"So, let's run through this one last time," Francis announced from his seat at the end of Antonio's bed. It was now Friday evening, at about ten o'clock, and the five were clustered on Antonio's bedroom floor, which, thanks to Ludwig, was a lot cleaner than it had been twelve hours ago. Antonio was tapping his fingers nervously on his knee, his face a pallid green colour and with a sinking feeling in his stomach that perfectly matched the look on his face. He felt like he was about to be sick.
He knew perfectly well why. In less than half an hour's time, he was either going to be catapulted back into a world that tried to kill him with only an experimental lifeline for comfort, or know for certain that he'd never see the love of his life again when his dreams yielded nothing. It wasn't a great set of options, but one of them was certain to happen; he had to fall asleep sooner or later, and the presence of his friends, especially Ludwig, meant that it wasn't going to get put off very easily.
Francis had a sheet of notebook paper on the deep red carpet in front of him, upon which was a list of short notes in Ludwig's militaristically neat handwriting, as well as a couple of lines in Gilbert's untidy scrawl. He ran the end of a pen down the side as he scanned the words, reading them in a serious, albeit rather monotonous, voice. "D'accord. So, 'When Antonio goes to sleep tonight, the four of us keep a close watch on him, especially looking for signs of distress or injury. A maximum of two others are allowed to sleep at once, and we are to also keep an eye on each other to make sure we too do not fall asleep. If Antonio begins to sustain injuries, or worse, we are to immediately do everything we can to wake him. If this does not happen, at precisely seven a.m., all those remaining asleep are to be woken, and the results of the night to be discussed.'" Francis put down the pen and raised an eyebrow at Ludwig. "Seriously, Ludwig, is this how you talk all the time? I'm surprised you are able to sustain conversation, let alone retain a boyfriend. You sound like you are reciting the procedure for building a computer, not ensuring the safety of a friend."
Ludwig frowned. "Formal tones ensure a message is passed on with minimal confusion."
"Ve~!" Feliciano agreed, absently playing with Ludwig's fingers. The younger Italian was sat on the carpet next to Ludwig, after some earlier protesting had got him out of the German's lap. "There's nothing wrong with how Ludi talks! I like it a lot."
"Oh, yeah, everyone loves West," Gilbert scoffed, rolling his crimson eyes toward the ceiling. "Can we get on with this already?"
Ludwig nodded. "Yes. Back on task. Do you have the awakening equipment?"
"Yup," Gilbert confirmed. He pointed at the small pile of items sat in front of him and raised each momentarily as he spoke. "Bottle of water, air horn, poking stick and alarm. Shame Franny couldn't find that electric shocker of his, though." He gave an unpleasant grin at Francis.
"Ve~, this all seems a bit harsh to Toni. Why do you have an electric shocker thingy anyway, Francis?" Feliciano asked curiously.
Francis flicked his hair nonchalantly, his eyes fixed firmly on the wall in the other direction, and his cheeks perhaps ever-so-slightly more pink than they would be. "Ah, that is all by-the-by, you know? It comes in useful sometimes."
"Ooh, really? I've never used one before, what do they do?" Feliciano leant forward excitedly, innocent eyes wide.
"Moving swiftly on," Ludwig interrupted, quickly brushing Francis' comments aside. "We have several ways of making sure Antonio wakes up, should ordinary shaking fail to suffice."
Gilbert raised a hand lazily. "Yo, West. What happens if we can't wake him up?"
Antonio swallowed nervously. He'd already thought of this question, and didn't fancy his chances if it arose in real life. If he was in enough danger to warrant being woken up, it was unlikely he'd last for very long if he was left by himself. Only the chance warbling of his alarm clock had prevented him from suffocating in the cold blue waters of the lake and he did not want to risk such luck again.
"That is unlikely to happen," Ludwig replied seriously, but with a hint of worry in his eyes. "Antonio, on several previous occasions, has been woken by his alarm clock, so our methods are also likely to be effective. It's not as if we will stop trying if the first go fails, anyway."
Gilbert shrugged. "Just wondering as, y'know, he could die and that."
Francis raised a fine blond eyebrow again, this time at the elder German. "Gilbert, cher, what have I told you about tact? Poor Antoine looks like he's about to faint."
"Then we should get this started as soon as possible," Ludwig answered. "It may not be the best of plans, but procrastinating will solve nothing, and it's probably better for Antonio not to dwell on this. It's been bad enough for him being constantly reminded of it all day." He gave Antonio a nod, which was probably meant to be supportive, but failed to make Antonio feel any more comfortable with his situation. "Oh, and one more thing. If you have the safe opportunity, pick up something to bring back with you and put it in one of your pockets. If you are able to produce something out of nowhere, from our perspective, then I will be fully convinced that you are not delusional and this is something beyond our current understanding."
