I'm here. Phew...

Here's chapter 3. I feel that there's too much drama in this but I can't help it. =w=;;;

I do not own Hetalia

The first thing Ludwig notices as he enters the diner that day is something in Feliciano's smile. It isn't as bright and cheerful as usual. He doesn't know why, but for a reason he can see it. But Ludwig chooses to keep his thought to himself. He doesn't want Feliciano to be uncomfortable because he sticks his head into his personal space. So with his brother (who decided to have breakfast with him today), he takes a seat.

Elizabeta comes walking to them, notepad in hand as usual, and fixes a stay-away-glare at Gilbert, who just grins in return. The diner isn't really crowded, but not really less people as well. That makes the younger German can steal worried glances at his Italian friend once in a while. Gilbert raises his eyebrow at that. "Hey, West?"

Ludwig's eyes snap back to his brother. "Yes?"

"Is something wrong?" Gilbert looks at him curiously. "You've been glancing at Feli once every several minutes, the awesome me swear."

Ludwig shakes his head. "Nothing's wrong." Gilbert's lip quirks a bit upward. "Nothing's wrong with you, but something's wrong with Feli, right?" Ludwig just blinks. Gilbert groans. "Just ask him then, West. If there's really something wrong, he'll want you to ask."

"What if he doesn't want me to ask?" Ludwig raises one eyebrow, expression sullen.

"You're his friend aren't you? He won't mind." Gilbert folds his arms on the table. "For Gott's sake, you have to stop being so stiff. Go and ask him."

"But-" Ludwig tries to put up an argument, but Gilbert raises his palm to silence him. "The awesome me is more experienced in something called friendship. And I assure you that he wants to be asked. So my awesome little brother, go and ask. It won't do any harm." He grins at him and claps his back across the table. Ludwig throws him a final uncertain look before standing up and walking to the counter, where Feliciano is playing with his pen absentmindedly. When he approaches, Ludwig can see that there's a very vague sign of scowl on his face and his lips form a slight pout. Noticing the shadow the taller man casts, Feliciano lifts his head. As soon as their gaze meet, his face breaks into a hearty smile, bright and wide as usual, and Ludwig sighs in relief inwardly.

"Ve, do you need something, Ludwig?" He asks, eyes bright and gentle at the same time. Ludwig takes a seat in front of him at the counter, trying to find the right word.

"Is something wrong?" He asks, eyeing his Italian friend with concern. Feliciano blinks, smile falters a bit, but still there.

"Yep. But it's not that big of a problem." He replies, a slight hint of disappointment in his voice. But when he continues, it is replaced by a happy one. "Thank you for worrying, Ludwig, ve." His face brightens a bit.

A small smile tugs on Ludwig's lips. "I'm glad to hear that. But, you can always tell me, you know."

"Thanks, Ludwig." Feliciano replies, sincerity in his voice, but since when is it not? He fiddles with his pen once again. "I just kind of had an argument with fratello this morning." He stops for a moment as Elizabeta comes and puts Ludwig's coffee on the counter, smiling to both of them, which is returned with a smile from the Italian and a slight nod from the German. When she leaves, Feliciano gestures Ludwig to drink his coffee, smiling. "Don't let your breakfast go cold, ve." Ludwig obediently takes a sip, letting the warm liquid tickles his throat pleasantly, before setting it down and returning his attention to the Italian. "What was it about? If you don't mind telling me of course."

Feliciano sighs and averts his eyes, seeming upset. "Fratello never tells me anything. He never tells me if something happen to him. He got a deep cut on his hand several days ago, then a light burn on his arm from boiling water that he said was accidentally spilled over him." His lips quivers slightly. "I know something must have happened. At work most likely. But he won't tell me."

Ludwig has never seen Feliciano like this. Lips pressed into a thin line and his eyebrows quirk downward in an upset and slightly angry expression. He looks exactly like his brother like that, for a moment Ludwig can't believe his eyes. "I don't like it when he's like that," Feliciano continues, his words flow out in a quicker pace. "He doesn't want to make me worry. But by hiding it, he makes me more worried instead. He doesn't understand," His eyes narrow in a disappointed expression. "That I want to do something for him too."

Ludwig listens, letting the Italian takes a breath. "It is always him that takes everything upon himself," Feliciano bites his lower lip. "While I'm never able to do anything."

