Antonio could never remember being so thankful for alarm clocks.

It was quite possible that the tiny piece of circuitry had saved his life, or at least his sanity, in pulling him out of the dream and back to reality. He'd woken up covered in a cold, almost feverish, sweat, with pain scoring lines all over his skin. For a few moments, even his throat had been closed and unresponsive, still clogged with illusory water, until pure panic had driven him to breathe again.

But what he knew now is that he was utterly petrified of the next night. If his mind came so close to killing him now, by tomorrow he'd either be certified insane or in a morgue. Why could his mind be trying to fight itself like this? It was the sort of thing that was impossible to discern, and perhaps would even begin to make things worse. Antonio didn't know. He only hoped that Francis or Ludwig or someone would know what to do before this evening, because with no form of reassurance it was probable that his terrified mind would create something even worse.

Antonio dragged himself out of bed, vaguely noticing behind his despair that something was painful, but he didn't really notice what until he tried standing up, and a striking pain in his left ankle seized him in a vice-grip and sent him toppling heavily into the floor. Moaning in pain, he swivelled around from his uncomfortable position on the floor to investigate why his ankle was trying to kill him. To his unthinkable shock, the ankle in question was swollen and marred with a rainbow of blue, green and purple bruising. In the exact same place that the tendril from last night had grabbed him. But that was impossible. There wasn't anything on Earth that could cause marks like this, except perhaps constrictor snakes, and there weren't any of those around. Hopefully. And he couldn't have gotten the injury from dreams, as they were, well, dreams.

But one thing was certain, however he'd gotten the injury, and that was that walking to school today was going to be complete murder. Perhaps he'd get someone to carry him. As long as it wasn't Francis.

He stumbled into the bathroom and was about to turn on the shower when he caught sight of a strange face in the mirror. Matted brown hair hung limply down around its exhausted tones, completely tangled. Long scratches, leaking dried blood, marred the blotched pallid skin that almost looked like it had returned from beyond the grave. And a pair of fearful, sunken green eyes watched him cautiously, betraying the presence of so many kinds of pain, from above dark circles of bruising, and a slightly swollen nose.

Antonio blinked, and the face simultaneously blinked back at him, and with a jolt he realised it was his own. He looked like he'd run face-first into a brick wall, then got dunked in a lake and towelled off with a hedge. And he certainly hadn't looked like this yesterday evening. Wait, my face is injured too? This can't be coincidence. But...but how can the injuries be real? It was all in my head, so where could I have got hurt from? He poked his head back out the bathroom door and scrutinised the area. Nope, nothing disturbed. Haven't been sleepwalking. Can't think of a place where I'd have otherwise got injuries like this even if I had been, either. But that means...Ah! How on Earth does this even make sense! I can't have gotten injured from dreams!

...could I?

Completely confused out of his mind, Antonio staggered back into his bedroom, ankle screaming in pain at him. The shower had helped clean the cuts on his face, but the hot water had just aggravated the contusions on his ankle and now even walking was agony.

He glanced off-handedly at the clock and was stunned to notice that it was already twenty-five past seven. Where had the time gone? Had he really been zoned out that badly wondering about his injuries? There were only twenty minutes left until his friends turned up, and he wasn't even dressed yet, a task which was bound to take a while due to the various degrees of injury marring his form.

Antonio moaned again slightly in pain as he bent down to retrieve his uniform; at a guess he'd jarred his back somehow as well. As it had been the day before, the room was an absolute tip, and even clean clothes were strewn haphazardly across the floor with no mind for order. He really needed to clean up in here, but lately, it had been the last thing on his mind, what with probably insanity, dreams that seemed intent on killing him, and now strangely coincidental injuries.

His shirt and trousers he located easily enough, but it was a much harder job finding a matching pair of clean socks, and he eventually gave up and paired a plain black one with one patterned like the Spanish flag, both of which rubbed up painfully against his bruised ankle. He spotted his tie lying half under the bed, next to a folded piece of paper, a red guitar pick and a USB cable. He slung the tie around his neck, not bothering to knot it properly, and peered curiously at the paper. It looked oddly familiar. But he had absolutely no idea what it could be, so, out of curiosity, he retrieved it from the floor and unfolded it.

