In case you didn't know:
Hetalia=I don't own


"But I want to help you." stay or go? "And I can't if you don't trust me." trust or call bull? Feliciano sobbed again, to go against everything his brother had ever taught him or to believe a stranger in the hope that it won't all go south?

Falling against this German's chest, Feliciano found he didn't mind that he didn't have a choice, Lovino was a strong big brother but this man was a rock, a wall, a tank, stronger and surer and, dare he say it? Safe-

No, no he didn't dare...

"Please!" Save Lovino, do not betray him, do not make this a mistake, Feliciano didn't know what he was begging for anymore.

And he really didn't care.

Relief made his knees give out, in his defense, he tried to straighten, tried to catch himself, the blond was faster, stronger, lifting Feliciano up and turning to the other two men that Feliciano had completely forgotten about, suggesting they go inside.

Inside... Feliciano hadn't been inside a house in... since...

Was it a bad thing that he didn't remember?

"Please don't hurt me." It was a weak beg, even to Feliciano's ears, he didn't even know why he made the watery request, it was a plea, nothing more, nothing less, it could not truly protect him.

"Never." But his response was so strong and so sure, it left no room for argument or denial, and whatever comfort the single, grunted word lacked was easily made up for in the German's soft, strong touch.

Touch, now that was something that Feliciano had not truly known for a very long time, if ever.

All of his memories of touch were of Lovi, as was any other memory...

Touch: a gentle hand pressed against his forehead for a fraction of a second, the coolness quickly replaced by hot, rapid-fire curses in the Italian's native tongue. A weeks worth of hot, restless, feverish nights and long, guilty, helpless glances from his brother who could not bring him the comfort and aid he so desperately craved.

Touch: a firm hand pressed against the back of his head, a warm, solid body, a soft, gentle voice, all forgotten the next morning, replaced by sharp commands to get up and let go of me! until he could gather the courage to wake his brother after another nightmare.

And then there was the more... resent memories, the first made without Lovino.

Touch: rough hands grabbing and jerking, too hot and overwhelming and terrifying as they suffocated him, too close and too fresh and... and...

And Feliciano didn't want to think about it anymore.

But, that had been his brothers touch, few and far between and fleeting, quickly repressed and forgotten, this was...

Warm and soft and strong, it was jumpy hands that did not know where to place themselves but when they did they did not stray, it was being pressed up against a warm chest that housed a heart that fluttered too fast and too loud before slowly steadying itself into a constant, comforting pound, it was a gentle, natural, soothing sent that wreathed itself around Feliciano and cocooned him like a baby in a blanket.

Warm and soothing and comforting and Feliciano wanted to sleep, but the German carrying him crossed the threshold and the scary, white-haired one pulled a chair out for him to be sat down on and Feliciano knew he could not sleep.

Not in a strange house with many scary, strange people and his brother's fate still unknown.

Not with baby blue eyes that suddenly hardened as he looked up to lock with Feliciano's and reached out to cradle his shaking hands.

Not with this sudden, fresh, new fear that washed over him and shut down his brain until the only thing that Feliciano could think of anymore was what Lovino had always told him:

Trap.


Feliciano had not been aware that his hands were shaking until the German reached out and grabbed them, cradling them his own, large, calloused ones.

Blue eyes tried to lock with his own brown ones and he could not bring himself to do it. He felt hot and scared and cornered, in a place he did not know surrounded by people he did not know staring at him, he could feel it.

The finger that slipped its way underneath Feliciano's chin made him freeze, eyes wide and body stiff.

But his body did not resist the slight pressure that turned and tilted his head until he was looking into the German's baby blues and everything disappeared. The house, the room, the people, all of it, gone.

The terror increased ten-fold.

"Now," the word came out in a soft, almost sweet, breath, but Feliciano felt a natural tremor build up in a flinch, instinctive, as though violently struck, but his body could not seem to bring itself to move.

The hand that came up to cup his cheek felt so hot and rough and no, no, no more, please no more. "Tell me what's got you so frightened." This time, when Feliciano felt the spasm of pure terror, if he could even call it that anymore, he saw, more than felt, his body move.

His desire to remove himself from the people and place and situation forced his voice to let loose an almost inhuman noise that Feliciano barely processed, but he continued.

"I want to help you..." no. No, no, no, NO! And for a moment, for a fraction of a second, Feliciano wondered how he could be so useless, he came here to help his brother, accepted this mans help to get it, and now, what? He was chickening out in the worst way possible...

"Yes..." was he that easy to read? Could this man pick up the firm denial that he had chanted like a mantra in the hope that this was another nightmare? "I do, but I can't if I don't know the problem..." why was this so hard? But the hand that still rested against the side of his face moved and a thick thumb moved back and forth across his skin and he continued. "What is it that you are looking for..." please, please, no more... "Let me help you."

Unable to hold onto his last shred of strength, Feliciano felt his body curl in on itself, arms that were too thin and too short wrapping around his middle in a failed attempt to imitate the comfort that his brother so often brought him. Why wasn't it working?

Hot, thick tears rolled down his cheeks, quickly brushed aside by thumbs that were too thick and too rough and too hot to be Lovino's but too comforting and soft to bring himself to reject the touch.

"He..." Could he even remember anymore? Could he gather enough memories of the man who lived that night to give this man, this German, the information he needed to help Lovino?

Feliciano doubted it.

"He lives here," Or, at lest, Feliciano assumed he did. Lovino had looked so shocked after seeing whatever he'd seen in this house, the same look he harbored that night. "He came in the night and my brother didn't shoot him... he has to help me... he has to help us!" His throat feet raw from the sobbing and screaming, he could feel his voice rise hysterically and he couldn't tell if he was still speaking English.

But the German asked another question: "I need more than that..." Not really a question but a statement in need of an answer, but Feliciano had nothing left to give him, he could not remember the height or hair color or eye color or any other information at all, just that a man who lived here came in the night and his brother couldn't bring himself to shoot him.

"Who is 'he'? what does he look like?" But Feliciano couldn't remember!

New footsteps, another breathing body, another heartbeat and the room came back into focus because 'There were more?'

Feliciano's head came up eyes scurrying up a long, lean torso to lock with-

Deep, wide, emerald-green eyes.

The world tilted and warped and Feliciano felt sick, his body stumbling forward without his consent or realization, hands reaching out and clinging to thin cloth that covered a firm chest and when that softly accented Spanish voice stammered out the first four letters of his name...

The world clicked because this was the man from that night, this was the man who would help him save Lovino, this was the man who Feliciano had been so frantically searching for.

Was it supposed to be this easy?

Feliciano was getting really used to not caring.

"You have to help me! You have to help him!" And Feliciano grabbed at his hands and pulled putting all of his weight into the action because he couldn't bring himself to speak in normal sentences because Feliciano finally found him and Lovino was still an unknown.

"Take me to him! Now!" And whether the Spaniard pulled him or Feliciano pulled the Spaniard, he didn't know, but what he did know was that he had finally found the man to help him and he and God would help them.

Or, at the very least, help Lovi.

Because if Lovino was allowed to work himself dead to take care of Feliciano, then this was the least Feliciano could do.

God as his witness, Feliciano would save his brother.

And God strike him dead if he wouldn't.


It is so hot here... I came to Redding to visit my father and I am dying...

I really don't have anything to say.

Ja ne (see you)