Ludwig is silent for a while, waiting for him to continue. But as the Italian doesn't seem to want to speak again, he says, softly but without losing its firm tone. "Then, tell him."

"I have," Feliciano frowns lightly, face upset. "I told him that I'm worried about him. But fratello just shook me off."

"Then tell him about what you feel, that you want to do something for him too." Ludwig says. "Otherwise, he won't know. Maybe he never will."

Feliciano blinks, expression slowly comes into an understanding. His feature slowly softens, and his lips curve into a smile. "You're right." He chuckles lightly. "Ludwig is wise today, ve."

Ludwig lets out a light sigh from his nose, one eyebrow quirks upward and lips curve slightly downward in an confused expression. "I can't understand you, you know." Feliciano laughs on the sight of his expression. "What is it that you can't, ve?"

"You're an honest person," Ludwig replies. "I know that much. But why can't you with your brother?" He's fully aware that he still doesn't know anything about the Italian except about how he sees life and everything that he told him, so he won't know if his words are right. "I mean this time."

Feliciano cocks his head to the side, seeming to be thinking about his words. "Because…" His brows furrow in attempt to find the right words to voice his thought. "I don't know." He lets out a disappointed sigh of defeat and leans back on his wheelchair. "Sometimes fratello is just out of my reach. We're close, but there's always a distance that I can't seem to close." He smiles a sad smile. "It's just like he's built a barrier around him. He keeps too much to himself, I can't break that barrier." Ludwig gives him an understanding nod, looking sympathetic. "Must be depressing."

The Italian is silent for a while, before finally replying. "It is." He frowns slightly afterwards, seems to be thinking. "Actually, he started to be like that after grandpa died. We used to be much closer back then." He lets out another sigh. "I don't know why."

The conversation is interrupted as a customer enters and Feliciano greets her with his usual cheerful greeting and smile. When the customer has taken her seat, he moves his attention back at his German friend. Smiling, he says, "Ve, thank you for listening and giving me advice, Ludwig. But your coffee's gone cold. I'll ask Elizabeta to bring you a new one."

Ludwig shakes his head abruptly. "It's okay. You don't have to."

Feliciano only laughs. "Don't worry, ve. It's my treat." Ludwig shakes again. "It's not about that." But Feliciano has already stopped Elizabeta on her way to the kitchen and asks her for a new coffee. She's back in a minute with a steaming cup in her hands which she places between them on the counter. She smiles on the awkward looking German, which turns into a slight giggle upon seeing his face.

"Please just accept this, Mr. Ludwig. Feliciano only treats customer who's having problems, customers in distress, pretty girls, and…" She winks to him. "A best friend."

She turns at the smaller man, giving him a smile, saying, "Well, I'll leave the two of you, Feli. Enjoy your breakfast, Mr. Ludwig."

"Ve, thank you, Elizabeta." Feliciano beams his smile at her and she laughs lightly in return. Before she leaves however, she leans close to Ludwig and whispers in his ears, "And to someone who's more than just a friend, of course." Giving him a meaningful smile and a pat on his shoulder, she leaves to serve another customer.

-colorful wall-

When Antonio walks in the back alley that leads to Romano's workplace backdoor as usual, the Italian has just walked out of the door. But he isn't alone. Three men that Antonio guesses are his co-workers are with him, face as sullen as the former. "Romano," he calls out to get his attention.

Upon hearing that, the smaller man's head snaps to him and he approaches him. "Is everything okay?" Antonio asks, concerned. And one of the men snorts. He glares at him in return, not liking the way they look at Romano. It's clear that they don't like him, and Antonio wonders if those are the same men that had injured him. But before he's able to say anything, Romano shoves his satchel at him, muttering, "Wait outside. I'll be right back."

He opens his mouth to protest, but Romano shakes his head, clearly won't accept any. "Just, don't get involved in this. Wait outside." He pushes him lightly but forcefully on his chest and Antonio has no choice but to do as he's told. He walks out of the alley, but not too far so he can help if things get out of hand or if needed.

Romano walks back to his co-workers as soon as he's sure that Antonio is not there. Glaring to them, he says, voice low and dangerous but clear, "So, what business do you have with me?"

"Don't worry, we'll make it clear." One of them, the shortest one but doesn't look less menacing, speaks. "We don't like you."