It read;

Dear Feliciano,

Long time no see, huh? You probably won't believe that it's your brother writing this, but rest assured that it is. I'd tell you a secret that only we know so that you can tell it's me, but I can't think of one at the moment except, you know, the meaning of those curls that we both have? But I can't write that one at the moment because the damn tomato bastard's trying to read this and he's not getting to know what it does.

Speaking of tomato bastards, Antonio is telling the truth that he comes here to heaven in his dreams. He's not mad or delusional or whatever dumb theory the potato bastard's come up with. I don't know why he keeps coming here when he goes to sleep – it wasn't my decision – but he does. So you guys can stop thinking he's mad.

And I'm really sorry I left you by yourself, but I did what I thought was right and I don't regret it. But I do miss you, fratellino. (But only a bit, and don't tell anyone I said that.) If you give letters to the tomato bastard, I'm sure he'll bring them back to me so we can still talk and stuff. Oh, and the potato bastard better be taking good care of you now I'm gone, 'cos if he's not, I'm coming back to haunt the hell out of him.

Keep safe,

Lovino Romano Vargas.

...

Antonio was beyond stunned. The floor seemed to have disappeared from under him, and his brain had just been evaporated out of his ears by the sheer revelation of what he'd just read. All of the ability to think had completely deserted him. The struggle to believe that his dreams weren't real had been nothing compared to this.

Until now he'd never believed he could have possessed such utter stupidity. He'd picked up the wrong piece of paper.

The wrong.

Piece.

Of Paper.

Lovino's note fluttered back to the floor as Antonio let it go and pressed his hands against his face, oblivious to the pain shooting up his nose at the contact. He shook his head uselessly and tried to suppress a stricken groan. It was all real, it had been all along, yet by his own clumsy mistakes he'd screwed it all up. Why had he rushed that morning, when it had been of the utmost importance? Why hadn't he bothered to check the note was the right note, when he knew it had fallen out of his pocket onto the floor of his cluttered room? Why, for once in his life, did he not just think? Now he'd nearly gotten killed by dreams, his friends thought he was mad, and he'd told Lovino with utter conviction that he wasn't real.

Oh, God, Lovi! Guilt slammed into Antonio like a sledgehammer as this realisation struck him, driving him to his knees and bringing bitter tears to his eyes. How could he do this to his beautiful querido? Lovino had been utterly heartbroken when Antonio had told him the note had been blank. There was no way on Earth that Lovino would ever forgive him for this. He would have to keep returning to a ruin of a world that was trying to murder him, all while knowing the one person he would ever truly love was out there somewhere, wracked with pain and completely destroyed. It wasn't something he could face, and he had no possible way of trying to deal with it.

Was there even a possible way to fix everything? It certainly couldn't return to the way it had been before, he knew that much.

A piercing ringing cut his thoughts in two, accompanied by a loud call of "Yo, Tonio! You there? The awesome me and co have come to go to school!" The doorbell, and Gilbert, at a guess. It must already be quarter to. Time didn't seem to be passing in any sort of linear fashion lately, and it made Antonio's brain hurt even more to think about it.

Antonio tried to get up, he really did, but his tired body had been driven over the edge by this final revelation and his muscles refused to respond to his efforts. It...it had all been too much. Poor Lovi. Antonio just couldn't get what he had done to him out of his mind, and even the smallest thought of it devastated him and strangled his heart with strings of guilt.

There was a rhythmic thudding coming through the floor, and hushed voices, both steadily drawing closer. Like a choir of percussion, but composed by someone with limited imagination and a serious love of copy-and-paste. Monotonous and inevitable. But whoever it was, and it sounded to be at least three people, was now on the landing.

"Ve, Ludi, I'm scared. Is Big Brother Antonio ok?" Feliciano's voice, trembling with fear.

Ludwig's reply was as unconvinced as it was short. "He'll be fine."

