A/N: Happy Halloween, everyone!

Enjoy!

Chapter 3

Dad started drinking the next day.

The morning after the…incident, I didn't even get the smallest glimpse of my dad. I prepared my books and papers for school and was just about to walk out the door when I saw my mom by the kitchen table. She was just staring into her hands, not saying anything. My lunch was prepared and was resting by the door. I picked it up and looked towards my mom, waiting for her to say something.

I got a bit jumpy on my feet. I had woken up late because of staying up last night, but I could still catch the bus if I left now…but I at least expected a goodbye from her.

"Um…I'm off to school now," I said, hoping to coax out some form of attention, a smile or a kiss or a "have a nice day, sweetie!" But I got nothing. She just continued to sit there as if I was invisible. This really started to freak me out, so I slowly opened the door and walked outside.

When I came home that day, both my parents were at the table. My dad's eyes were red-rimmed and he looked really sick…and there was a bottle of beer right by his hand.

I really wanted to say something, but I just didn't know what. This person in front of me was a stranger, and I was scared. Instead of confronting my dad, I practically ran out of the room.

Later on, my mom walked into my room and sat down by me on the bed. She began to explain why dad was feeling upset in a soft voice. She left out a lot of details and was very vague about what had happened recently, making sure to leave out that he had failed to rescue that little girl in the building. I just nodded at her explanation and pretended that I understood the situation perfectly. But on the inside? I was still so confused and lost.

Days passed by in a similar fashion. I hardly saw my dad because, even though his co-workers at the station knew what he was going through, he still had to work his shifts. When I did see him, he was basically unresponsive. My mom was quiet, I was quiet, even little Feliciano had been quieter, and he was only a baby. I really started to hate how my family had changed in such little time…I felt like someone had to do something, to break the silence that was beginning to suffocate all of us.

But I was too afraid to do anything. I was so young, so the only thing I had in mind was to draw my dad a picture of our family. Such a dumb idea! I was good with crayons and everything, but what if that didn't work? It was such a sappy thing to do, and what would happen after I gave him the picture anyway? What if I ended up making things worse?

The rest of the week was hazy. I wasn't talking much, and it was killing me inside not to be able to. It was as if I wasn't even there. My mom was trying really hard to be doting and kind, pretending everything was normal, but it just wasn't the same…

I worked especially hard on my drawing during school. I felt stupid for actually going through with my plan… My teacher was really impressed at how much I concentrated on it, but I really hated it when she asked me to explain the picture. It was a pretty embarrassing drawing, damn it!

When I walked back into the house after school that day, dad was there sitting at the table again. Instead of running in the other direction this time, however, I walked up to him with a slight scowl on my face.

"Here," I said, shoving the picture in his face. He kind of blinked in surprise, as if he hadn't realized I was even there. He looked at the picture in front of him. I kind of turned my head away. I couldn't believe I actually drew a happy picture of our family…I told myself I'd make sure it'd never happen again.

"What've you got here, kiddo?" my dad said, taking the picture into his hand and staring at it.

"C-can't you tell?" I exclaimed. "It's us! I drew it in school today and thought you might like it…" I mumbled, shuffling my feet at how completely awkward this situation felt. I knew this was a stupid idea…stupid, stupid, stupid!

Yet, as I was trying to think of a way to say, "Actually, I didn't draw it, Feliciano did! He must be a genius or something because there's no way I would draw this!" my dad did something I hadn't seen in the past few days.

My dad smiled.

He gave a really small chuckle and his eyes got glassy. "C'mere, kiddo," he said, picking me up and ruffling up my hair.

"Dad! Ow, stop that! Put me down!" I shouted while struggling in his arms. It was a mix between a grab and a hug, but at least it meant my dad was happy. Still, I didn't like being touched too much.

"Thanks, kiddo," he said before putting me down and giving me a small kiss. I looked away with a frown and crossed my arms. My dad took the picture and held it in the air before him. "This is a masterpiece! And, as such, it deserves a special place to be hung up!" I looked towards him, seeing if he was going to put the picture on the fridge like I wanted him to, but instead, he put it inside the bag he took with him to work.

"Where are you hanging it up?" I tried to ask nonchalantly.

My dad smiled at me. "I'm hanging it up at the station for everyone to see just how awesome my son's art is!"