"Neither do I." Romano replies curtly, eyes narrowed. "I've been waiting for you bastards to settle this down already instead of making those 'accidents'."

The other one, thinner than the first and wears glasses, grits his teeth. "You don't belong here, Vargas."

"Then tell me why not." Romano keeps his glare at them, although not being able to properly do it.

The glasses one continues, tone harsh. "Because you're blind, and blind people aren't supposed to work as chefs."

"Then I ask you, who are you to decide?" Romano snaps, glaring venom at him. "I got accepted here, whether you like it or not. So just fucking get with it and fucking go fuck yourself."

"But we don't like it, so we won't." The last one, the tallest, speaks up. "You're just a nuisance you know. There are many normal people out there who want this job. And they certainly can do much better than you." He shoves him to the nearest wall and Romano yelps in surprise. "So know your place and just get outta here."

Like I fucking don't know already. Romano restrains himself from biting his lower lip, a habit he does when he's upset. But I got my reasons. He balls his fist and straightens himself. And you mother-fucking bastards can't stop me. I've been through more than this. He snorts and chuckles without humor, tone venomous, saying, "You fucking bastards can't scare me off with that. So why don't you just go back to your mother and cry your fatty asses off because a blind man can cook much better than you?"

In the next second, he feels a gust of wind from his front and he shifts abruptly in the right moment as a fist slams into the wall where his head was. The first guy, the shortest one, pulls his fist back, glaring at him, eyes glint with anger. Romano can't see, but he can feel the man's glare burning hole on him.

However, before he can regain his stance, he's pulled harshly by the collar of his shirt and he feels his feet leave the ground. He tries to pry the man's hands from him, but to no avail. It must be the tallest one that's holding him. "You've got guts," His holder says, tone dangerous. "Let's see if you still do after this."

His lung is lacking oxygen, and he chokes, feeling the man's grip tighten a bit. He can hear the other one's, probably the glasses one, mocking chuckle. "If you apologize and promise you'll be out of our sight for good, maybe he'll spare you."

"No way in fucking hell," He manages to croak. He can feel his holder tenses, and readies himself for the blow. But nothing comes. Instead, he hears Antonio's voice, low and with a dangerous tone he's never heard before. "Let him go."

The man releases him and he falls to the ground, coughing and gasping for breath. Antonio moves his gaze from one man to another, cold and harsh. His hand is still gripping the previous man's arm. "If you got problem with him, settle it fair and square. Not ganging out three on one." He moves to the Italian's side, standing almost protectively a bit in front of him.

The shortest one hisses, "Stay away from our business. Who are you anyway?" He snorts mockingly. "His mother? His lover maybe?" The other two join him in a mockery laugh. Romano balls his fist and stands up, but Antonio puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. Then he speaks out, smiling a strangely light smile. "I'm his friend. And I only say this to you once." His face darkens. "Leave him alone."

With that, he pulls on Romano's arm lightly and the Italian falls in step beside him as he pushes the men aside. The tallest man stops him by gripping his shoulder. "Or what?"

Antonio easily pries his hand away, looking at him. There's no sign of his usual smile on his face. "You'll face me next. And you'll regret it, I assure you."

With that, they leave the alley into the busy street filled with people going home from work. Both of them are silent until they're halfway to Feliciano's place and Romano speaks up. "You didn't need to do that."

"Give me a good reason why not." Antonio replies, gritting his teeth. He's upset and disappointed. He thought the Italian is finally willing to open up a bit and ask for help, after that event where Feliciano was sick. But it seems that he was wrong. Romano hasn't changed at all, and it upsets him to why the younger man never relies to him, even if only a little.

"I told you, you don't need to get involved in this." Romano shoves his hands deeper into his pocket, scowling. "This is my problem, my mess. I can solve it on my own."

"I can't believe you!" Antonio cries out, exasperated. "They would have beaten you to a pulp if I didn't step in, and you still said that you can solve it on your own? Even pride has limits you know!"

"You think it's only about fucking pride?" Romano snaps back, harsher. But on the way his brows furrow downward and the desperate tone in his voice, it is clear that there's more to it. "If you think it is, then you're fucking wrong!" He quickens his pace and leaves the Spaniard behind him.

