A/N: So this weird idea popped into my head and I absolutely HAD to write it.

Enjoy!

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The two had met in an unfortunate situation.

More than unfortunate, actually. Absolutely catastrophic would better describe it, if they were in a less controlled environment.

But since they met at a rehabilitation center, unfortunate would have to do.

The nurses wouldn't allow anything near catastrophic to happen.

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Kiku Honda was a short, reserved, Asian man with soulful eyes and a fondness for cute things. He once had two men vying for his attention, and he had loved them both to the moon and back. His heart was big enough for that.

They were a loving, argumentative, adorable threesome, the Jap, the Greek, and the Turk. They were in the prime of their lives, and they all had a wonderful, bright, future ahead of them, intertwined with the others'.

But how come one ended up empty, one ended up cold, and one ended up gone?

How come they all ended up worlds away from each other?

Kiku could only numbly think back to that seemingly glorious day when everything turned on its head.

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"Hey, Sadik, we're goin' to hit the groceries! You comin'?" Heracles called from the foyer, Kiku by his side.

"Yeah, I'm gonna catch up, don't worry! Have yer quality time with lil' Honda!" the gruff voice of the Turk called, its owner lying lazily on the couch, taking up space.

"Don't regret it, Adnan!" the olive haired man replied, ushering Kiku out with him.

"I won't, Karpusi! Bye, Kiku~"

The Japanese man smiled softly; his boyfriends' antics were so cute sometimes. He always got a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest when they fought over him. He climbed into the SUV that the three usually took to the supermarket, the eco-friendly cloth bag that they usually brought in his lap.

At the time, neither Heracles nor Kiku noticed the odd tone of voice Sadik was using, but when Kiku thought back, he could detect something odd about it.

The Greek man slid into the driver's seat, smiling warmly at Kiku, before shutting the door and gunning the engine.

The drive to the supermarket wasn't much different than usual, albeit with less chattering than when the Turkish man tagged along.

Pulling up into the parking lot, Kiku had felt at peace, loving every second of his life. That was going to change.

Heracles hopped out, followed by Kiku, and neither of them remembered to lock the car. Their neighbourhood was relatively safe, anyways.

The couple went through their grocery list as usual, adding a few extra snacks that were too hard to resist.

They were starting to feel worried; Sadik still hadn't shown up, and he was a man of his word.

"Traffic," Heracles reassured himself and Kiku.

The Japanese man nodded in agreement.

They checked out at a register where a rather pretty girl was painting her nails boredly. She offered them both a bright smile that screamed 'don't tell my boss'.

Kiku and Heracles exchanged amused glances.

"It's fine, ma'am."

The shorter smiled respectfully, placing their items on the belt.

She breathed a sigh of relief and checked their items out, placing them in the cloth bag.

"Have a nice day!"

They nodded and said they certainly would, before exiting.

The first thing they noticed was that their car was gone.

Stolen, without a trace.

Heracles was furious. Promising the Asian man that he would get it back, he ran off to find his beloved SUV.

Kiku waved, worried, and walked in the direction of their house.

The traffic was pretty backed up. He looked for a huge red Jeep, Sadik's car.

On the intersection of Forest and South, he found it.

Kiku ran towards it, bag of groceries bouncing on his hip.

But as he came closer, he noticed how horribly disfigured it was, and how there were swarms of police and medical teams around it. His legs pumped faster, the cloth bag dropping to the ground in his haste.

"SADIK!" his voice wrenched from his throat, panicked.

He saw the large, Turkish man.

Bile rose up in his throat.

There was blood. So much blood. The road was stained red, and those beautiful, murky green orbs were closed, lids covered with the red liquid.

Kiku ran up and shook his boyfriend furiously.

"Wake up, Sadik! Don't do this!"

"Sadik! Sadik! SADIK, STOP IT! SADIK-SAN!"

A policeman noticed this, and had to forcefully pry Kiku off.

"He's gone, sir, please, calm down."

Kiku numbly stared at the policeman, unable to believe it.

"Liar! Liar! You... Stop lying!"

He stood up and stumbled off, groceries forgotten, to tell Heracles. Heracles would wake Sadik up.

A search around town proved fruitless; Heracles was nowhere to be found.

Kiku sank to his knees in the middle of the park, small hands grasping the grass like a lifeline.

That was where the police found him, and took him away to be interrogated, and when that gave up no answers, sent him to the rehabilitation center.

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Kiku was now an empty shell, with his lovers gone and his hope emptied with it.

There was nothing holding him back from death besides the nurses that tended to his every needs.

Until he met Arthur.

