GAH I LOVE YOU ALL! Although you are all so amazing, this chapter, I have to recognize one particular reviewer. ZEXIONIENZO! You were my first reviewer and have reviewed all nice on every single chapter! Thank you from the depths of my heart. I was about to make a joke about cholesterol but I think it may have ruined the moment so I controlled myself.

THANK YOU SOO MUCH DWAN-DWAN FOR LETTING ME USE YOUR WI-FI TO PUBLISH THIS! I AM FOREVER IN YOUR GRATITUDE! I LOVE YOU (NO HOMO)! BUT SERIOUSLY, NO ONE WOULD EVER READ THIS IF NOT FOR YOU! I DEDICATE THIS CHAPTER TO YOUR AWESOMENESS! And sorry for being a Wi-Fi moocher…

Also, italics mean it's a dream. So, I will put the name of the dreamer in bold after the "~0~". Things in (( )) means that I am interrupting to say lame crap. NOW ON WITH THE STORY BEFORE YOU ALL ABANDON ME!

Oceanic 815: Chapter 4

"What?" Lovino inquired.

Antonio sighed, "You can trust me Lovi. We're trapped on an island, and I don't think we're getting back anytime soon. You need a friend, and I'll always be here for you. Now, what is it that's bothering you?"

"Nothing. I'm just tired of the same old sh*t over and over again, and YOU aren't helping!" Romano cleared the tears away from his eyes, and loosened away from the Spaniard. He felt as if he was becoming too attached to this man, and although he would never admit it to anyone, much less himself, he had enjoyed their embrace of which he had pulled away from recently. It sickened him. Not only did he hate the feeling of strange happiness whenever in the presence of Antonio, but he was also repulsed by the fact that he was a guy. He would absolutely NOT continue carrying on in such a way with this person and in his mind: THAT was a mathematical certainty.

Lovino huffed off, strutting away to another part of the forest where he could be alone. The Spaniard ran after him, panting as he stopped in front of the Italian. He grabbed Lovino's shoulders with his hands and asked him, more serious than anything the Italian had ever heard him speak to him before, "Why do you keep running from me? I keep trying to get closer to you, but you just try to get rid of me. Why don't I deserve a chance?"

"Because, b*stard, I just met you and you act like you've been in my life forever. I don't like you intruding like this and thinking everything is still f*cking great. We're on a d*mn deserted island and-" Lovino was interrupted by a loud roaring noise in the distance.

"GAH!" He screamed, clinging to Antonio. Although fearful of the sound, he was also confused as to what Lovino's feelings of him were, since he was constantly being clung to in emergency situations, yet called a 'f*cking b*stard' and insulted in other ways the remainder of the time. Romano continued, "The f*ck was that?" Antonio looked around him, finding nothing.

The Spaniard's eyes grew wide and he stammered out, "I-It sounded like a-a… dinosaur." His voice became fainter when he whispered, "What-What the hell is going on here?" The unseen beast roared once more and the two crouched down and crawled over to a brushy area and hid in the many thick leaves of the tropical bushes together. They didn't want to be seen by whatever made that noise. Hearing each other's soft breaths, and feeling one another's warmth, they remained in that area until night fell upon them. And NO, it was seriously not gay at all. Not even kidding.

"I haven't heard that… whatever it was in a while. Do you think it's safe now, Lovi?" Antonio whispered, his face uncomfortably close to Romano's.

Lovino paused, and then whispered back, "You can go if that's what you want. I don't see the point of going back to the d*mn beach with all the other a*sholes when I'm perfectly fine staying here for the night."

The Spaniard was taken aback, "So, you're saying that I can stay here with you?"

"No sh*t, b*stard. Didn't you hear me? It's not like it's a big deal," Romano's reply came. Antonio beamed, snuggling closer to Lovino. The brunette added on to what he had previously said after noticing this, "I didn't f*cking say you could rape me, you b*stard!"

