Antonio clutched his head, not able to believe what he was hearing. "Dios. O Dios, O Dios, O Dios."

Francis crossed over to his distraught friend and put his arm around his shoulders. "Shh, mon ami, it's ok. You're alright."

"I can't believe it," Antonio sobbed. "It was all a dream, you guys were right all along. I've been imagining it all along." He'd curled up into a ball by now, arms over his head and legs tucked up to his chest, tears streaking shining rivers down his ghost-white face.

Francis patted his head as Gilbert and Feliciano approached to help comfort him. "You're going to be fine, Antoine, you'll see. We're all here for you."

"You were right, and I didn't listen, I didn't see the signs. I really am mad. Delusional. I'm seeing the image of my friend's dead brother. Mierda, I was in love with the version I imagined of him, too. O Dios, I need help!" His voice hitched as he struggled to take in huge gulps of air and he burst into a fresh wave of sobs.

"Shh, shh. That's what we're here for. You'll get the help, you'll see, and you'll be absolutely fine. We're here for you, Antoine. Every step of the way." Francis was trying his very best, but it was obvious he'd never had to comfort someone in such a situation before, and that he felt out of his depth.

It took several tense minutes before Antonio was back to a slightly calmer mindframe, but he still felt numb, like his mind was disconnected from the world. The news had hit him like a hammer to the chest, and he was finding it beyond hard to believe. Part of him wished that this too was all a dream, but that would mean that Lovino's world was real...and he knew that that couldn't be true now. Like it or not, he had to accept this for what it was.

XxxxX

The five sat watching a movie for a while, but no one was paying all that much attention to the TV, it was more of a distraction than anything, and occasionally a conversation-starter. Antonio was busy trying to catch up with the thoughts chasing circles around his head; not an easy task, and was sat in an armchair by himself, mostly zoned out of everything else that was going on. The others were keeping up a stream of lively chatter to keep the mood up, but a lot of the conversation was forced and it was like a grey raincloud had positioned itself above the room with the intention of keeping it in the dark, and very little was able to be done to move it.

Eventually, the film ended and long streams of credits began to roll up the screen. Francis, who'd been in charge of the remote, cut the power to the room's only light source, the TV, and plunged the room temporarily into darkness before he hit the lights back on.

Gilbert yawned and stretched himself out luxuriously. "So, what now? Strip poker?"

"Absolutely not," interrupted Ludwig, giving his older brother a sharp glare. "Antonio, what do you want to do?"

"It's getting late," Antonio pointed out quietly, unusually unaffected by Gilbert's suggestion. "I guess you guys should probably be heading home or something. We've got school tomorrow, after all."

Gilbert gave him a serious, concerned glance. "Dude, are you sure you don't mind being here by yourself?

Antonio paused for a minute before nodding. "Yes. I think I need to gather my thoughts on this, perhaps write down what's happened so far. Every detail, however much I don't want people to know. It'll...it'll help, I think."

Gilbert grinned at him, but it was a forced grin, without a hint of mirth. "If you're sure then. 'Cos, you can call the awesome me anytime if ya like." He brought a hand up briefly next to his ear shaped like a phone.

Francis nodded in agreement. "Oui. That goes for me as well. Anytime of the night, whatever's happened, I will be there to listen should you need me. Oh, and we will drop by your house at quarter to eight tomorrow, so we can walk you to school. Ok?"

"Thanks guys," Antonio smiled gratefully. "That'll be great. I'll see you then, I guess."

"Ve~," Feliciano sprang at him in an unsteady hug. "Please be alright, Toni! Don't let the dreams hurt you!"

Ludwig nodded. "Keep yourself occupied as much as possible, you don't want your mind to dwell on this. And if you do dream tonight, remember you are unconscious and tell the dreams that they are not real. You know they are not real, you believe they are not real, and they will go away, because your mind is stronger than they are. And you can beat this, Antonio. Believe me." He gave Antonio a hard glance and a definitive nod, which was Ludwig's equivalent of an inspirational speech and a marching band, and turned to go back up Antonio's driveway.

"Au revoir, mon ami," Francis gave him a brave smile and drew a hand briefly down Antonio's arm, before following after Ludwig and Feliciano. "Keep safe."