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Arthur Kirkland was a British man with a temper as short as he was and eyebrows that defied the size capacity of eyebrows. He had a strange attachment to tea and anything magical. He once had two men that both loved him to the moon and back, and he tolerated them more than he tolerated the other people in the world.

The threesome was pretty entertaining to watch, actually, with the Frenchman flirting shamelessly and the American making terrible puns and the Brit flipping them both off. They were a family, though, and that's what mattered.

Or at least until a terrible accident tore that apart.

And Arthur couldn't help but blame it on himself.

After all, they ran in to save him.

It cost them their lives.

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"Hey, Artie, Frenchie, a new awesome ice cream parlour opened up! Wanna come with?" Alfred shouted excitedly, his loud voice resonating around the wide halls of their shared house.

"Ah, yes, Amerique, of course! I feel like going out for some frozen treats! How about you, Angleterre?" the smooth, silky voice of a certain Frenchman replied, using the nicknames for the countries they came from.

"Ice cream is so American, though. What about frozen yoghurt?" Arthur called, briefly looking up from his book.

"Two against one, Artie! C'mon, get your lazy butt off of that chair and let's go!"

"Sod off, you bloody twat."

He stood up anyway, knowing it was no use to defy Alfred.

The three of them walked to the parlour, for it was a beautiful day and Francis felt like eating the treats as they walked.

A tingling of a bell greeted their ears as they entered the shop, and Arthur immediately liked how magical the place seemed. Alfred ran up to the counter, ordering the largest scoop of 'Hero Flavour' that the store offered (it was actually just chocolate that was coloured red, white, and blue).

Francis ordered strawberry, claiming that it was the flavour of love. Arthur nearly retched at the cheesiness of the statement.

The Englishman himself ordered a pink lemonade flavoured scoop.

After paying and picking up their cups, they strolled outside, enjoying the sunshine and the ice cream. Arthur had to admit, it was pretty good.

He didn't notice how the other two men had slowed to better relish the food and the air.

He didn't notice that he was in the middle of the street.

He didn't notice the car that was hurtling towards him.

Francis and Alfred did.

"ARTIE!"

"ANGLETERRE!"

Screeching. Flying. A smash. Beeping. Silence.

His head was pounding. His ice cream was spilled all over himself, sticky and melting.

Arthur panicked. Was it blood? No, just ice cream.

Then why did he have such a sinking feeling in his chest?

He looked back.

He wished he didn't.

His lovers' bodies met his eyes, mangled and bleeding.

Oh no.

No.

He screamed.

He screamed in agony and pain and love and sickness and for everything that he was worth.

He cursed.

He cursed himself, Alfred, Francis, the sky, the ice cream, anything.

Why did this have to happen to him?

The police and rescue teams soon blared into existence, taking him away and brushing him off, asking him if he was hurt.

He cursed them.

He was brought in for a check up, and straight to rehab. They deemed him too 'mentally unstable' for any questions.

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Arthur was now a cursing machine, offended by each and every thing, hating himself and every thing in the world.

There was nothing keeping him alive besides the thought that he could bring them back to life with sorcery when he got out of that godforsaken rehabilitation center.

Until he met Kiku.

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Some higher up official had thought that letting the two unstable men interact would get them out of their shells. The nurses didn't argue.

Kiku was quietly led to a room that was meant to look like a lounge, but the locked door and absence of windows gave the true use away pretty easily. He sat down at the rounded, smoothened wooden table obediently.

Suddenly, a distinctly British voice pierced through the almost-silence, screaming nonsense like 'my army of unicorns is going to kill you, you hear me, you bloody maniacs?!'. He braced himself for the worst.

Instead of the crazy serial killer he was expecting, a rather handsome man was pushed in. Sure, his hair was disheveled and his eyes were unfocused, but he looked harmless, all skin and bones.

The door was swiftly locked behind them.

"To hell, all of you bloody wankers!" the Brit screamed at the door, but he settled into the chair across from Kiku nonetheless.

They stared at each other rather awkwardly.

"Ahem. Well, I'm Arthur. Arthur Kirkland, and I'm going to break out of here by force with an army of unicorns. You want to join me?"

Kiku had no idea what to say to that.

"I'm Kiku Honda. Nice to meet you, Arthur-san. I would be glad to accompany you." was what came out.

'Arthur' offered a hand.

Kiku shook it.

"Welcome to the team, Kiku."

Kiku smiled for the first time in two years.

"An honor, Arthur-san."

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That was actually pretty long! I might add an epilogue, if some people request it, but probably not.

Reviews are always welcome!

Tak and Best Wishes,

Wannabe-Danish-Cookie