Antonio laughed a little bit and scuttled away a little bit, "Sorry, Lovi: I'm just a really touchy-feely person." Lovino rolled his eyes and mumbled something intended as an insult. Soon, the small Italian fell asleep. In his sleep, he moved closer to Antonio who couldn't seem to fall asleep, so he wound up with Lovino's head resting on his chest. Not that he was complaining. At all. No Siree Bob.

Soon, the younger Italian began to talk in his sleep. "No… Not… This isn't…. Why…" Lovino had broken out in a cold sweat and had a pained expression. Antonio shook him awake, careful not to hurt him but also certain that he would be able to wake him.

~0~

Lovino

My vision cleared and blurred to the beat of my pounding heart. I cleared my raspy throat as I continued running, hands pulling at the neck of my shirt. It felt tight around my neck, like I was being choked. I couldn't breathe suddenly. My knees gave out and I fell to the pavement of the vacant parking lot, several metres away from a hard, steel fence, lined with barbed wire. Tears welled up in my eyes when I realized that there was no hope for me. I was going to die here, beaten to death by this horrific gang of people I had pissed off in some unfortunate way. They appeared behind me. I knew this because while I kneeled, palms on the ground, my face between my arms, one of them kicked me in the back of my left thigh, leaving a bruise that wouldn't fade. You can imagine how much that hurt. Another grabbed the back of my head, by my hair and jerked my head up, slamming my face into the fence. They all took turns kicking and punching me until I was bleeding from almost everywhere. Both of my ankles were broken, along with my nose and left wrist. They left me to die. I was in the middle of nowhere. I tried to scream but my throat was raw and I couldn't speak. My vision cleared enough for me to see an empty beer bottle a few inches out of my grasp. I army-crawled the best I could over to it, my numb legs dragging against the pavement. I took it into my right hand and smashed it against the ground with all of my remaining strength. I took a large, sharp piece and sobbed as I brought it to my wrists, cutting a deep vertical cut along the faint blue of the vein, attempting to end my life. It hurt, but the pain wasn't even close to that I was feeling everywhere else in my body. I vomited from the sting of the cut and blood loss, and choked, coughing and coughing. Soon, a car drove by, noticing the bloodstained fence and the boy in front of it, bleeding out everywhere. He left me. I noticed that the cut wasn't deep enough to kill me, so I took another piece of glass from the bottle, when-

~0~

"LOVI! WAKE UP!" Antonio yelled as he shook Romano. He gasped, as if he were not able to get enough air, no matter how hard he tried. "Are you okay, Lovi?"

"F*cking peachy," Lovino muttered.

The Spaniard looked warily at him. Although it was dark out, Lovino could still tell by the atmosphere that Antonio was worried. He assured him, "It was just a dream. About something that happened when I was younger."

"What was it that happened? You were talking in your sleep," Antonio asked.

