Hello again. I guess no one will be terribly upset because I decided to upload this a day early, eh? ^^ Just felt like doing something to celebrate that I had an exam today, and that I don't have to worry about that any longer (at least until I find out how well/bad I did)! Always feels great when you're finished with an important exam~ So anyways, here's a chapter for you guys, enjoy!

oOo

"Antonio! Hey, wait up!" He didn't slow his pace, biting his lip as he shoved his hands further down his pockets. "Hey...!" A hand grabbed hold of his arm, and he came to an abrupt stop, face red with embarrassment and tears burning in his eyes despite his best attempts at forcing them away.

"Go away, Bella. Leave me alone."

"Listen, he didn't mean it... You know he didn't, that's just the way he acts sometimes and-"

"But he's right, isn't he?" It was impossible to stop the angry tears that seemed to decide it was time to escape down his cheeks, and he turned to face his friend completely. She eyed him sadly, looking like she wanted to protest again. Antonio didn't give her the chance. "I'm just a parentless good-for-nothing. Who am I to say my parents didn't just leave me because they couldn't be bothered with a stupid kid?"

"I don't believe that for a second, and neither should you!" Despite her sweet nature, Bella knew how to look and act like a strict mother-hen at times. With her hands planted firmly on her hips, she eyed him fiercely, yet somehow managed to look compassionate at the same time. "Willem can be a jerk sometimes, you know that. He doesn't mean anything by it."

"This isn't just about Willem... I just..." Antonio's anger faded and he paused, drying off his tears and trying to sort through his emotions and thoughts. "I just wish I knew where I came from, you know?"

Bella looked at him for a moment before smiling that warm smile of hers, taking his hand in her own.

"Does it really matter?" she asked matter-of-factly. "No matter where we come from, we're alive. Sure, some of us got parents, some of us don't, but isn't it more important to be happy for what you do have, than crying for what you don't?"

Those words seemed to echo through the air, as everything slowly began to fade away, leaving behind a strange emptiness. Antonio stood still, watching with wonder as Bella and his past self walked away, until they too disappeared along with their surroundings. He remembered that day clearly, but this was the first time he'd seen it from this angle. It was strange, seeing a younger image of himself and his friend from a distance, almost like watching a scene from an old video tape.

As they faded away from view, he began looking around, wondering what he was doing here in this empty space. There were no sensations here, no cold or warmth, no black or white. Just an infinite void of grey, surrounding him on all sides. It wasn't claustrophobic, though. In fact, it was a rather pleasant place to be, even if he couldn't remember how he got there or why.

"What is this place?" he mused out loud, noting how his voice echoed around him, almost as though he was standing in a tall cave. "Where do I go from here?"

Taking a step, he was surprised to find that every step he took sent ripples of light across the surface under his feet. For some reason, he imagined this was what it was like to walk on the still surface of a dark sea. It didn't stop him, instead it encouraged him to walk further.

It was hard to tell how long he was walking, as time didn't seem to be essential in this place. Gradually far away voices had begun replacing the silence. He recognized a few words and some sentences, but mostly it was like listening to a radio frequency set between two channels, in such a way that the two mixed within each other, making no sense at all. At times, the sounds were more focused and rung clearly through the void. Other times they sounded further away, distant and muted.

Sleeping... Scared... Dead...?

Lifting his head towards the empty space over him, he noticed for the first time that ripples were sent across that space as well; a mirror reflection of the ones created by his own steps.

Bullet... Fever... Lost...?

A figure suddenly appeared ahead of him, and he stopped in bewilderment, cocking his head as he squinted in order to see better. Walking a bit closer, he eventually recognized the figure, coming face to face with himself. More precisely, a child-version of himself. The child looked at him with large green eyes. Antonio was somewhat surprised by the large variety of emotions in the child's eyes, because he himself felt so numb and neutral.

Come back...

"Hello," he said, reaching out for the child. But the child only gazed back at him sadly, taking a step back before he could touch him. Shaking his head, the child raised his hand to point at something behind Antonio. Antonio was confused, wondering what was behind him, but finding it hard to turn around to see for himself.

Wake up...

"Why?" What was he questioning? Even he wasn't completely sure, but this simple word seemed to cover the most of his inquiries. Why was he here? Why couldn't he touch his own past self? Why was it so hard to turn? Why did the soft words spoken in the distance sound so familiar?

Please...

"I can't..." he whispered, struggling a bit more desperately to turn around. In place of the previous numbness, urgency now pulled at his heart.

Come back to us... To me...

That voice... He knew that voice. Fighting harder, he noticed that the more he managed to turn, the more transparent did his child self appear. The child nodded with a small smile, conveying a silent message. He had to turn back – he was walking in the wrong direction.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, he managed to turn completely, feeling a pair of small, warm hands pushing him forward in the direction he'd just come from.

