In case you didn't know:
Hetalia=not mine


Stumbling his way through the early afternoon crowd of the unfamiliar market was nothing short of terrifying for the little Italian.

Feliciano had only ever visited the market a handful of times. Always with Lovino.

But, never without his brother, never with so many people, and never accompanying strangers.

It couldn't really be helped though, could it?

Being fairly short and thin for his age and gender (Lovino told him once that, as a child, Feliciano had been mistaken many a time for a girl) Feliciano darted between legs and under arms, releasing the Spaniards arm to find his own way through the wall of onlookers.

Feliciano didn't care, not about the people blocking his way, not the people struggling their way through the crowd after him.

'Lovi, Lovi, Lovi, Lovi-

No...'

Feliciano's brother was well-known for his snarky, short, cold, insufferable attitude, masking emotions always dancing in deep, soulful eyes that cut through you like a hot knife through butter.

On... bad days, Lovino's eyes were... dull, still filled with emotions, forced and hidden alike, but flatter.

Feliciano had never, ever seen his indestructible big brother's eyes look so blank and dark and... dead.

Lovino told him once before that the reason Feliciano didn't remember the night that killed their family was partly because he was too young.

And partly because it had been too traumatizing for his young, undeveloped brain and heart and body to handle.

Seeing Lovino, seeing his big brother look at him but not see him.

Looking into blank, dead, soulless eyes...

Brought back every memory and sensation he had ever forgotten and the sound that was ripped out of his chest was ungodly, raw and hoarse and high-pitched because oh my God that's Lovino!

But miracle upon miracles, his brother responded, blind and lost and broken as it was.

And Feliciano's heart stopped and broke because it was Lovino's head lifting up, it was red, bloody lips parting wide to show off yellow teeth and a raw, red throat, it was the slight shuffle of his feet and twitch of his fingers as Lovino tried to make his body move.

The undeniable pull against his heart brought Feliciano stumbling forward towards the broken mound that was his brother.

The hand that suddenly wrapped around his arm, just above his elbow, had other plans.

So, so close. Lovino was only a few yards away from him. So why? Why did God restrain him?

Feliciano turned, more from instinct than actual, consented desire, scared and frustrated and Feliciano wanted to cry because it just wasn't fair!

But Feliciano could only stare as his eyes locked with eyes like green fire (Lovino told him that sometimes the orange, yellow flames would change colors like blue and purple and green) for only a moment, less than a heartbeat and the Spaniard's gaze moved, locked on something behind Feliciano and the Italian could only bury his face in his hands and sob.

It was so... frustrating, not being able to help Lovino by himself, being forced to stand back as others helped him. Why was he so use-

And warm arms wrapped around his body, and Feliciano jumped, the beginnings of a squeal setting itself on his lips, taking a deep breath in through his nose because if he screamed, Lovino would come, he had to come, he always came.

But... this was as familiar as it was foreign, warm and safe and sure, strong and soft and... just...

No, he could not accept comfort like this! Not with his brother sitting cold and broken and cornered as he was.

And so Feliciano prayed "Please, please, please God no, do not take my brother, bestow unto me his sins, throw me into the fires of hell, let me take my brother's place, do not condemn him to a fate of which he does not deserve..." it was an old prayer, one Feliciano heard often, screamed to the heavens by preachers in the church he liked to sit outside of while Lovino was out, it was a simple prayer, strange, old, but simple, words that Feliciano could understand or at least take guess at.

"No." And for a moment he thought the word was spoken from the God above he prayed to, a rejection to save his brother, but the arms encircling his body tightened before releasing him all together, pushing him back and away, hands grabbing at his wrists and squeezing and shaking. "Your brother is going to be fine, you are going to be fine, neither of you will ever go to hell. Ever. I promise." and large, calloused hands trailed up, fingertips brushing against the material of his torn, filthy shirt, and over the skin against his neck, and warm, dry palms cradled his cheeks and thumbs brushed back and forth across his skin to whisk away and dry at the warm salt water still streaming down his face.