Antonio quickly follows him and soon they're side by side again. He inhales and manages to calm himself down. "Romano?" The Italian refuses to look at him, keeping his unseeing gaze ahead instead. "I'm sorry. I was a bit carried out."

Romano still stays silent. Antonio takes that as a cue to talk again. "It's not about pride, so what is it?" He holds his breath, readying himself for the expected outburst. He knows maybe for the umpteenth time he has stepped past the line, but the Italian seems so troubled and so disappointed. He holds too many things inside, Antonio can see that much. And even though he doesn't mind Romano not telling him anything, but he feels that the younger man needs to let it out sometimes, so he won't be crushed under those stacked up feelings and things that he keeps to himself. Antonio certainly doesn't want that to happen.

But the outburst never comes. Romano stays silent, and it's when they're nearing the diner that he finally speaks. "I have to solve it on my own, even if I can't." His voice is determined, but somehow it sounds so painful in Antonio's ears. "You can't understand."

The Spaniard grabs his arm gently, stopping him on his track. "You can tell me, you know. I won't tell anyone."

"You won't understand anyway, so I don't see why I need to." Romano pulls his arm half-heartedly, but Antonio's grip stays.

"Maybe I won't," He chuckles half-heartedly. "But you can still tell me. Rather than holding them all in."

The Italian doesn't answer immediately, but he doesn't take a step forward either. He just stands there, burying his chin in the collar of his coat and shoving his palms deeper into his pockets. Antonio lets out a light sigh and says, "If you don't want to go to Feli's yet, let's take a break. There's a bench there we can sit on."

Still no answer, but Antonio takes that as an agreement and he tugs Romano's arm, leading him to the said bench. He plops down and smiles warmly as Romano sits down beside him. A minute passes as they sit in silence.

"Romano?" A light grunt answers him. "Why are you so determined in solving your problems on your own?"

"And why are you so fucking determined to find out?" the Italian spits out, but it is half-hearted and lacks the venom.

"Well," Antonio's answer comes out quick and sincere. "Because I don't want to see you like this."

"See me like what?" Night breeze blows gently and leaves rustling behind them in the bushes. Romano's expression remains unchanged, somehow bitter but determined and the light frown remains. That's the first time Antonio really notices that his Italian friend is small, not really small, but smaller than him.

"See you take all the problems and burdens and the likes for yourself and try to solve them all on your own." Romano looks strong, but fragile at the same time and Antonio doesn't understand why.

"They are my problems, so it's just fucking normal for me to solve them on my own."

"It's not," Antonio counters. "It's not if you can't and you still force yourself to."

"That's why I said you won't understand," Romano scowls at him.

"Then tell me." Antonio replies, firm but warm. Romano tchs. "Persistent bastard."

Antonio chuckles lightly at the insult, but he stays silent, encouraging his friend to continue. The Italian finally sighs and gives in. "I have to be able to do things by myself," he starts. "Not only because they're my problems, and I want to prove that I'm not some weakling just because I can't see, but also because…" He bites his lower lips at that, hesitating. Antonio's warm breath next to him tells him that the other man is still listening. "Because I can't depend on people forever. If I do, I won't be able to do anything when I'm finally just on my own." He shrugs. "Just that. Satisfied?"

Antonio is not satisfied at all. He doesn't understand. "Romano, you have so many people by your side. Me, people at the diner, the one called Matthew, and Feliciano. You will never be alone, by your own."

"How can you tell?" Romano replies, his tone bitter. "You're not God. And nothing is eternal."

"Maybe it is," Antonio admits reluctantly. "But-"

"It is." Romano says, closing the conversation. He stands up and dusts his pants, waiting until Antonio stands up as well beside him. "So don't try to convince me otherwise. Let's go." He starts the walk towards their destination.

Antonio falls into steps beside him, disappointed by the result of the conversation, but doesn't say anything. However, as they get closer to the diner, he can hear Romano says something under his breath, low and almost undetectable, but his trained ears can pick it up.

"And I have to be ready when that day comes."

-colorful wall-

Feliciano looks up from the sketch he's making right when his brother enters the diner with Antonio. "Fratello! Hi, Antonio, ve!"

His smile falters when he sees the sullen look at his brother's face and the half-hearted wave Antonio gives him. "What happened?" Ludwig perks up from his book at the sound of his friend's tone, eyeing the people silently. Feliciano wheels out from behind the counter to approach his brother. There's no customer besides Ludwig and Gilbert (who's flirting with Elizabeta in the back room) so they will have plenty of privacy.