Antonio...!

oOo

"Antonio...? H-hey, I think he is waking up!" It wasn't the same voice, although this too was familiar. Blinking as light crashed against his senses, momentarily putting everything out of focus, he took a breath. The scent in the air was unmistakable, but he couldn't understand what he was doing in a hospital. Closing his eyes again, he sighed, welcoming the dull darkness that replaced the blinding light. He couldn't seem to go back to that grey space, though.

"Toni? Hey... Are you awake?"

Forcing himself to open his eyes again was hard, but at least this time his sight cleared and the lamp in the roof was no longer just a golden blob. If his eyelids felt heavy, his body was ten times worse; he had a feeling he wouldn't have been able to move his limbs at all, even if he had wanted to.

Moving his lips to answer, he found that his throat was too dry, only allowing him to give a sound that somehow brought out the image of a dying frog. Whoever was speaking to him seemed to catch on to it, and soon he had a glass of water at his lips, allowing him to take slow sips. It was deliciously refreshing to feel the cool liquid clear his throat. When was the last time water had tasted so good, he wondered distractedly.

"Not too fast, you'll only get sick. Trust me, I know." There was a small snort, followed by a dull slap and then an indignant "Ouch! I was only trying to make a conversation-"

"Antonio?" This was the first voice again, and this time he recognized the accent, although it seemed more prominent than he could remember. Moving his head, he squinted to make out the features of the person's face. Two people were sitting by his bedside, both striking him as unusually worried-looking.

"Francis...?"

The blonde Frenchman lit up, nodding vigorously and – to Antonio's great concern – bursting into tears. Surprised, he looked at the other person as if to ask if he had done something wrong, only to find that Gilbert too looked like he was close to following his friend's example. Although the German apparently thought himself too manly to let the tears escape his eyes.

"Did I... do something wrong?" he questioned quietly, bewildered by their reactions. As the words left his lips, though, memories began seeping back to him.

Closing his eyes, he remembered Sadiq's crazed expression as he dove for the gun and pointed it directly at him. It hadn't really registered at first that he was just seconds away from being hit, even though he could see him pull the trigger. There hadn't been any pain when the bullet was fired – he couldn't even remember hearing the gun go off. All he had seen was the Turk's shock as he stumbled back, lifting the gun to his own head...

But then suddenly he was on the floor, unable to move, unable to think, hardly even able to breathe for some reason. Until he came into his view, crying, screaming and looking just about ready to fall apart completely. Antonio remembered saying something, and it was as if the world sort of stopped moving around them. Suddenly Lovino was lying beside him, and all that mattered was the connection between them – their pulse beating together like one. All fear and confusion disappeared, and eventually things had gone black.

Opening his eyes abruptly, he finally realized what was missing. There was no warm hand holding his, no golden eyes to meet his own green. Struggling for a moment to gather his voice, he looked at his friends intently.

"Where is Lovino?"

Francis and Gilbert exchanged a glance, and the pause made something twist painfully in Antonio's chest. Had something happened to Lovino? Was he hurt? Or... worse? About to ask them what was going on, he was interrupted by the door opening and a figure entering the room.

He was much too pale, dressed in at least three layers of thick, warm sweaters, and had dark circles underneath his eyes, as if he hadn't been sleeping for half a year, but there he was. Neither hurt nor dead, just very much alive and real.

"They didn't have rose tea, so I brought-" Their eyes met, and Lovino stopped in his tracks, simply staring for a moment. The cups he was holding slipped from his hands, promptly crashing to the floor and staining the white with an expanding puddle that slowly seeped into the hospital slippers adorning the Italian's feet. While his body was frozen, his lips were working soundlessly as if he was trying to decide whether he should speak or breathe.

Just when Antonio was about to say something, however, the other turned on his heel and disappeared out of the door again, leaving him to wonder – yet again – if he had said or done something wrong.

"Heh, he's been waiting for you to wake up for over a week, Antonio. I'm guessing he hadn't really prepared for the actual moment of your awakening." Gilbert chuckled.

"A week?"

"Hey, that bastard shot a hole in your stomach, what the hell did you expect? You're not exactly superman, you – Ouch, Francis!"

"What mon cher Gilbert is trying to say is," these words were spoken with a pointed glare at the German, "you almost died, and gave us all a fright. Lovino was in a bad shape himself. He was so ill and exhausted, the poor guy... But he never left your side for longer than he had to. For you to suddenly wake up – Well, just imagine."

Antonio could imagine it all too well. He could also hear Lovino's muffled sniffles just outside the open doorway.

"Lovino? Are you going to stand outside there all day?" It took some effort to speak loudly, and his body and mind was growing heavier by the minute. But he couldn't go back to sleep yet. "Because I really... really need to hug you right now."