"Toni! You up here?" Gilbert called out, just before he threw the door to Antonio's bedroom open. "Heilige Scheiße!" In an instant, Gilbert was by Antonio's side, shaking his arm in an attempt to get a response. It had only taken half a second's glance at Antonio's desolate, tear-stained face to have him, and the other three, close by.

"Antoine! Etes-vous d'accord? Parle-moi!" Francis really was agitated; he only slipped into permanent French when his brain couldn't form any other words. Easily troubled Feliciano was already in tears, tugging at Antonio's sleeve and sobbing desperately in Italian.

Stricken as he was, Antonio couldn't hurt his friends like this on top of everything else. He wasn't able to take any more guilt. With a tremendous effort, he blinked and groaned a response. "I...I'm ok." It was little more than a whisper, as well as a complete lie, but it had the effect it intended, and that was to reassure his friends.

"Danke Gott," Gilbert sighed, rocking back on his haunches and running a hand through his messy silver hair. "Toni, you scared the absolute fuck out of us. I told you you shouldn't have stayed by yourself last night! What the fuck happened to you?"

Feliciano attacked Antonio with a relieved, tearful hug. "Ve! Toni, Toni, are you ok? What happened? Did the dreams still come back?"

Ludwig laid a calming hand on the Italian's shoulder and pulled him gently out of claustrophobia-inducing distances. "Where did you get these injuries, Antonio? Some of these cuts look serious. Should I call you an ambulance?"

"You're an ambulance," muttered Gilbert in the background to nobody in particular.

Antonio shook his head, closing his eyes momentarily when the action made his vision spin. "No...I don't think it's that bad. It's just..." His already faint voice petered out again.

Francis gently pulled him to his feet and sat him down on the soft covers of the bed. "It's ok, Antoine, take your time. Tell us, what happened to you? Did you get attacked? Are you sleepwalking?"

Antonio didn't reply, but shuffled back so he was leant against the headboard of the bed to try fight off the dizziness. Feliciano jumped onto the bed next to him, sitting cross-legged with wide eyes and a worried expression. Francis and Gilbert settled a few feet away at the other end of the double bed, while Ludwig remained standing nearby, characteristically silent and serious.

Several tense, speechless minutes passed before Ludwig spoke again. "I think it would be best if the five of us were to excuse ourselves from school this morning. This matter seems to be rather too serious to be solved in the thirty-odd minutes we have left to get there." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and slid it open.

Gilbert tapped his brother on the shoulder as he passed. "West, it's best we don't tell school the truth on this. They'll wanna send Toni to a mental institution or some shit. Just...I dunno...say he's ill, and you and Feliciano need to take care of him or something," Gilbert suggested, with an unusual display of empathy.

Ludwig nodded. "Yes. What about you and Francis?"

Gilbert grinned. "We skip class all the time, school won't give a crap if we add another day to that. Worst case scenario, we'll get detention. Who cares about that now. Just call 'em."

"Very well," Ludwig sighed, wisely realising that Gilbert was, for once, right, and exited the room to make his phone call, dialling the school as he went. It was several minutes before he returned, the others having formed a silent consensus not to discuss anything before they were all there and ready. Antonio, for one, was thankful for this time; he was still coming to terms with the initial shock, and the addition of his friends was now an extra stressor. He wasn't sure if they'd believe him, for one. He'd been so certain of the delusions yesterday, and now he'd completely backtracked. And his paranoid side wasn't convinced that the note would prove anything to them; it could quite possibly be an unknown effect of his fantasies.

"It's all cleared," Ludwig announced as he re-entered, pulling Antonio's desk chair up next to the bed and sitting down. He leant forward slightly, forming a pyramid with his fingers and giving Antonio a serious, but concerned look. "Alright. If you are ready to talk, Antonio, I suggest that you start from the beginning."