The urge to smile was really difficult to suppress, so instead I looked away and pretended as if I didn't care. Before I ran out of the room, however, I gave my dad a quick hug on the leg. I just hope he didn't see the smile that leaked out onto my face…

Things actually started to look up for a while. With dad back to his normal self, my mom was happier and Feliciano was louder. I hated that last part, but it was a small sacrifice compared to the benefits of having a family that was together again.

There were times when it seemed like dad's smile was fake, times when it seemed like he was tired but kept up his energy regardless. I figured this was how things were going to be from now on. This was normal. Therefore, I tended to ignore it.

The holidays came and went. Months passed by in the same manner. Dad stilled worked a lot, and sometimes all I had to look forward to were those phone calls. My mom made sure dad called every single day ever since…well, you know.

Dad did drink sometimes. It wasn't the bad type of drinking that's in those alcohol-awareness commercials. He drank to make himself more jovial. I think it worked for the most part. A kid in my class said beer makes you forget stuff, so I was ok with him having the occasional drink. He wanted to forget what happened. I wanted to forget what happened. I think my entire family did.

But then…something changed.

I heard my parents' whispers at night again. They were back to worrying about income. Dad couldn't work anymore shifts without killing himself in the process. My parents were borrowing some money from my mom's parents and dad wasn't too happy about that.

"Liz, I don't see why we need to take their money."

"We don't have a choice, Gilbert!"

"Do you realize what your parents must think of me? They probably think I'm a worthless husband because you have to go crawling to them asking for money!"

"You are not worthless, and we're only borrowing the money until we can pay it back once you get that promotion you've been after!"

"And what if I don't get the promotion, Liz? Huh?"

"I don't know, Gilbert, I don't know! What do you want us to do? Go without food for a week? I'm sorry, but I am not putting up with that!"

"Then why don't you run to rich ol' Roderich? I'm sure he'd be very willing to help out!"

"What does Roderich have to do with anything? Gilbert, just let me get a job, please."

"No! I'm the man of the house, I'm the provider!"

"I can provide too! Your job just doesn't pay enough!"

The sounds of their voices usually just melded together after a while. They seemed worried and angry nowadays. However, like before, when I woke up in the morning, everything was all better. My parents wore smiles, albeit a bit strained, and they would pretend everything was ok.

A year passed by in a similar manner. Feliciano was about one and half and starting to stand up on his own. He still fell to the floor like an idiot sometimes, but hey, he was getting smarter. Somewhat. My parents, despite being stressed out lately, were really happy with my baby brother. My dad kept videotaping Feliciano doing stupid thinks, like sitting, standing, saying his first word (which was "pasta", by the way)…

It got annoying after a while. Sometimes I would place myself right next to Feliciano and copy what he did, just to see if I would get videotaped as well. It didn't really work, though. My parents weren't exactly impressed when all I did was sit there and not flop over on the couch. The thing I hated the most about Feliciano growing up, however, was having to take baths with the kid.

It's too traumatizing to think about. And it just figures that it was the bath that they decided to videotape. My parents got on my nerves when they did that. I almost wanted to ask my dad for my drawing back just so I could add mustaches to everyone's faces. Mustaches are an ultimate insult, you know.

With Feliciano growing up so quickly, my parents had to buy things. New clothes, new toys, a new bed…

And it was back to the whispers.

But sometimes, their voices would get louder than actual whispers. Sometimes I could hear their voices quite clearly.

"Gilbert, you are literally killing yourself over this! I'm not about to let you take on another shift! You'd be working for nearly 24 hours of the day if you do! And when will you rest?"

"Unless you have another bright idea, this is what's going to have to happen!"

"When is your next shift?"

"…"

"Gilbert, answer the question!"

"In about three hours!"

"Are you kidding me? It's the middle of the night!"

"It'll be dawn by the time I start working!"

"That's not the point! Did you get any sleep at all today?"

"I got a little. There are beds at the station."

"Gilbert, please, just let me help you-"

"No!"

"You are such an ass sometimes!"

"I'm not dealing with this right now…"

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Back to the station! My guys need me!"

And then the door slammed shut.

Although it seems impossible, I managed to see my dad even less. Now his two excuses were: "I'll be at work" and "I'll be with the guys". We soon found out that the latter statement meant he was going out drinking.