In only a matter of seconds, he found himself with a shaking and sobbing Italian in his arms, and grinned despite the tiredness that threatened to overcome his senses completely. "There you are, silly," he whispered lovingly. Holding the other as tightly as he could with a body that was probably drugged down in order to stop the pain, he could finally relax again. "Didn't think I'd leave you, did you?"

"Like I'd ever get rid of you, you bastard," came the hoarse hiccup, followed shortly by a tiny chuckle, in which a lot of bottled up tension was relieved.

"Happy to hear you've accepted your fate," Antonio laughed softly back, feeling incredibly happy and thankful that they were both still here. That they were both still alive, and on the way to recovery.

oOo

Antonio did not have a history of getting sick easily. He took care of his own health, and during the first half – maybe even three quarters – of his life he'd been too cautious of nature to take any risks that might include injury. For this reason, hospitals were not something he was familiar with, and was definitely not something he enjoyed.

So if anyone cared that he gave a triumphant "Woohoo!", blowing kisses to the ground and the blue skies when he was finally allowed to leave after two excruciating weeks of bed rest and boredom... Well, that was their problem, and he couldn't care less. Lovino smiled that crooked little smile of his, shaking his head with exasperation as they fell into step beside each other, walking down the street.

"You sound like you were just let out of hell itself," he commented dryly.

"Could as well have been. Three weeks-"

"Two. You were half-dead the first week, remember?"

"Ok, two weeks of sleeping, eating, sleeping some more, and changing bandages is boring as hell. Thank God I had you there with me, or I'd have gone insane."

Ok, so he was exaggerating just slightly. Staying in hospital hadn't been all that bad. At least whenever he wasn't utterly drugged down to stop the pain. The only relief, except of course for Lovino staying with him, had been the daily exercise to make sure his body was functioning and all that.

At least now he could walk on his own without collapsing from exhaustion or pain, although he would have to take things very easy for a long time before the wound healed properly. He'd been incredibly lucky, the doctors said, that the internal damage hadn't been worse. Apparently, the bullet had been frighteningly close to lodging itself in his heart. It wasn't a pleasant thought that he was only inches away from dying that day. Honestly, in movies, the characters always smiled after things like this, suddenly just jumping back into their life, none the worse for wear. It really wasn't that simple in reality.

"Hey..." Glancing to his side, he saw Lovino eying him worriedly. Smiling weakly, the previous joy at getting out of the hospital seemed to fade away slightly, and he clutched the Italian's hand tighter in his own.

"I'm just glad to be alive, you know?" And the expression in his boyfriend's eyes told him that he did know. That day would probably be carved into both their memories for good, like a permanent mental tattoo or something.

None of them spoke much as they caught a taxi. Falling silent was something that always seemed to happen whenever they had to pull out the still fresh memories of the nightmare, and neither of them had spoken much of that day, except briefly touching the subject. Whenever it was brought up, Lovino would keep his gaze trained on the floor, and Antonio on his side felt a chilling wave go up his spine. Still, both of them knew there would be a time when they had to talk about it. A time when they were alone. Without Francis and Gilbert staying around and chatting mindlessly to keep the mood light. Without Feliciano babbling on about nothing in particular – or falling into sudden sobbing fits, as he had taken to doing lately –, while Ludwig stayed silent at his side.

Perhaps they were just postponing the inevitable, but something always seemed to come up whenever it felt like they were both going to burst out with their fear and frustration. Whenever they felt like they could overcome the first and largest hindrance and start healing.

"Hey, take us to this place, will you?" Blinking out of his thoughts he saw Lovino hand a note to the taxi driver. Opening his mouth to ask, he stopped when his boyfriend held up a finger to silence him.

"Sure thing." And then they were driving off, not towards the apartment but in a completely different direction. Instead of asking questions, Antonio decided to enjoy the ride, watching the view as they drove down the streets.

Large parts of the city was still a bit unfamiliar to him, as he hadn't lived there for long, yet it wasn't much different from other cities he'd been to. There would be exactly the same views, exactly the same concrete ground, exactly the same street lamps and shops. There would be pigeons walking around park benches in hope of finding something edible, and there would be sounds, smells and lights.

The only thing that couldn't be predicted was the people. No matter where you went, there would be different identities and individuals living their own lives. A family, having a picnic in a park they passed. A teenage couple, sharing a coffee and chatting on a street bench. A large brute of a man, walking down the sidewalk with a puppy the size of a small football bouncing energetically in his leash beside him. Antonio liked how you could find similar types of people wherever you went, but no one would be exactly the same as another. People were a lot like snow crystals in that sense, he thought. On first glance, they looked familiar, but as you studied them more closely you could see that each one was entirely unique.