"Nothing." Romano replies curtly. "Are you finished?"

Feliciano frowns in worry. "Something must have happened. It's okay to tell me, fratello. You're not good at lying."

"Nothing happened!" The older Italian snaps. "Why are you so fucking stubborn at this?"

"Because I'm worried about you," Feliciano gives him a hurt look. "Please tell me, fratello. What happened?"

"I told you," Romano growls. "Nothing happened. So don't worry."

Feliciano's bottom lip quivers slightly. "You're always like this," he says, calm but his voice trembles a little. "Why won't you tell me anything?"

"Because there's fucking nothing to tell," Romano stands his ground. "Can we just stop talking about this?" If only he can see the change of his brother's expression. Antonio notices, and is torn between telling Romano so he'll stop or letting them. They look like they need privacy as well. He thinks if he should step aside, but something tells him to just stay there in case something happened. He notices the German sitting on his usual spot has lowered the book he's been reading as well. For some reason, the tension between the brothers is more dangerous today.

"There are so many things to tell," Feliciano replies. "You just don't want to. I don't understand, fratello."

Romano scowls, averting his eyes away. "There's nothing to tell. If you don't believe me, then don't try to understand." Antonio notices his fists clenching inside his coat pocket. Surprisingly, Feliciano's fists do as well. But both still contain their emotions, as though they're trying not to spit out at each other.

"How can you say that?" Feliciano's lips tremble. His eyes are fixed at his brother and hurt flashes through his expression. "I believe you. You're the one that don't." Romano's expression hardens at that and his lips form a thin line. But Feliciano speaks again before he says anything. "If you do believe me, you'll tell me. This time, or back then."

Both brothers glare at each other. Like that, they look really alike it is hard to tell them apart.

Romano snarls. "Says the one who don't believe me. If you do, you won't keep pressing me with all this."

"You never tell me anything!" Feliciano cries out, fists clenched on his sides and his expression is one of hurt and anger. "You never do but I always try to believe you, even though I can't, because something certainly happened! I try to, and you don't even consider it! You don't even care!"

"I don't care?" Romano slams his hand on the counter, sending light tremors through it. "If I don't, why-" His breath hitches in his throat. He finds no words to answer. Because he's fully aware all along. That he never really takes care of his brother. Sure, he helps Feliciano with his wheelchair on the early years after they were like that, but nothing more. It is Feliciano who helps him the most. Guiding him through streets, getting things he can't see for him, helping him through his stubborn effort to not using a cane. He, even though he's the older brother, has never done anything noticeable for his younger brother. It is painful, it always is. But because it is, he just refuses to accept defeat. He cares for Feliciano, more than anyone else, more than her, or so he thought. "If I don't care, why do I still put up with you?"

"What do you mean?" Feliciano's stares wide-eyed at his brother, expression unbelieving.

"If I don't care, why do I still put up with you? With your silly smiles and acts and your above-normal-rate innocence, your naivety, and your sickening optimism that everything in this world is going to be okay?" Romano shouts, and one glance is all Antonio needs to see that he's hyperventilating.

Ludwig stands up from his seat, eyes cautious as the younger Italian's body tremble with anger, or maybe pain. However, before he can do something to stop the heated fight and fix the damage, Feliciano has already shouted, voice angry and hurt and broken.

"Do you think I'm not tired being with you all these years, with your stubbornness and silly pride and your lies? Your lies about nothing happened, everything's okay. You maybe want to say that you lie to protect me or what, but in fact, you don't! You just imprison me in the world of blissful unawareness. I'm tired of it! I've had enough!"

At that, Romano goes perfectly still. His fists are still clenched, but now it's for his attempt to stop his body from shaking. Antonio can't describe his expression. It is the mixture of pain, sadness, and realization. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, Romano has already spoke, strangely calm.

"I see…"

Only those two words, but it sends a shot of pain on Antonio's heart and he knows that it is nothing compared to the one the older Italian feels.

"I'm sorry."

The air is suffocating and silence falls, following his answer. Soon, tears formed, but not at the older Italian. Feliciano leans forward on his wheelchair and circles his arms around his brother's figure, making him bent down slightly as the younger Italian hugs him around his neck, tears streaming down his face and soaking his brother's coat.