When I did see him at home, which was becoming quite rare, he constantly had a bottle of beer in his hand. This time, he didn't use it to make himself forget or to make himself happier. The happiness from the alcohol only lasted an hour at most. Nowadays, the beer would make him depressed. He'd sit and drink and get angry.

I avoided him when he got like that. My mom ignored him and wouldn't let him hold Feliciano. He complained about work now rather than spoke about how much he loved it. When he got bored at the table, he would get up and head over to where his friends were, at the bar or station or whatever…and when dad came home, he was loud and all smiles, but in an annoying way. He was obnoxious, as my mom liked to say. She would get angry whenever this happened.

As the days, weeks, and months passed, I found myself getting angry as well. But the thing was, I didn't know who I was angry at. I assumed it was my dad, but other than his drinking, I wasn't mad at him. He was still my dad.

I became more frustrated with school and Feliciano got more annoying than ever now that he was starting to walk. That basically meant he could walk up to me just to annoy me. I was overjoyed.

I was also losing sleep. My parents kept getting louder. Their whispers used to calm me, even if they were laced with worry. Now, their voices made me anxious, and the voices were no longer worried. They were just plain angry.

And this time? My parents didn't pretend everything was ok.

The frustrations from the previous night showed in their behavior during the day. They were constantly fighting over the stupidest things. Sometimes, I found myself fighting along with them if the situation was about me. A year or two ago, I never would have considered screaming at my parents in anger since I'd only get in trouble. But now that things were harder to deal with than ever before, and the fact that I was so frustrated with everything nearly one hundred percent of the time, I felt they deserved to be yelled at. I would get sent to my room a lot.

"Just put down the freaking beer, Gilbert!"

"Hell to that, I like beer!"

"You're teaching your sons bad habits for the future!"

"The two of them seeing me take a few swigs of beer isn't going to kill them, right Lovino?"

"Just shut up, the both of you!"

"Lovino, don't you dare speak to your mother and father that way!" my mom usually screamed before I was sent to my room to "think about what I'd done".

Listening to my parents at night became a regular occurrence. We were in more financial debt than ever.

There was one night that stood out in particular.

"How are we going to pay for these? Hm, Gilbert? How?"

"I'm doing the best I can, Elizaveta!"

"If you were doing the best you could, then you'd stop wasting all of your money on beer!"

The voices weren't just shouted whispers anymore. This time, the voices were screams. They were loud and shouted at the top of my parents' lungs.

"I need this! I can't just stop it!"

"Like hell you need it!"

"I do!"

"What for, Gilbert? Why do you 'need' to drink?"

"You know why! You know I want to forget!"

"That was one thing! Get the hell over it by now! Your family needs you!"

"What did you say, you bitch?"

I think that was the first time I heard that word.

"I said: get. the hell. over it."

"Don't you dare say that to me! You have no idea what I've been through ever since that day!"

"Maybe not, but I know what this family has been through! It's been through hell and back because of your stupid drinking and stupid excuses!"

"Then maybe if I'm such a bad husband, you should've married Roderich!"

"I didn't marry Roderich, I married you!"

"And you regret it, don't you?"

"Don't start with me, Gilbert, just don't start with me."

"I heard you've been seeing him a lot lately. Maybe that's another reason I drink, so I can be happy and ignorant rather than know you're out being a slut with some other guy!"

And then I heard the sound of metal hitting the wall.

It startled me. I was getting very scared and little Feliciano was out of his bed, crying and approaching the door where I sat. My entire body was shaking as I slowly opened the door to see just what was going on and what that sound had been.

Looking out, I saw my mom with a frying pan in her hand. There was a dent in the wall with cracked paint. She pointed the frying pan at him, waving it furiously in his direction.

"How dare you call me that! After all I've done for this family, you have the nerve to speak to me that way!"

"I can call you whatever I want!"

My mom hit the frying pan against the wall again. The sound it made hurt my ears.

"Get out! Get the fuck out of here Gilbert, I never want to see your face again! Now! "

And with that, my father left and slammed the door behind him.

Feliciano was crying really hard, stumbling on his way over to the source of commotion. I was shaking and backing away into my room. My mom was slumped at the table crying like I'd never seen before.

The next day my parents filed for a divorce.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Critiques are loved!