Having been caught up in his musings, Antonio suddenly realized that the taxi had come to a stop, and Lovino was holding the door open, reaching out a hand to help him out without aggravating his wound. Getting out, with some difficulties, he suddenly found a hand over his eyes.

"Close your eyes," came the quiet request, and he couldn't help but be reminded of the time he'd blindfolded Lovino just to surprise him on the beach.

"Yes, sir," he smiled, giving a mock salute and obediently doing as he was told. Willingly, he allowed his boyfriend to lead him away from the car. He felt thankful for the slow pace they were moving at, and the way Lovino would practically warn him for even the tiniest rock or dent in the ground. The Italian was so gentle, as if the weeks at the hospital had tamed him somehow.

The scents were different here, he noticed, and the sounds of traffic were distant and muffled. Somehow, the air felt cleaner, and he was reminded of the small forest by Bella and Willem's home, where the three of them used to spend time together. He could feel the sun warming his skin gently, and while the air was definitely crisp, a reminder of the change of seasons, it was a pleasant day.

"You can open them now."

He wasn't exactly sure what he had been expecting to see when he opened his eyes, but this was not it. Wonder grabbed hold of his heart as he looked around. They were on a hillside, with a clear view across the city in its entirety. It was unlike the fine-trimmed and cared-for parks you'd find in the city; more wild in a way. Instead of a neat grass lawn, there was a meadow with various late-blooming flowers. A dirt path stretched out before them, and a bench stood a bit away.

Lovino still hadn't let go of his hand, and instead of leading him down the path, the Italian headed for a tree that stood a few feet away from the path, in the middle of the meadow. Its golden and red leaves, coloured by the season, cast a light shadow as the branches stretched out on every side of the thick, crooked trunk.

"This place..." Lovino paused, eyes fixed on a spot on the old bark, before continuing in a tone that spoke of nervousness and emotion. "It's one of the few good memories I have of our grandfather."

Antonio had to search a bit, but eventually he found the spot on the bark that Lovino was looking at. Someone had carved words in with a sharp object. At first he was wondering what he was looking at, but before long his eyes widened in revelation.

"Grandfather was very much like Feliciano, except perhaps crazier. He did exactly like he wanted, whined over little things, spent more time painting or listening to music than actually doing anything useful. Feliciano liked him a lot, and he... he liked Feliciano a lot too." The Italian sighed, leaning back against the trunk and letting his gaze move out across the city. "The two were pretty much inseparable. I always felt that he never had as much time and care to offer me."

"Your grandfather... wrote this?" Tracing the words in the tree bark with his hand, Antonio noticed Lovino smile from the corner of his eye.

"Yeah. We'd had a huge fight, and I was so scared. I had said that if everything Feliciano did was so perfect, why didn't he just send me away, so that they could spend more time together. I thought he'd actually do it, so when he picked me up from my room later and drove out here, I actually believed he'd just drop me off somewhere and go home without me." He chuckled softly at the memory, shaking his head. "I guess I was a paranoid brat already back then. But instead he... he took me here, and told me to wait over at that bench over there. I sat there for a long time, wondering just what the hell he was doing..."

Turning around, he eyed the inscriptions in the wood with a warm expression. Antonio felt awed at what his grandfather had done. Instead of saying what he thought, he took the time to carve them into the wood for everyone to see, putting the utmost care and detail into every letter. He had even written it in English, just so that anyone could read it. Clearing his throat a bit, Antonio traced the words as he spoke them.

"'Lovino is a lovely child, and a wonderful brother. Lovino might be clumsy, but works hard and does everything with care. Lovino might seem a bit grumpy, but he is kind, caring and considerate. Lovino has a great singing voice, and bakes an amazing apple pie! Lovino is my grandson, and no one will ever be able to replace him in my heart...' Aw!"

Lovino gave him a half-hearted slap on the shoulder for the sentimental sigh that escaped his lips when he finished reading. "It's not like things got much better between us, we still argued a lot, but... well, I wasn't as scared anymore, you know?" Things fell silent between them for a moment, before Antonio glanced back at the words written in the wood, giving a smile.

"Apple pie?" he questioned with wonder, and Lovino gave an indignant huff, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"What, you don't believe it? Tch, guess I have no choice, then. I'll just have to prove it to you."

"Warm pie with ice cream on the side?"

"Sure."

"And a certain delicious Italian as a desert?"

"On the other hand, I think I'll just feed your piece of pie to the pigeons..."

oOo

Aw, aren't you just overjoyed that he survived? I know I am, haha. ^^ And this is not the final chapter, mind you, even though it didn't end in a cliff hanger. There are still two chapters to go. And hey! Depending on the response I get, I MIGHT just post another chapter this weekend, but that's totally up to you guys~ :3