Lovino rubbed his eyes and began, "When I was about 10, a few years ago, when my dad was still around, I had a lot of enemies. I lived in a lot of different places because he cheated a lot of people, and had to get away from them to prevent further trouble. These teenagers confronted me, saying that their parents were in some shit because my dad conned them. My dad, he didn't like labels, but he was a con-man, through and through; crude, murderous one at that. I still had a lot of respect for him though, only because he was my father but still, I wouldn't listen to anyone talk crap about him. I told them that my dad could do what he wanted and was just in general, acting like a total asshole brat. I acted tough to try and stick up for my dad who wasn't even worth standing up for. They didn't appreciate it so they chased me. I started to run, but one of them tripped me and I fell on my wrist, breaking it. Then, I ran away from them, into this parking lot, but I collapsed by a fence and they…" His voice cracked, "They beat on me. I was bleeding, my ankles were both broken, I was done. So I took a," Lovino sniffed, and Antonio realized that he was crying, remembering far too vividly what torture that event in his life had been. He tried to continue through his sobs, "I took a bottle and I broke it. And I took a big, sharp piece and I cut myself with it. I tried to kill myself, Toni. That was how much it hurt. I thought that I would die there, so I decided to kill myself like a d*mn p*ssy instead of dying slowly. I slit one wrist, and I threw up. But it still wasn't deep enough to kill me so I was about to slit the other, deeper that time. A car or two passed by, but they didn't see me. That; or they didn't care that a ten year old was brutally beaten and tried to kill himself. I'd like to think that our world isn't sick and twisted enough where people would do absolutely nothing when there is a kid dying right before their eyes though, so I've always remembered it as them just being too busy driving to see me. But then, right before I ended it all, some pizza delivery guy, he saved me. He saw me, and he stopped. He must've been only 16, but he got out of the car and looked. He noticed what I was trying to do and begged me not to. He said everything would be okay. I was carried into his car and he took me to the hospital, after he temporarily bandaged the major wounds. All the way there, he would tell me, 'we're almost there; don't worry, you'll be okay' and nice things like that. He restored my faith in humanity. Ever since my mom died when I was only about 7, I never believed that the world was a good place. My dad was never home, on account of his 'work'. When he was, he would always be drunk. All the people I met, because of him, were almost never nice to me. They hated me because of him. I was always travelling too. My brother, Feliciano, he was my only friend. I can remember hearing gunshots sometimes downstairs. Feli and I would hide upstairs, in our room, telling one another lies about how things were going to get better. One time, I actually managed to fall asleep. When I woke up in the middle of the night, I forgot about the events that had ensued downstairs earlier and I went downstairs to get a drink of water. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I remember seeing him there, wearing rubber gloves, cleaning blood off the floor, and wiping fingerprints. He had killed someone. He told me to go upstairs, but I couldn't stop staring at the blood. If the body had still been there, I think I might've had a panic attack or something. It was a horrible sight. I knew that my dad had killed people but I had always stayed upstairs with Feli, never actually seeing anything. He walked over to me angrily and grasped my chin with his blood-stained gloves. He whispered in a very strict, quiet voice that reeked of madness, 'I said: get you're a*s upstairs, now'. Well I ran my a*s upstairs, terrified of what had happened. I had a dead man's blood on my face. That put a damper on my relationship with the entire world in general. No little kid deserves to live like that, let alone see something like that, believe me. Then, that man who saved me revived my hope. He was so kind to me. He didn't tell the doctors what the cuts on my wrist were from. That kept me out of whatever institutes they have for suicidals, and I was thankful. You don't know how much of a debt I was in to him. I would be dead if not for him. I didn't even know his name. He left when I was being bandaged up, right after he told the nurses all the information that the doctor would need. I-I never saw him again since then."

Antonio was speechless, but only for a few seconds. "Do you dream about this often?" He asked curiously.

"Every. Single-"

"Every night?" The Spaniard assumed.

Lovino corrected, "I was going to say 'Every time I sleep'. That's more accurate because it's a really vivid dream; I'm usually too scared to sleep because of it."

"Well, I'm here for you, and I'll be sure to do something if you dream about it again, okay? I can't say I know how you feel; my childhood was pretty average. But, I know where you're coming from and I can try to help you. I said that earlier. You don't seem to believe me but I want you to know it," Antonio said in attempted to soothe the Italian.

~0~

Soon, Alfred was told that he could go, if he wanted, since the stitching was complete and he wasn't really accomplishing much anyway being there, other than enraging a pregnant woman who was still recovering from shock. Really, Ludwig just wanted him gone. The blonde was about to turn and walk away when he felt a powerful hand rest on his shoulder. He rotated and came face to face with a large Russian man, seeming to radiate an aura of darkness. "Hey! Can I help you with something? After all, I'm the hero!"

"You are hero, da?" He asked, as more of a sarcastic statement. "We are trying to identify everyone on island, what is your name?"

He chuckled and grinned, "I can help you with that for sure! My name is, it's um," He began stammering out of control before asking a simple question, "Who am I?"