"Yeah, tschüss!" Gilbert called, waving as his little bird cheeped and zoomed around his head.

Antonio watched them head up the street before going back inside. Once he was back within the confines of his four walls, he collapsed limp against the inside of the door and curled up, shaking like a leaf. He'd been stronger in front of his friends, but, alone, he felt lost, trapped within the bars of his mind, a prisoner of his own thoughts, completely helpless. He almost considered calling them back, but then remembered Ludwig's words. Like it or not, he had to beat this by himself, as it was himself he had to beat, and he was stronger than this.

But he didn't feel strong. Just weak, powerless, terrified of what his own mind might be plotting against him. He could drive himself to insanity and not even realise it, perhaps brought to the delusion that malevolent acts or dangerous stunts were normal, maybe even necessary. Or dwell in his own thoughts to such the point where he would take his own life to escape the lack of reality. It was utterly petrifying.

Keep yourself occupied as much as possible, you don't want your mind to dwell on this. Ludwig's words floated back to him through the darkness of his despair, and Antonio eagerly followed the light that they brought.

Keep himself occupied. Well, that was easier said than done. He knew from experience that, if he wanted to forget a thought, that thought became impossible to remove from what he was concentrating on.

Ok, well, if that didn't work, maybe there was something to watch on TV. Antonio dropped onto the sofa and recovered the remote from between two of the cushions. He skipped through a couple of channels and managed to find a documentary of some kind on the habits of turtles. Gratefully, he switched his mind off and focused only on the graceful beauty of his favourite creatures, dipping and twisting in the azure calmness of the water.

But the documentary was halfway through when he began watching and it was only half an hour later when it ended. Antonio glanced at the clock; only 10pm. He didn't want it to be still so early; he didn't want to have to go to sleep. The prospect of returning to his dream world, even though he knew it wasn't real, terrified him.

He blinked and all of a sudden realised that it took effort to reopen his eyes. O Dios, the drugs. The withdrawal, combined with his body clock's routine of falling asleep so early, was beginning to affect his mind, and his brain was automatically shutting down. Panic swept through him – he didn't want to dream now, he didn't want to face the possibility of his madness. But he couldn't resist the darkness' tender grasp, his eyes closed again, and slowly he was pulled, dreading every moment, into the clutches of unconsciousness.

XxxxX

Antonio could see the light streaming through his eyes even before he opened them and knew instantly he was where he least wanted to be, and he felt none of the happiness that had characterised previous nights for the past month. Instead there was only fear. His muscles tensed as he fought off a wave of panic, and he struggled to hold back a sob. Stay strong. Fight this. It's your thoughts, nothing more, and you can beat this.

"What the hell, bastard?" came Lovino's voice again. "Two nights in a row and you're late!" The brunet was standing a few feet away, almost looming in stance, with his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. He seems so real. It's hard to believe I could imagine something so real, so detailed, so...captivating. NO! Bad thoughts. He's not real!

Antonio pulled himself to his feet, drawing up to his full height and swallowing down his fear as best he could. "You're not real. I'm just imagining this." He spoke calmly, but firmly, and hoped he put enough true conviction into his words as to dispel the image forever.

No such luck. Lovino just looked confused for a second, then his expression turned to anger. "What the actual fuck, Antonio? Don't tell me those bastards got to you! This is real, remember? I gave you the note to give to Feliciano, for fuck's sake!" His olive-gold eyes blazed in the sunlight like fire and a fierce breeze blew his hair up in chaotic directions.

Antonio held his ground. "No. You're not real. I believe you're not real. Therefore the dreams go away. I'm not mad. I'm not mad."

"That's the mantra of a delusionalist, bastard," Lovino replied, breathing hard. "I thought I managed to convince you yesterday! This isn't the sort of place you can just fucking dream up! You were supposed to convince everyone, not join them!" He choked back a sob, tears welling in his anguished eyes. "Don't I mean anything to you?" His last question came out as little more than a whisper.

