as well?'

'Certainly,' I said. 'A bit moody as usual, but still the most amazing man I've ever laid my eyes on.'

'Great, good to know.'

'So!…'

'Well!…'

'…'

'…'

'…um, not to be rude or anything, Hernández, but I was actually about to have lunch. So… could you tell me why you called me? Not that I don't like chatting with you or anything! It's just that I didn't really expect a call from you.'

'Oh! Right, of course you're wondering why I called! Well… um… sorry for this, but I contacted you because I'd like to ask a favor of you… if you don't mind.'

I laughed. 'Don't be so formal, Hernández! You're my former personal doctor! I could always count on you, so of course you can count on me as well!~ What is on your mind? How can I help you out?'