"Oh, God!" Feliciano cried out, flinging himself at the German's torso and almost shattered when a soft, warm breath puffed against his skin and strong, shy arms came to tenderly wrap around the small of his back because it had been so long, but this felt familiar, forgotten.

Pressing his face into the German's neck, Feliciano tried to lose himself in warm skin and sweet breath and strong arms.

Feliciano sensed more than felt the presence of his brother behind him but he couldn't bring himself to pick his head up, to look at his brother, he was afraid.

And then the hands, flat against the small of his back faltered and Feliciano clung because he knew that if he was released, he would lose the last anchor that tethered him to this Earth, he would lose his last shred of sanity because he couldn't take this anymore!

And Feliciano felt the change, felt the hands place themselves against the cloth that covered his back again and shift, gliding their way down to brace against the backs of his thighs and when the German lifted, Feliciano jumped, wrapping weak arms around the larger mans neck and coiling frail legs around a wide, sturdy waist and hiding himself in the collar of the German's shirt, not caring how much of a child he seemed because it didn't matter if he saved Lovino, it didn't matter that they were both, for now, safe.

He was, and always would be, the stupid, worthless little brother who couldn't do anything right.


Feliciano allowed himself to doze as the German carried him, just letting his mind go blank, he didn't think about Lovino or the man carrying him or the people around him or where he was, he was only aware that he was warm and that his eyes were closed.

"I'm going to put you down..." Until the chest he was pressed up against rumbled and the throat his nose was pressed against buzzed and the words were whispered into his hair.

And Feliciano clung because he didn't want to know if his body would hold him, he didn't want to be forced to hold himself together and protect himself and his brother and as much as he told Lovino that he was a big boy now, he didn't want to be and maybe if he stopped breathing he would disappear.

"Feli..." Wait, what? When did he...

Lips pressed against the shell of his ear and Feliciano stopped thinking because he couldn't.

"I will not leave you all alone, I will not make you hold yourself up. Your brother cannot stay out here, he needs to sleep, and I cannot open the door if you are clinging to me like this." Feliciano couldn't move, he couldn't breathe but his chest still expanded and he filled his lungs but was too shocked and uncertain and scared to do anything else because he can't do this!

"My brother once told me 'In the face of danger, there are only two people, those who are weak and those who are strong. Strength, however does not lie in ones abilities...'" The German pulled back and Feliciano lost himself in light blue eyes and soft words. "'Strength lies in your ability to be strong when those stronger than you are, and those you love, are weak.' You must be strong Feli, your brother is weak, he needs you as you have needed him."

It took Feliciano a moment to figure out exactly what the German was asking of him, what he was saying, and when he did, and Feliciano understood, he steeled himself because Lovino needed him and he could not be a child forever.

So, Feliciano unlocked his ankles from behind the German's waist and when his feet hit the ground, Feliciano was tempted to release the German all together because he wanted to be strong like the Spaniard and the German and his big brother but he was not stupid, he knew his legs wouldn't hold his weight, so, keeping a hold on thick, sturdy shoulders, Feliciano allowed the door to be unlocked and swung open and reality and realization struck and Feliciano lost his nerve, holding onto the German with new vigor.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I can't. I can't do it. I can't he strong like my big brother and you and I never will be!" The apology was whispered, breathed, frantic, and Feliciano fully expected to be whacked upside the head because that was how Lovino... comforted him.

But the next words mumbled were not aimed at him. "Perhaps we should wait for Gilbert and Francis inside, get him down on a bed." Feliciano stayed silent. "Antonio..." The footsteps stilled and Feliciano wondered what or who 'Antonio' was, trying to decide if that was the Spaniards name or a word in another language meaning 'wait' or 'stop' or something. "We'll make this work, everything will work out, I'm sure." And Feliciano couldn't hold back his whimper but the German only tightened his hold around him.

Feliciano wondered if he was right, if this would all work out.

He really, really hoped it would.

Because God could not be that cruel.

He simply couldn't.


I'm sorry, I really have nothing interesting to say.