"I'm sorry," He says, "I'm sorry. Oh God, I'm sorry, fratello. I-I didn't mean that. I truly didn't. I'm sorry."

And as he sputters apologies between tears and hiccups, Romano buries his face into his hair and starts to sob. Broken and painful, and he stutters as he speaks.

"Y-you're right," he says, almost incoherent between the heavy sobs. "D-don't apologize. Y-you're r-right. Sorry, I-I'm s-sorry."

Feliciano shakes his head so hard from the crook of his brother's neck. "N-no," he hiccups. "I'm w-wrong. I-I d-didn't m-m-mean t-that. I-I'm so sorry, so sorry, fratello. S-sorry, sorry…" It is too late, he can't take back his words, no matter how he truly didn't mean it. His brother, his sensitive and delicate and caring brother, how could he say that? How could he let his brother's words throw him off the rocks? He knows he never really mean what he says, but despite that, he…

Romano shakes his head weakly. "S-sorry, I shouldn't say that too. I… I didn't mean that. I have never thought like that. Sorry…" He bites his lip as another wave of tears make its way down his face. "I'm so sorry, Feliciano. I-I'm really a pathetic excuse of a brother." He has hurt his brother. His little baby brother, his innocent, smiling, and cheerful brother. It's true that he sometimes gets pissed off by his brother's cheerful attitude and optimism, but he never hates it. He wants him to stay like that. He didn't know that his attempt had made his brother feel like that.

"I know," Feliciano's grips around him tighten. "I know you didn't. I know, but I… Oh fratello, mi dispiace. I-I-I've never even dreamed of thinking like that." He sobs. "A-and you're n-not a p-pathetic excuse of a brother. M-maybe you won't believe me b-but…"

"Sorry," Dammit, why can't he stop crying? He has been aware of the fact all along, so why was he still so pained by that? "Sorry, really sorry, fratello. Sorry, I'm not good enough. I'm never good enough. Sorry, sorry, sorry. I-I should've stopped you when you said you would go with me. You should've stayed with the foster family. A-and they really loved you too. I'm really sorry... Your life's a mess because of me."

"What are you talking about?" Feliciano shrieks. "D-don't ever s-say things like that. If you're not g-good enough, t-then no one c-can be. A-and I've told you that I w-want to be with you, fratello. Don't e-ever think like t-that again." He hiccups, his grips around his brother stay. "They loved me, b-but you love me too, fratello. A-and my life is not a m-mess…"

"Holy Mother, what happened?" Boss is standing before the back door, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Ludwig walks over to him and says in low voice. "It's, uh, a private matter for them, sir. So…"

Boss glances between Ludwig, the twins, and Antonio (who has stepped aside), and nods slowly. He seems to still not understand the whole situation, but he understands about private matters, so he turns around and goes to the back, leaving both Ludwig and Antonio stand there awkwardly.

"Sorry," Romano whispers, "Mi dispiace, Feliciano." His brother is better off without him, a stubborn, nonsense, and blind brother.

"N-no, listen to me." Feliciano slowly pulls back, his hands shift to his brother's shoulders, and he looks at him, at the tear-stained face and glassy eyes that is the mirror of his. "My life is not a mess. I'm happy, fratello. I'm happy that we got to stay together." He wipes tears from his brother's face gently with his shaking hand. "And I'm happy that you're my brother. D-don't ever think like that again." He wipes his own tears with the back of his hand. "Don't ever d-dare." Sniffing. "The one who should say sorry is me. I really d-didn't mean that, fratello."

Romano nods lightly, but Feliciano knows that he is still not convinced. Maybe he will never be, and he fears that.

The older Italian pulls him gently back into a hug, and they stay like that for while, both taking the warmth and comfort of each other. Before finally pulling away, Romano whispers into Feliciano's ear.

"Don't be too attached to me, fratello. Or it'll be more painful when the day comes."

He stands up and walks behind his brother's wheelchair, starting to wheel him slowly to the back, not giving time for Feliciano to register his words.

-colorful wall-

Dark.

It was dark and he was in pain and he couldn't move. He was too scared to move. Everything hurt. "Feli?" A hoarse whisper came out of his lips, shaking and filled with fear. "Feliciano?"