Antonio nodded slowly. His head was spinning again, and he was feeling increasingly unsure. But, then again, his friends deserved to know, and they would, if nothing else, be able to help him solve this. He drew a deep, calming breath and began. "Ok. Well, I was alright for about the first hour or so after you guys left, but I passed out after a while – because of withdrawal from the pills I guess." His voice sounded uncomfortably monotonous, and he couldn't give the events the gravity that they had had by just spouting facts. "I...I woke up back in Lovino's world shortly afterwards. He was mad at me for being late again. But I took Ludwig's advice to tell the dreams they're not real. And...and...and Lovi got mad at me. He just was so broken, so sad, but when I kept telling him he wasn't real, he got angry. No matter where I ran to, the world just kept warping. It turned from a paradise into a nightmare, and everything started to try kill me. There were rocks trying to chase me, growing up from the ground, and it just drove me in circles." Antonio paused for breath, shaking as he recalled his ordeal.

"Do we really need to know every detail of this, Tonio?" Gilbert interrupted.

Francis gave him a sharp look. "Tais-toi, Gilbert. Even the smallest details can be of the utmost importance. Continue, Antoine, if you will."

Antonio swallowed back a sob. "So I kept running, to try get away. I...I just felt so trapped in my own mind, that I didn't watch where I was going, and I ended up in the maze at Lovino's house."

"Maze?" Feliciano asked, a peculiar look on his face. He looked almost as if he was holding his breath.

"Yes," Antonio nodded. "At the house, there was a maze. Lovi took me past it when he gave me a tour. He said it had been there at his grandfather's house when he was little, and he used to get lost in it all the time. I got lost in it too, but that was because it shut me in there, directed me around. And Lovino was at every dead end, pleading with me that he was real...it just tore me up inside. And...I just ran, just tried to get away. I didn't really think. But suddenly I was in the middle, and at this point I had decided I really was screwed in the head. It was so clear, so innocent. There was a fountain in the middle, with this pretty gold-and-red chrysanthemum in front of it, and there was a little note written on the fountain saying that five-and-six-year-old Feli and Lovi managed to find the middle on it. I mean, how could-"

His words were cut off by a gasp from Feliciano. The Italian was leant forward, staring at Antonio with large disbelieving eyes. "What did you just say?" he breathed, voice shaking and barely audible.

Antonio blinked, confused, and thrown somewhat off-stride. "Uhh...there was a fountain in the centre of the maze, and a chrysanthemum in front of it? And 'We found the middle! Feliciano and Lovino Vargas, age 5 and 6' painted on the fountain next to it?"

A single tear slid down Feliciano's face and he stared disbelievingly at Antonio. "How...how could you know that?"

The other four exchanged puzzled glances. But it was Ludwig who saw the penny drop first, his eyes flaring as he gave Feliciano and Antonio a serious look. "Are you saying that, back at your grandfather's old house, there actually was a fountain where you and your brother wrote that, Feliciano?"

Feliciano nodded. "Ve~. Toni...how did you know about that?"

"I didn't," Antonio replied, suddenly reminded of why. "It's real!"

Gilbert audibly groaned. "Aw, no, not again, Toni."

"No, no!" Antonio protested. "I've got proof now! There, on the floor. Lovi's note – the real one. I must have picked up the wrong one the other day 'cos I was in a rush! I found it this morning!" He struggled upright and pointed urgently to the floor, desperately pushing back the paranoid thoughts that were suspecting that it wouldn't be there.

Following Antonio's outstretched finger, Ludwig bent down and immediately spotted the paper face down on the floor. He picked it up and returned to his chair, eyes scanning the page before him critically. After a second, his eyes widened and he handed the paper to Feliciano. "I think you should read this, Feliciano, even though it is an unwise idea. First, on the off-chance it actually is from your brother, and second, this 'secret' the writer speaks of will only be verifiable by you."

Startled, Feliciano gingerly took the letter and silently began to read it. Nothing happened for a few seconds, then a burst of crimson bloomed across his cheeks and he blinked fast as if repressing tears. And a few moments later, those tears were set free, spilling out over his eyes and pouring unrestrained down his face.

"Feli..?" Antonio asked uncertainly, cautiously reaching out a hand to the younger Italian.

Feliciano choked back a sob. "Toni...Toni's right. Fratello wrote this. H-he's the only one who'd know this. I've never told anyone, and it's something he wouldn't tell."