Ivan nodded, "I see you may have suffered memory loss. After you look through identification papers, go see Ludwig. He will see if everything okay, da? Meanwhile, we have found many passports and such things. If you can find yours, it will have picture on it. You will see name and more information. It will help you remember." The Russian smiled, but it was a smile like that of a child's, with hidden murderous intent. The American was handed five remaining passports. The rest remained in Ivan's hands, as they had already been claimed. Alfred opened the small black booklets, each to the same page: the one with the small pictures of one neutral-faced person on each. The first had the name "Arthur Kirkland" on it. His eyes lit up in seeing that picture.

"This guy, he looks familiar. D'ya think I know him or something?" Alfred inquired.

Ivan replied immediately, "I believe you do, you two appeared to be dating or something when I witnessed the two of you on the plane before the crash. I will get him, da? Wait here. Continue looking at the pictures, see if you can find yourself."

Alfred waved Ivan goodbye and turned back to the pictures. There was someone named "Francis Bonnefoy", a shady looking fellow with long blonde hair. Nope, that wasn't him. Flipping to the next photo, he saw "Lovino Vargas" who looked like a pissy a*shole of a kid. That was most definitely not him. Then, there was a Spanish guy, "Antonio Fernandez Carriedo". Finally, he found a blonde, making an awkward face, which he recognized as himself. "I'm… ALFRED JONES!" He shouted joyously. "D*mn, I'm one sexy dude," the blonde smiled, admiring his passport photo.

He was interrupted by Ivan clearing his throat. Alfred turned to him and laughed, "I found me! I'm… Alfred Jones!"

"Oh my gawd, it's Iggy!" Alfred cheered, looking at the short man beside Ivan. He pounced on him and hugged him.

Arthur shot him a dirty look and pushed him off, "Who the bloody hell are you? Get off of me, you wanker!" Alfred loosened away from Arthur. His heart seemed to stop beating, his throat feeling like he had just dry-swallowed a pill, his eyes clouding.

"Y-you don't remember me?" He asked, hoping it was a joke.

Arthur scoffed, "I don't know who the f*ck you are, but I think you need to see a doctor."

Ivan's face remained emotionless. "Well then, Alfred. I would like passport documents back. I still have much work to do." He said this as he collected the papers from Alfred's shaking hands.

"And I have to go and actually do something with my time. Our plane just crashed, so excuse me, I'd like to help out with all the people who are injured and dying."

With that, Arthur stomped away in a sassy manner. Alfred fell to the ground on his knees. He felt like dropping dead right there. That picture had been like a key, unlocking all of his memories of Arthur. He knew that only a few hours before, they had been telling each other that they loved one another and no matter what, would always stay together. ((That makes me think of that song, "Strange Disease" by "Prozzak. ~Only two weeks ago, you said you'd never leave me, but here I am alone~. Déjà vu. ANYWAY, I've spoiled this moment so I'm switching perspectives. Prussia insanity now!))

~0~

"Hey, have any of you seen this guy, Matthew Williams? He's got blue eyes and longish blonde hair. He was on the plane!" Gilbert repeated to various people he encountered whilst on the beach. Almost everyone replied with a 'no' after very little thought. One person built up his hopes by claiming that he had seen him, but when he was lead to him, it turned out that it was only his friend Francis. "Gah, you're not the one I was looking for, Francis!" He said sarcastically in dismay.

"Well, pardon moi! I'm sorry I'm not the one you're looking for!" The Frenchman exclaimed, continuing with, "Who is it that you are trying to find, then?"

Gilbert sighed, "Matthew. He's that blonde guy I was talking to on the plane briefly. I went over and sat next to him near the end of the ride, remember?"

Francis pondered that statement for a few long seconds, "Well, mon ami: I did notice that you left and never came back but when I looked for you, I couldn't find you. Then, when I went to go see where you had gone, I saw you sitting alone. It was only once that I looked, but I'm sure that you were the only one in that set of seats."