But then he was no longer laying on the cold hard floor. He was standing, and with his hand he recognized that he was standing by a door. The curve of the room was familiar and he knew that he was in their apartment. He tried to call out. "Feli?"

But only the silence answered him.

Romano snaps his eyes open and inhales sharply. He doesn't dare to move an inch, only listening to his pounding heartbeat with his eyes wide open, but unseeing. He can hear his brother's light snore beside him on the bed, and he forces himself to calm down.

It's just a dream, he thinks. Just a dream triggered by that fight earlier. At the memory of earlier incident, he grips on his blanket and slowly pulls it tighter around him. Stupid fucking dream, he thinks as his breath starts to even. His body jerks slightly as an arm finds its way to him, circling around his waist, and he feels his brother snuggles his face into his back, snoring lightly. He sighs and gently pries away the arm from him.

Stupid fucking dream that might come true one day.

-colorful wall-

"Ve, good morning, Ludwig!"

Ludwig blinks at the cheerful smile that is beamed at him from his Italian friend. Feliciano is sitting behind the counter like usual, smiling his bright smile like usual. "Gilbert doesn't come with you today?"

"No," The German shakes his head. "He's helping a couple painting their new house today. They pay him, so he does it."

"That's good to hear, ve!" Feliciano wheels out from the counter. "Elizabeta is going to be late today, so I'll be the one to serve you."

"I see," Ludwig sits on his usual spot and waits as the smiling Italian makes his way to him with a small notepad in hand. "I'll have the usual."

"Right away, sir!" Feliciano gives him a salute and turns around, but Ludwig catches his shoulder, stopping him on his track.

"Is everything okay?" He asks, his voice is calm and collected but it vaguely has concern in it. "After what happened yesterday. Are you okay?"

Feliciano whirls around to face him and gives him a soft smile. "Ve, thank you for worrying about me and fratello, Ludwig. I'm fine. I don't know about him, but I hope he is too." He averts his eyes to the scenery outside the window for a while, an uncertain look on his face. "We talked yesterday, after we got home. He told me about what happened at his workplace. I was really worried, but I'm glad that Antonio was with him. If not, I don't know what would happen." He returns his gaze at his German friend in front of him and smiles. "Fratello said that he'll tell me the things I need to know from now on. It's not easy for him, but he'll try. In return, he doesn't want me to be overly worried."

"That's good to hear," Ludwig replies. "But you look like you're still not satisfied by that."

Feliciano chuckles. "Ludwig is so observant, ve. You're right, I'm not." Ludwig raises his eyebrow. "Why aren't you?"

"There's still something fratello didn't tell me," He replies, tone slightly sullen. "He told me yesterday, about don't be too attached. I don't understand, and when I asked about it fratello kept changing the subject. It looked like he really really didn't want to talk about that so I didn't press further." He bites his lower lip. "I haven't achieved anything, Ludwig. Fratello still won't tell me what's bothering him."

"Maybe that's true," Ludwig agrees. "But that doesn't mean you haven't. Your brother finally willing to talk to you about some of his problems. That is a really big step forward. You can't rush things. Human's heart is… a very sensitive thing."

Feliciano blinks slowly, before his face finally brightens into a smile and he throws his arms around the bigger man, locking him in a tight hug. "Ve, thank you! I got a praise from Ludwig!" He nuzzles his head into the other's back, unaware of his flushing friend who has just turned a deep shade of red. "Ludwig is so wise, ve! Thank you!"

Finally hearing the German's stuttered words, he pulls away, still smiling. "Ve, sorry. I'll go bring your breakfast now." He whirls around and disappears to the back, humming cheerfully on his way.

-colorful wall-

"Hey, Roma?"

"I told you to stop calling me that."

"Are you okay?" The morning is warm and sunny and he goes to his usual routine picking Romano up and walking him to his workplace, everything just like nothing happened the night before. But Antonio feels the need to ask. "I mean, after last night."

"I get it, bastard." Romano huffs, keeping his gaze ahead and cursing under his breath as a kid brushes past his leg, making him lose his balance for a moment. "I'm fine."

Antonio's eyebrows knit in concern. "You always say you do."