This was what Antonio had been dreading. Despite knowing it was fake, he still loved the Italian like no other, and it broke his heart to hear him say that. "Lovi...I...it's not real. This place isn't real. I love you, but you're not real! This is just a fantasy! IT'S NOT REAL!" He yelled the last sentence out with all he had, but the words rang hollow as they echoed off the hillside, and he didn't believe himself anymore.

"It is real!" Lovino shouted back at him, tears now cascading down his cheeks. "Why can't you just understand?" He looked so heartbroken that it took everything Antonio had not to run over and hug him, and tell him everything was a joke, that it was all going to be ok after all.

Antonio shook his head, not trusting himself to speak anymore. His eyes stung, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he too was in tears. He clenched his eyes shut tightly and pinned his tensed arms to his sides, futilely wishing himself far away.

"But the note, damn it!" Lovino started forward, but his legs collapsed under him and he tumbled to the ground in a heap, breath coming in choked, forced sobs.

"The note was blank, Lovi," Antonio confessed, his voice barely a whisper.

Lovino looked up, shocked, his mouth open in a desperate 'O'. "...what?" he breathed.

"The note was blank!" Antonio cried louder, his voice sending birds fluttering out of the trees nearby in fear. "The note was blank!"

"It wasn't blank, damn it!" Lovino sobbed, desperately trying to catch Antonio's eye. But the Spaniard knew he couldn't let him; one last look at that face and he wouldn't be able to leave it. It was tearing up inside to see his love in such a state and to know that he was the one to cause it. But he had no choice if he wanted to regain his mind.

And he knew the only way to resist it was to be far away, there was no other option, despite how his heart pleaded for him to stay and right things to the blissfulness they once were. He forced himself to turn away and walk down the hill, each step taking more strength than lifting a ball of lead.

Twenty paces away, he couldn't help but look back, and immediately he wished he hadn't. Lovino was a limp, pitiful wreck folded on the pale wilting grass and Antonio wanted nothing more but to run to him, cradle him in his arms like a child and comfort him so he would never be sad again. He knew that the image had already burned itself onto his memory, a guilt that would haunt him forever, real or not. With a sorrowful, breathy howl he ran from the scene, his face marred with tears and his head spinning so much it was disorientating.

Only as he left did he realise that the sky was dark with clouds, an ominous shade of black reminiscent of the purest shadows from the coldest winter nights. The horizon was ringed by a strange reddish glow, bathing the entire world in crimson fire, with long shadows stretching twice the length of their sources that hid pockets of unknown. All noise was gone, save for the whistle of the gentlest of winds ghosting through the trees.

Antonio couldn't help being terrified and increased his pace, hoping beyond hope that he could outrun this. It was worse than the gravest nightmare he'd ever had, attacking his every sense and taunting his mind.

But the darkness kept following him, or perhaps it was everywhere now. No matter how hard he ran, the atmosphere was the same, even though he was now more than a mile from where he'd woken up. He dived behind a tree, hearing nothing behind him but his own panicked breaths, and finally deemed himself free. Now it was only a matter of time to wait it out until morning. It couldn't be earlier than eleven...wait, that wasn't a comforting thought at all. Only seven and a half hours to wait? That was ages. Lovino was bound to find him in that time; this was his world after all.

No. No it wasn't. It was Antonio's world, in Antonio's head and he was the one who could control it. And he wasn't going to let Lovino find him.

"Antonio," the ghost of a voice called on the wind, gentler than an echo, quieter than a whisper. "Antonio, come back." It was a soft, pleading, heartbroken voice that stabbed at Antonio's heart with pure emotion, trying to lure him back.

Antonio realised instantly what it was and clapped his hands over his ears. "Not real, not real, not real," he chanted under his breath, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and trying to black his thoughts.

"Please don't hide from me," Lovino's voice whispered, and, impossibly, it was even louder and more compelling with Antonio's hands over his ears. The sheer emotion in the voice caused tears to cascade down Antonio's face once again, and he shook his head desperately, aching to do anything but what he was about to.

Antonio scrambled to his feet and started running again. He wasn't sure what it could possibly accomplish, but he had to try something. Anything.

"Antonio...why are you running? Do you hate me? Please don't hate me."