"What's not?" Gilbert asked, reaching forward and pinching from the letter from Feliciano. "Hmm-hmm-hmm." There was a short pause, then; "Aw, he misses you. Hehe. He probably didn't mention the awesome me 'cos it was too obvious that I'd be missed. Anyway, what'd those hair curls of yours do?"

Feliciano blushed a violent shade of magenta through his tears and stifled a nervous giggle. "Uh...well..."

Gilbert extended a hand. "Can I pull it?"

"No!" Feliciano squealed, shrinking back against the headboard and placing his hands protectively over his head.

"Hold up a second," Ludwig interrupted before things got chaotic. "The important thing is, does Antonio know what aforementioned curls do?" He raised a blond eyebrow questioningly.

Antonio shook his head. "No. I didn't know they did anything. I thought they were just, you know, unruly hair?"

"Fratello and me were the only ones who knew," Feliciano added. "It's...not really the kinda thing that we wanted public knowledge. I believe Big Brother Antonio now. Only fratello could have written that note." He wiped his eyes briefly on his sleeve and continued. "And, in the maze, we wrote that too. I remember painting that note and planting the pretty flower when me and fratello first found the middle of the maze on our own. It took us almost a whole day and fratello almost ran out of his supply of tomatoes. Nonno got really mad that we went in there by ourselves, but he was pleased we ended up safe and that we found the middle. Since the house is sold now, I never needed to tell anyone about that, and I thought fratello had forgotten altogether." A small, but undeniably happy smile blossomed across his face. "But I guess he didn't. That's why I believe that it's real, too."

Antonio smiled for the first time that morning and pulled Feliciano into a grateful hug. "Thank you, Feli. I wasn't completely sure until you said so just now." He pulled back and raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. "It explains why nothing in that world responded to my thoughts, even during the most intense bursts of emotion or most certain thoughts."

Francis hummed quietly for a moment, debating. "Well, the evidence seems to add up. But, most importantly, if Feliciano believes it, I do as well."

"Same goes for the awesome me," Gilbert agreed. "Though this still seems to be some screwed-up kinda situation. What d'you think, West?" He gave his brother a curious glance.

Ludwig sighed. and drummed his strong fingers on his knee. "I would have to say I am still rather sceptical about this situation. It is possible that Antonio did obtain these facts, whether consciously or subconsciously, which would nullify the validity of the letter. And, scientifically speaking, it is impossible to visit other worlds, if they even exist, especially via dreams."

"Ludi!" Feliciano cried, staring at his boyfriend with large pleading eyes. "I believe it!"

Ludwig paused, looking almost sheepishly at the floor. "I'm sorry, Feliciano, but you are fairly gullible. And I just do not see the proof."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "If ya look at it, West, it does kinda all add up in hindsight. I mean, Toni's fucking injured, in all the places he said about. And you can't tell me you can cause that kinda bruising from falling down the stairs or some shit like that. And besides, if Feli...hey wait! You never said what those curls of yours even do, Feli!" His pale face twisted into a smirk, red eyes glinting with interest.

"Ve!" Feliciano, who'd only just come off the backboard, shrunk back again, his face returning to its previously bright pink shade. "Uh...it...it's...it's an erogenous zone..." he muttered shamefacedly, hiding his face behind his hands. The mentioned curl was twitching slightly, as if agitated.

Antonio blinked in surprise. Wow. I never thought a piece of hair could do something like that. I wonder if me and Lovi – oh no. Lovi. Pain stabbed at his heart as he realised that Lovino was unlikely to ever speak to him, let alone bring their relationship back to what it had once been. He'd only succeeded in depressing himself again now.

Meanwhile, Gilbert had burst out laughing as Francis leant forward interestedly. "Whoa! Hey, West, did you know about this? Gonna have some fun tonight, know what I mean? Kesesesese! And your brother's did this too? Damn!"

"That's enough, Gilbert," Ludwig warned his brother, although he himself was tinged slightly pink. Apparently he didn't know about this interesting fact until now. "Moving swiftly on. Admittedly there are several things that do fit better with this explanation, but there are others which do not add up without further evidence."