"I'm fine," Romano repeats, growling. "You sound like Feliciano." The warm sunlight lights the street and falls upon his figure, reflecting on his unseeing hazel eyes and making them glint golden. Antonio finds himself holding his breath at the short moment, before they turn around on a curve where the sunlight is blocked by tall buildings and the golden glint is gone. He wonders, if the boy is able to see, will there be times when his eyes look like that? Curiosity bubbles up inside him. He wants to find out, he wants Romano to be able to see again, he wants to see many expressions that might fill his eyes.

"What are you staring at, bastard?"

Antonio blinks, then rubbing the back of his head and laughs sheepishly. "Sorry, it's nothing." Romano frowns at the answer but doesn't press further.

"So, are you really fine?"

"For the fucking umpteenth time, I'm fine."

"It's okay if you're not. Though I'm happy if you are."

"Why are you so fucking persistent in finding out whether I'm fine or not anyway?"

Antonio frowns. "Because I care about you." He had seen last night. He had seen Romano's expression after Feliciano's outburst. He could never forget it. And the answer that followed, short but strangely painful even for him. He had almost pull the boy into a hug, but refrained as Feliciano did it first.

No matter how tough the shell he puts up, Romano is a fragile person. Fragile and strong at the same time, Antonio doesn't know which one is the dominant one. And he finds himself respecting the younger man for that. Maybe not only respect.

"Thank you very much for caring," Romano replies sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "I'd rather if you don't."

Antonio laughs. "I mean it. And why not?"

Romano doesn't answer that, only glares at him and keeps walking. Antonio decides to start out a light conversation to lighten up the mood. "How did you get accepted at the restaurant?"

The Italian raises his eyebrow at that. "Why so sudden?"

"I'm just curious. I've wanted to ask you all along, but I always forgot."

"Figures." Romano rolls his eyes. "Because they needed someone who can cook Italian food and I fit that requirement."

Antonio's eyes widen. "That's so cool!" He says, enthusiastically. "But still, how?"

"The headchef was skeptical at first." Romano replies, stopping at the crowds waiting for the traffic lamp to turn red. "With the whole deal of me being fucking blind and all that."

Antonio nods sympathetically. The traffic lamp turns red and they cross. Romano continues as they walk. "So he gave me 3 days trial. Some kind of a test. I had to memorize the structure of the kitchen and where they put utensils in those 3 days if I wanted to succeed. Feliciano helped me and we pulled an all nighter." A small smile tugs his lips. "I remembered he said his boss told him he looked just like a panda with all those dark circles under his eyes. I laughed at him and he told me that I was no different. We were like two pandas walking at the street."

Antonio laughs heartily at that. "Well, I can imagine. But I bet both of you looked really cute like that!"

"What do you think we are? Girls?" Romano snarls, but Antonio can tell that he's not angry, so he grins. "Awww, but you are cute, Roma."

"I told you to stop calling me that!" The Italian has turned a light shade of red at the statement. "Bastard." Antonio only laughs at the insult.

As they walk in the alley leading to the restaurant's backdoor, Antonio squeezes Romano's shoulder and says softly. "Be safe, okay? If those people try to pull out something funny again, tell me. I'll make sure they regret it."

Romano scowls and pushes him away half-heartedly. "I'm not a fucking girl. I can take care of myself."

"I believe you can," Antonio answers, sincerely. And Romano stops on his tracks for a moment, blinking, before turning back to his usual scowl. "But Romano, please listen to me, just this once." The smaller man looks up at the source of the voice at the serious tone.

"Asking for help doesn't mean that you are weak, or you can't take care of yourself. Asking for help when you truly need it means you're being mature." Now he has to pick his words carefully. "It means that you know yourself, you know your weakness, and you admit it. It is nothing to be ashamed of."

Romano is quiet, but Antonio knows he's listening, so he continues. "It is something that is very human. It proves that you're strong. And I know you are." He really means it. "So, don't try to take everything by yourself, okay? You know I'm always here. Feliciano is too."

He gives him a warm smile, and as though feeling it, Romano blushes another shade of red. He quickly turns around, scowling. "Bastard, don't try to act all wise and cool. I'm going now." And he quickly walks toward the staff door. However, before opening the door, he turns around for a moment and mutters, face red. "Thanks, for last night. And for today."

And he slams the door closed behind him, cursing under his breath, face still red. Antonio laughs softly at the words and shouts for the Italian through the door, "You're always welcome!"

It is not only respect. It is also the wish to be able to protect his Italian friend that he feels.