Gilbert was taken aback by this revelation but he remained logical and calm. "Oh yeah, you must've came when he was talking to the co-pilot about something. He was gone for about five minutes. Talk about bad timing. Anyway, if you can't help, I have to go and find him by my awesome self." France waved as Gilbert rushed away and he was left by himself. For a person who was so calm and certain about things, the albino Prussian was walking quite fast and panicky. 'Wasn't he on the plane with his brother?' was the "ingenious" thought that rushed into Gilbert's mind. He was trying to think of what his name was or where he might go about finding him, when he bumped into someone he recognized as Arthur Kirkland. His eyes narrowed. He really didn't like him. He didn't like him at all, in fact. Anyone who would treat Matthew like he was nothing wasn't a friend of his, regardless of whether he knew them personally. "You seen Matthew anywhere?" He managed to say.

"Why the bloody hell would I know who your d*mn Matthew is? Was this plane headed to a mental asylum? What's everyone asking me these stupid questions for? First that Alfred wanker, now you!"

"Alfred, where is he, then?" Gilbert replied quickly and with an uncaring expression as to the British man's concerns.

The blonde Englishman groaned, "He's back there. Have fun, that bloke is bonkers." He rolled his eyes and pushed past the Prussian.

Gilbert walked in the direction that he had been pointed in by Arthur. He soon found Alfred, and approached him. "Hey, Alfred, uh-"

He was interrupted by the American's loud "Hey, dude! Do I know you?"

"No, not really. I know of you though. I met your brother on the plane and I really want to know where he is and if he's okay. Do you know where he is?" Gilbert asked.

Alfred made an awkward face and said, "Yeah… one problem with that: I don't have a brother."

"What do you mean? His name is Matthew Williams. He sat behind you on the plane! He was travelling with you when the plane crashed! Jesus, how can you not remember your own brother?" Gilbert shrieked.

"My name is Alfred Jones. I am an only child who was picking up Arthur from the London airport. We had to get a connecting flight and on the second one, the plane crashed here. I was travelling alone other than Arthur. There wasn't a seat behind me either. We were at the very back of the plane. I don't know what you are talking about."

Gilbert rolled his eyes and walked off, shouting behind him, "You sir, are an a*shole, unworthy of my awesome time. I hope you're happy when Matthew gets seriously hurt because you are stupid. Goodbye."

~0~

Matthew

I was jogging down the stairs, my mother calling me down for dinner, just like any other day. Suddenly, I felt as if I was pushed and I came crashing down the stairs. My leg was bent in a weird way, trapped beneath me. I was in pain, my head bleeding, my arms cut up from the wood of the staircase. I lay at the bottom, unable to speak. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I was screaming for my mom for about five minutes before I gave up. No one would hear me. I would have to wait for them to find me, which wouldn't be long since it was dinnertime and my mom thought that it was right to eat together, as a family. If I didn't come to the table soon, she would have to look for me, right? A half hour passed, where all that happened was nothing. I couldn't move, all I could sense was the slow dripping of blood from my head onto the floor. As I slipped into unconsciousness, I saw a vaguely familiar albino grinning maliciously down upon me. He lifted up his foot and brought it down quickly upon my skull, instantly crushing it and killing me. There was nothing after that.

"Holy sh*t, Matthew, is that you? If I wasn't so awesome, I probably wouldn't have recognized you! You need to see a doctor! Are you in pain?" Gilbert shrieked once he saw Matthew, wincing as he looked at his surroundings. He had been unconscious for a few hours now, and had just woken up.

Matthew said in a faint voice, "No, I'm okay. I don't need a doctor." He ran his hands over his face, feeling where he had cuts, bumps and bruises.

"No, you're really NOT okay! Look at your face: it's-it's," The Prussian's voice trailed off and he stared in awe at Matthew's face. He grabbed a large shard of reflective metal from the sand beneath him and held it up to the blonde Canadian's face. The wounds on his face where his hands had been were healing before his eyes. "What the hell, Mattie?" Gilbert whispered in awe and fear. "It-it-it's healing on its own! How are you doing that?"

"I don't know," came Matthew's soft reply. He was so afraid at that moment. His dream had warned him about Gilbert and now he had healing hands. What was going on with him? And more importantly, what kind of island would have the ability to do something like this?