You see, for the two Italian siblings, life had always been difficult, and their home with their grandfather and younger siblings had never been home, per se. It was just a roof with walls and a bed, to them, and their abusive grandfather never welcomed them.

Let's start somewhere closer to the beginning.

Lovino Romulus Vargas was the oldest, the first. His parents had been thrilled, but soon had another child after two years—Chiara Rosa. They had been just as thrilled, delighted by their fortune as they had just managed to get enough land to start a vineyard, their father's dream. Lovino and Chiara quickly became the inseparable pair, always getting in trouble together as soon as Chiara could walk. They'd run around the small vineyard, charming the employees and playing in the shade with bits of string and rocks and flowers. Without fail, they came in to dinner covered in dust or mud every day, hand in hand.

Then the twins were born—Feliciano Vittore and Alice Vecinna. Chiara and Lovino faded from sight as the twins grew up, matching all the time and perfect little angels who could do no wrong.

Lovino and Chiara were virtually invisible unless they got in trouble.

So they ran away together, taking a jar of grape juice and a bag of crackers, carrying with them a warm blanket and their shoes in their hands. They didn't know how far away the city was, but they were positive they could get someone to care about them there.

They couldn't have made it if they tried, even without the storm that caught them as they walked down the road, hands tightly gripped together as they shivered in the onslaught of rain.

Nobody noticed that they were gone until long past their bedtime.

By that point, all the employees had gone home and the only people left on the vineyard were their parents and siblings. But nobody cared, right? Lovino and Chiara, seven and five respectively, were curled up in a ditch at the side of the muddied road, cowering under the bright red wool blanket, trying to hide from the storm. That was where they were found, trembling and crying and whimpering, terrified for their lives.

Lovino was given a harsh scolding immediately, there in the rain, for running away and planting stupid ideas in Chiara's head, stealing food, and being a pain in the butt. In simple terms. Of course, he was the problem, as the oldest and clearly the most problematic.

On the way back, Alice kicked him and Feliciano stuck out his tongue.

Chiara hit them both.

Lovino only pulled Chiara close to him and kept her there, even if not physically, all the time. Who would stick out for him like that but her, now?

Chiara was definitely the most loyal sister a kid could have, although she was terrified of thunder to the extreme since that incident. But Lovino always held her safe in a storm, so she didn't worry much.

The real problems started after their parents were killed in a car crash, and the four children were sent to their grandfather's house, at the ages of eleven, nine, and seven.

Now, to fully understand these problems, one must understand the grandfather of these children. Remus Vargas was a real asshole, to the bone. He just covered it with a mask of cheer and stupidity. He drank frequently in large amounts, and really, he wasn't as old as one might have thought. He was only in his fifties, and was still a womanizer. Remus had always been a troublemaker, playing with women's skirts and throwing rocks at animals.

Yes, Remus was a pain in the butt as a child and even worse as he grew older.

When he heard of his son's passing and that his grandchildren needed a home, he welcomed two with open arms, leaving the other two at the door.

Lovino and Chiara were used to it by now. With a soft pat on the younger's shoulder, Lovino smiled tiredly. "Nothing new. Just you wait, I'll make him notice us." Chiara only nodded, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall. She wasn't supposed to cry anymore, unless nobody could hear her. And that was when the gentle, loving tradition of kissing each other's hands began, that very first day they lived in their grandfather's house, when Lovino took her hands from her face and pressed his lips to her knuckles. He had to make someone notice him, now. He knew his nonno wasn't a pleasant man. He was afraid they'd be beaten, their father had said he was often punished for things he did wrong.

So they took a room in the very corner of the house, which was given to them by a maid in Remus' vast collection. Had Lovino known the word, he would have labeled her as one of a thousand whores who would pass through the rooms unnoticed in their few short years there.

In the span of six years, Lovino and Chiara would indeed be punished for things they hadn't thought they'd done wrong, while their siblings were pampered and spoiled. It was only later that they learned the twins were doing the things the older pair had been scolded for—Angels, yeah right.

One night a few years later, Lovino was 15, Chiara was 13, it went too far while Remus was drunk. Lovino had been in the kitchen, cleaning up from dinner with a maid, but the house heard a sudden crash and a wail, followed by angry bellowing of a drunken Roman. A loud slap echoed through the house, and Lovino shot up the stairs. He knew Chiara was cleaning up the table, and that had been a plate that just shattered. It had to be her that was apologizing through a wail, her voice wavering through her tears.

When he emerged upstairs, the scene was awful and made everything in his sight go red. Chiara was a crumpled heap on the floor and Remus was about to hit her with his belt, swaying dangerously as his sister sobbed on the floor, hands covered in cuts from the broken plate. Without a moment to spare, Lovino threw himself in between them, taking the blow as he grit his teeth, wrapping his arms around Chiara as Remus bellowed at him to move it.

Snap after snap, Lovino refused to cry out, even as Feliciano and Alice and the maids appeared in the doorway, wide-eyed. Shaking, he ran his fingers through Chiara's hair soothingly, knees crunching in the ceramic of the plate and probably cutting through the knees of his pants to his skin. Soft murmurs, a grunt at each snap. Just trying to calm Chiara down. When her sobs were easing off into hiccups and sniffles, he murmured softly in her ear, "Don't move an inch, sorella."