Antonio kept running, forcing himself to ignore Lovino's broken voice imploring him to stop. If he ignored it, perhaps, just perhaps, it would go away. Out of the sky, big fat raindrops, reminiscent of tears, began to tumble from the clouds and plopped heavily onto Antonio's scalp and clothes. He was briefly thankful he'd passed out in normal clothes – there was no way he'd be able to run like his in his pyjamas. The ground was slowly becoming rougher, small stones were poking out from between the blades of grass, which was fading to a pale shade of brown. It was becoming harder and harder not to fall.

"Antonio..." the disembodied voice of Lovino called. "You promised. You said you loved me. Why did you lie to me, Antonio? I loved you and you lied."

"Not real, not real, not real, NOT REAL!" Antonio screamed at the sky as a last resort to get Lovino to leave him alone. His mind had to believe the fear he was crying into the atmosphere.

And unbelievably, amazingly, it worked. There was suddenly a deafening silence and Antonio could feel his heart striking his ribs with the force of a cannon, waiting for the terrifying inevitable that was about to happen. It was too silent, too coincidental to be a good sign.

Then the world shook, sending Antonio tumbling to the floor as the ground knocked his feet from under him. "You don't believe I'm real? I'll show you who's real," the voice snarled, now echoing from the very fibres of the earth. If it had eyes, they would be flashing a glare like an uncontrollable inferno. Antonio could see Lovino in his mind, standing atop the hill with a powerful glare on his face as he watched Antonio from on high.

No! He had to fight this. There had to be some way that he could control this world, if it was in his mind. But wishing it to stop wouldn't work – he'd been trying that for this entire time and couldn't remember wanting anything more in his life. Except...wanting to stay with Lovino. Oh crap.

But he couldn't dwell on this forever – it was getting far too dangerous to stay where he was. The stones sat on the ground were growing into impossibly sharp rocks, rising out of the ground behind him and giving chase as he ran. No matter how fast he was, they kept up, always nipping at his heels and being a millimetre shy of tripping him to his doom.

He scrambled onwards, hoping that if he escaped the rocks long enough they'd stop, or at least his mind would consciously realise what was going on and allow him to stop this.

But the rocks didn't stop, and, from the way the ground was banking, he was being forced to run in circles. The town was now off to his right, as opposed to far behind him, and it looked like the geography of the world was being warped to chase him into what were now its worst possible parts.

Time for drastic action. Just as the jagged spines came into view from the front as well, he threw himself to the side, tumbling down the hill and crashing into the gravelled path at its base. Antonio drew himself up, gasping for breath and, trying to repress the pain burning his muscles, began running again. Even though the world was warping at his feet, controlling where he went, there had to be some way to escape it. He just had to figure out the secrets and weaknesses of his own mind.

The tall shape of Lovino's house came blearily into view through the rain, but it looked now like a ruin; the windows were smashed and in more than one case boarded up, the paint was peeling and faded, and the whole thing was covered in dust and dirt that even this incessant rain wouldn't shift. Antonio decided to pass the place by, even if it was shelter. The way his luck was going, it was probably filled with ghosts and the like, or would fall down on top of him the moment he stepped over the threshold.

A sharp pain raked his face as his mouth was suddenly filled with leafy fronds. A hedge had suddenly appeared in front of his face, blocking his path. He glanced around and realised he'd just walked into the maze.

Oh shit, the maze.

He spun around faster than lightning and sprinted for the exit he'd just run through. But it wouldn't get closer; if anything, it was further away. He sped up, desperate to escape the trap he'd just walked into, but, the faster he ran, the further away the rectangle of freedom got. Then a piece of hedge like a door swung shut just in front of him and he slammed full pace into it, spitting shards of leaf from his mouth as he tumbled to the floor. They tasted uncannily like soap. He picked himself up again and looked about, no longer trying to repress the pure panic that was overloading his system.

Tunnels of green were all that was visible, twisting and turning in all directions, with innumerable junctions jinking off every few feet. From the looks of it, he wasn't anywhere near the edge anymore, but somewhere inobtainable, inescapable. He was trapped.