"Like what?" Gilbert challenged. "How the fuck do you expect to verify this further? Feli's convinced; why isn't that good enough for you?"

"Hey, hey," Francis interrupted. "Let's cut with the sibling rivalry for a bit. I'm sure Antonio's fine with Ludwig playing the sceptic for the moment, aren't you?"He glanced across at the silent Antonio, who was still caught in the bout of guilt-induced depression that had just enveloped his brain. "Antoine?"

Antonio glanced up briefly and sighed, but didn't reply. The lump stuck in his throat was too big for words.

"Don't give a fuck about West, man," Gilbert reassured him. "He's just being a douche like usual, you don't have to get all sad about him." Ludwig shot his brother a fierce blue-eyed glare of death at this.

"It's not that," Antonio murmured quietly. "Lovi...Lovi hates me. I told him he wasn't real and yelled at him. I ran from him when he cried and tried to change my mind." Heartbroken tears began to slide down the Spaniard's battered face. "Shit...I must have broken his heart, and there's nothing I can do. There...there's no way that he'll ever forgive me for this, and..." His voice faded and he drew his legs up against his chest, biting back more tears. He was fed up of crying in front of everyone by now.

Feliciano blinked his large sorrowful amber eyes, which were once again filling with empathic tears, and reached across to give Antonio a hug.

Francis smiled sympathetically. "Do not worry, Antoine. There is always hope for l'amour, believe me. If you truly love him, and he you, then you will find your paths intertwine again."

"How?" Antonio sighed. "Last time I was there, the whole world was against me. Literally. I'm still wary of going back there, even though I know it's pretty much inevitable. And it's even worse now that I know it's real." He rubbed the bruising on his ankle thoughtfully, wondering how much worse the damage could potentially get.

There was an uncomfortable silence until Feliciano spoke up. "Ve~. Fratello is often mad, but he tends to improve if you give him time. He kinda goes explosive at the start of something going wrong. Yes, he'll be angry at you, but he'll be more likely to listen today than he was yesterday. Oh! And if I write you a note back explaining, he'll maybe listen to me too!"

Ludwig raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure, Feliciano? I mean no offense, but your brother is not the...most agreeable of people. He can hold a grudge for quite a while, against me at any rate."

"That's 'cos he hates you, West," Gilbert pointed out constructively. "It's probably different for people who aren't you."

Ludwig didn't look convinced in the slightest; then again he was always the sceptic of the group. "I still think it is unduly risky. Whether it is real or not. If it is not real, Antonio is still very much in danger of becoming a prisoner of his own mind. On the off-chance it is real, Lovino is not a very forgiving person, and it seems like the power he has over this world is more than enough to kill Antonio; he sounds like he came close already."

Antonio nodded. "Kind of. I was mid-way through drowning when my alarm clock went off."

"Hmm." Ludwig looked thoughtful, but didn't elaborate further on this point. "In any case, there is no way that Antonio is staying here by himself tonight. Thankfully, it is the weekend tomorrow, so it will be easy for us to stay up and watch him, to the best of our ability."

"Well, I suppose we have the rest of the day to come up with a plan of action," Francis said. "For the moment, I suggest we take a break, perhaps with some delicious food, and give a bit of medical attention to poor Antoine. With everything that's gone on, his injuries have gone untreated, and though they are not serious, he'd probably feel better for it."

Antonio nodded. That sounded like the best idea he'd heard all morning. "Yeah. Let's do that, and solve this in a bit."

And the truth is revealed. (Who guessed? :P) But yeah, I never had the heart to make Antonio mad in this story, in either version. He's just a little beat up. For the Moment.
*Dramatic music*
In an unrelated note, I've decided not to write the alternate ending unless I get an absolutely massive demand for it. I just don't have the time at the moment. Which is why this is also late-ish. You'd think that after exams, my workload would decrease a little, but no. If anything, it's increased. And people wonder why I have stress-related problems. Hah.
PS: Over 50 reviews? What is this magic? Thank you all so much! Am a very happy writer!