And then he stood, turned to face Remus, and threw a well-placed punch to his face, slamming him back into the cabinet of dishes behind him. Both men were all fury, then, snarling threats at each other. Chiara never moved, and Lovino never let Remus get close to her. It ended with a last snap of the belt, straight across Lovino's face. Another punch, and the last words spoken in the room were a low growl from Lovino. "Don't you dare even think about touching my sister."

As Remus retreated to his room, Feliciano and Alice stood there uncertainly. Had it been their fault? Feliciano had sneakily put butter on the rim of every plate, knowing Lovino and Chiara were cleaning up and would never get rid of the fat. What they hadn't known was that Remus was going to drink that night.

Gently, Lovino ignored the twins and pulled his sister up, turning his face so she wouldn't see the massive welt already rising.

That was when Chiara swore to follow him until she died, to stick with him.

The pair were the closest anyone could be.

Up in their room, Chiara saw the state Lovino was in as he fell to the ground, trembling from the pain. "Lovino!" she cried, absolutely terrified. "I-I—Why did you let him do that?" It was a dumb question, she knew the answer. Pulling out the pitcher of water they had in their

room, ignoring her burning hands, she tried desperately to pull him up to get him in his bed. "Please let me help you, big brother," she whispered. "Please…" She swallowed. He looked awful.

Lovino let her pull him to his bed, just sitting there with his fury still on his face. "How dare he even touch you, the bastard." A soft protest of "Lovino!" was uttered at his language, but she knew he needed to talk. "It isn't ever going to happen again. I'm going to get someone to help. This isn't right and it fucking hurts like a piece of barbed wire." He grit his teeth, slowly pulling his shirt off his torso. This was becoming routine, him getting a beating and her dragging him to their room they insisted they kept together, him pulling off whatever article of clothing he needed to without her getting flustered and nervous, patching him up and him grabbing her close, just holding her there as if to make sure she was unharmed and still there with him.

"Chiara… I want to go to the war."

She froze for a minute. She couldn't follow him there, it wasn't allowed. "Why would you want to go there?" she choked out. "You'll get killed!"

She had a point. Swallowing thickly as she saw the massive red lines crisscrossing his skin, usually so dark and fine, she set to work wiping them off with the water from the pitcher. They were hot to the touch, and she knew it must hurt horribly. He didn't even move, just tensed up as the cloth she was using brushed over the streaks. "Because then I won't have to deal with him. And I'll make some money, we can move far, far away from him." He turned, grabbing her hand and bringing it to his lips. "And then we'll both be safe forever."

Chiara stayed quiet, just watching him. "But I won't… Big brother, you're not even old enough," she tried weakly, terror rising in her chest. "Please don't leave me, big brother," she whispered. He was going to go, anyways, and she knew it.

"Chiara, you know it's the only way. I'll come home from the war, and I'll take you to America. Everyone's going there, it's so much better than here. We could have a vineyard, and you could meet someone and get married or something," he said convincingly. "You could be the best mother and sweetest wife, if there were someone worth marrying."

His hand lifted up to her cheek, soothing her. Chiara leaned into it, her own hands shaking in his. "But… Big brother, what if you don't come back?" she whispered. "You can't just leave me, he'll kill me!" Tears threatened to fall. "I can't stay here without you! You might not come back!"

Lovino shook his head, pulling her closer to him. "I swear I'll come back, sorellina. I can't leave you too long, hm?" He picked up her hands, taking the cloth from her shaking fingers. "Sorella, your hands…" The older frowned as the other bit her lip harshly. "Are you still sick, Chiara…?" he asked quietly. She'd gotten horribly sick the last year, so bad she couldn't even move aside from her violent trembling.

She shook her head. "Big brother, that hurts!" she whimpered as his fingers pressed against the long gashes in her hand from the plate. "Please…"

Lovino frowned deeply, then began to clean her cuts tenderly. "Sit down, pet." She obliged, abashed as he cleaned her cuts. "And would you rather I keep around here and deal with the friends?" She shook her head, looking around nervously.

"If you don't do… That stuff," she said uneasily, "then I guess… M-Maybe…" Chiara didn't want him to leave her alone.

"I promise," he said seriously. "I'll not even look at them."

She fell quiet.

"… Don't get killed."

Lovino left for war the next day.

Lovino Romulus Vargas returned from war after 12 months to a tearful younger sister with bruises littering her skin under her dress. She stood at the end of the driveway at the gate silently, an old faded red wool blanket around her shoulders.

As she slipped through the bars of the gate, making sure nobody in the house saw her, Lovino scooped her into a huge hug, breathing in the smell of her hair and clothes and home. Oh, brave young soldier, don't let your guard down quite yet.

They left that night, not a goodbye and not a string of attachment to the house that plagued their nightmares.

To the home of the brave with them—that was certainly what they were.

The brave young siblings, two of millions to leave for America.