But he had no choice but to try, even if it was a trap. Picking a trail at random, he cautiously set off down it, fully expecting fear and death of all kinds lurking behind every corner. Yet there was nothing, which was beginning to scare Antonio worse than what had actually happened. It was the waiting that was the hardest part, the most psychologically taxing, and Antonio half wanted to yell 'just do something already!' at the sky. But he didn't, because he knew that would be exactly what would happen, and he'd instantly regret it.

So he kept going through the maze's endless corridors. Either he was going in circles again, or the maze was so much bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. It had been ages, and he didn't seem to be going anywhere, the skyline all around him seemed to be exactly the same wherever he went. Persisting on regardless, he turned another corner, and hit his first dead end.

A sudden voice made him jump, and his heart plummeted to his feet. "Why don't you believe me, Antonio?" Right at the terminal of the dead end stood Lovino, eyes red and swollen and pleading to Antonio's very soul.

Antonio yelped and instantly backtracked, sprinting away as fast as he could. He couldn't face Lovino, even if he was just a figment of his imagination. It was too painful.

As he rounded the next corner, he was suddenly caught around the waist by a pair of thin but surprisingly strong arms, pulling him close into an embrace. Lovino – for of course it was he – buried his head into Antonio's shoulder and hugged him tightly, sobbing into the crook of his neck. "Please...please," he whispered, his voice barely audible. Antonio's shirt was quickly becoming damp, and his arms were awkwardly frozen halfway between being by his sides and around Lovino.

Antonio wanted nothing more than to hug the Italian back and never let go again, and to be honest it was the only thought in his mind, but his primary survival instinct pulled him away and he disappeared back into the maze's depths with a strangled "I'm sorry,".

Impossibly, he stumbled into the maze's centre, each breath a forced rasp of pain tearing through his chest. He couldn't physically run much further. Antonio collapsed to the ground, hoping that Lovino would relent for just long enough for him to get his breath back.

But the centre of the maze was calm. So very calm, but Antonio daredn't relax. If not for the sky – which was now the same shade as dried blood and dotted with fluffy black clouds – it would have been impossible to tell that it was part of a warped world. A beautiful fountain stood in the centre of the circle of emerald grass, spitting jets of crystal clear water into the air with a hypnotically gentle trickling sound. At the front of the fountain stood a bright red chrysanthemum, its petals fringed with delicate gold and spread in full and proud bloom. Curious, yet undeniably suspicious, Antonio knelt down next to it, wondering quite why such a tranquil place had survived in such a nightmare.

There was a small painted inscription on the marble of the fountain behind the chrysanthemum. In neat, flowing, but obviously childish letters, it read; We found the middle! Feliciano and Lovino Vargas, age 5 and 6. Antonio stared at it, confused beyond belief. How could his mind come up with something so...so...innocent?

A soft breeze ruffled the air, and Antonio looked up. The chrysanthemum quivered in the wind, then – by itself – turned towards Antonio, and suddenly it had Feliciano's face. "Why won't you believe fratello?" it asked, in a perfect imitation of the younger Italian's voice.

Antonio yelped and scrambled back, almost toppling over. His suspicions had been right – it was far from safe here. He turned tail and ran back into the maze, hoping that what may lie in there wasn't worse than what he'd seen before.

Lines of green flashed past him as he whipped past corner after corner, not caring where he was going, so long as it was away, and he knew that sooner or later he had to find the exit. His only aim now was survival until his alarm clock saved him from doom by his own mind. How long that was, he didn't know.

Something grabbed at his foot and he hit the ground hard, groaning in pain. There was a fierce grip on his left ankle and he glanced back to see a thick tendril of green wound tightly just above his foot, dragging him backwards towards the undergrowth. Antonio wrenched at it, wishing he had a knife or something, anything, that he could cut this off with. Stones pulled his shirt up and raked his stomach as he was towed across the ground. Blackness, deep, hungry blackness, waited impatiently at the base of the hedge.

Antonio pulled harder, guessing that in the blackness lay true insanity, and there would be no escape were he pulled in there. And, mere inches from the edge, he loosed the tendril from his ankle and leapt back to his feet. But his relief was short-lived, for the base of the hedges either side grew more tendrils, licking at his feet and threatening to topple him back down. There was so many of them, twisting and writhing from under the hedges and lunging for his feet and hands, hungry to pull him under the hedge and into the blackness beyond.

And all of a sudden, he was out of the maze, free of the tendrils' perilous grasp and back into the open, as much of an improvement it was. His left ankle felt like fire with every step, and he wouldn't have been surprised if it was broken.

Gasping for breath, and wondering how many more times he would have to escape, he struggled onwards down the fields, hoping the world wouldn't warp him back to the centre of the maze, or somewhere worse.

Then he realised that he really shouldn't think things like that. It was beyond asking for trouble.

The world spun, momentarily fading, and when Antonio's disorientated eyes brought it back into focus, he was precariously balanced to top of a rickety bridge across the lake, a fierce wind blowing it from side to side. He quickly seized a rope, clutching it as if his life depended on it. Which it quite probably did.

But the ropes were frayed and mouldy, and Antonio knew it was only a matter of time before they broke and catapulted him down into the water below. Was there anywhere he could escape to? He looked about desperately and, to the delight of the intense fear gnawing at his stomach, neither end of the bridge led anywhere. Rather, he was suspended in mid air, a hundred metres above the cold blue depths. Obviously, Lovino was done toying with him and this would be the end.

A pair of black leather boots walked in front of his view and Antonio looked up with dread to see Lovino's gaunt face glaring down at him, olive-gold eyes filled with pain and betrayal.

"Lovino-" Antonio started, hoping there was a way out, something he could do to stop this descent into madness.

"You brought this upon yourself," Lovino said bluntly. "So this is it." His face was taut, as if repressing something behind a mask of anger and indifference.

Antonio swallowed. "Am...am I going to die?"

Lovino gave a wan smile. "I'm not real, remember. So if you die here, it's not as if it's going to do anything. I don't see why you're so damn scared." His voice was teasing, but there was no mistaking the harmony of pain hidden under its carefully phrased tune.

"Lovi, Lovi, please don't. Why do you have to kill me?" Antonio gasped, seeing no other option than pleading. The Italian – the one in his mind – had to still love him enough to spare him, didn't he? He wouldn't just snap from one extreme to the other, could he?

Lovino looked at him, bleakly, sorrowfully. "I'm not going to kill you. I'm just going to cut the ropes. You may die. Or maybe you'll survive the fall. I can't say I care either way." He slowly waved a hand and spoke coldly. "Arrivederci, bastard." There was a perilous snap, and the bridge collapsed beneath them, Lovino vanishing into thin air, but Antonio plummeting head over heels into the water hundreds of metres below.

His hair and clothes rippled and twisted as he fell, and he shut his eyes to stop the wind burning them as his drop increased in speed. High-velocity air tore the breath from out his mouth, and he hit the water without a drop of air in his lungs, shockwaves of pain vibrating up his back as he plunged into the depths with the force of a cannon.

Antonio paddled frenziedly, trying to make it to the surface, but the water had all the consistency of treacle and the heat of the depths of Antarctica. It pulled him down, slowly sucking him into the bottom of the lake and freezing his brain as his muscles gradually began to shut down. Stars swam before his eyes as his vision began to first blur and then turn black. So this is how it ends, he thought mournfully, and finally gave up his fight.

BEEP-BEEP! BEEP-BEEP!

Apologies for this chapter being later than I intended. Most of it's been written for a while, but I managed to get so stressed out I made myself ill. Which was not fun. Also, neither are these exams. But you didn't come here to listen to me rant, so...

Poor Lovi. He's a little bit mad at the moment. Perhaps overreactive, but he's definitely mad. But I was in a dark mood when I began this, and it eventually turned out being quite long. But I'll be nice this time; Antonio's not dead.
And the final, decisive state of things will be revealed next chapter.
But, some bad news. After Chapter 14, I haven't much of an idea where I'm currently leading this without going obvious. It's what comes of doing a complete rewrite. So I have some endings to think of. And, with regards to the alternate ending (starring Magic!Iggy and a whole bunch of crazy weird stuff), should it be added onto the end of this once I've finished, or would it be better in another doc altogether? Cos I dunno :P
I'll shut up now.