"West, you have the complicatedest ways of saying simple things," Gilbert sighed. From its nest in his silver hair, his little bird chirped in agreement.
Ludwig frowned at his older brother. "And you have an annoying penchant for making up words, Gilbert."
Francis waved his hands before the sibling rivalry could spark up again, realising time was against them and arguments were more than counter-productive at the current stage. "Calmez-vous. End of round three, you two. Is there anything else that we have to add that hasn't already been discussed?"
Feliciano's hand shot into the air, fingers clutching onto a piece of paper. "Ooh! Yes! I've written a reply to fratello! Can you take it, please, Toni?"
He was practically bouncing up and down with eagerness, and, despite all his forebodings, Antonio couldn't say no. You just didn't say no to Feliciano, it was like not being human. "Of course, Feli. It may take a while to get Lovi to talk to me, though." This, of course, was a complete understatement.
"Ve~. Fratello will forgive you, Toni." Feliciano, although still he was smiling, had a much calmer, more definite look on his face, as if he was saying something he truly believed in. It was almost serious, which wasn't a look often seen on the younger Italian, and it made the expression all the more potent. "You made an honest mistake, and fratello will realise that. Once he's done shouting, that is." He giggled slightly, fondly remembering his brother, and sighed.
Francis nodded. "Yes. Well, I suppose that it is best to begin. 'Strike while the iron is hot', as Arthur would say." He turned to Antonio, wearing a reassuring smile. "Are you ready, Antoine?"
The Spaniard shook his head. "Nope. But I don't really have a choice." What he really wanted at the moment, aside from this to not be happening, was for his head to stop spinning and his thoughts to line up straight. But it seemed that his mind was, even after everything, still against him.
Feliciano threw himself at him in a hug, spinning the pair around and narrowly avoiding knocking Antonio's desk flying. "Ve~! Don't worry, Toni! We're all going to make sure you don't get hurt, and Ludi's here so you know it's going to get done properly! And you have my letter for fratello, so he'll have to understand what happened. You'll be just fine, you'll see~." He stepped back and beamed, but there was a hint of worry under the light of his smile, like he was still slightly scared, but trying to hold back the fear for Antonio's sake. And, because he believed in his brother.
"Thanks, guys," Antonio tried to smile, but only managed a faint twitch of his lips before his expression returned to nervousness. If he didn't do something soon, the tension was going to kill him, But then again, it was the prospect of doing something that was making him so tense. A vicious circle, if you would.
"Keep safe," Ludwig told him. "If you get into trouble, try to react in a way that will be noticeable to us." Antonio had absolutely no idea what would be a noticeable way, but decided not to ask.
"Hehe," He heard Gilbert say as he lay down. "I just noticed – we're gonna be watching him sleep. We're totally creepers now. Well, 'cept for Franny. He's already one."
"Shut up, Gilbert," returned Ludwig and Francis in unison.
Antonio lay in bed, staring at the ceiling with his eyes shut. Now he was thinking of it and expecting it, sleep was adamantly refusing to come. He didn't feel tired, or even relaxed. The blankets were warm and soft beneath him, but his breath was short and jumpy, his muscles were tensed and it just felt uncomfortable. There was no way he could fall asleep being so conscious of everything around him. Not that he wanted to get to sleep quickly, though. There was still so much fear in his heart, hiding amongst the hurt and the guilt and the regret. He didn't know what could be waiting there for him, what terrors he might have to endure for eight solid hours if his friends couldn't wake him. And to make matters worse, he didn't have the faintest idea of how to find Lovino once he got there. It was possible, nay, probable, that the world would have warped itself beyond recognition. If it ran on Lovino's subconscious, then it would almost definitely be injured and broken. Antonio hated himself for causing that kind of pain, and he was willing to do anything to make things right. Would Lovino even be willing to talk to him? Poor Lovino. Dear, sweet, beautiful Lovino. Heartbroken beyond repair, hiding in a lost, lonely world, for ever and eternity. It sounded like an awful...
XxxxX
...nightmare.
Antonio froze as soon as he felt the change, with something harsh and scratchy poking at his skin as he lay on the ground, and a suffocating dampness to the air. With dread forming in his heart he sat up and opened his eyes, and gasped.
He had been right. The world, Lovino's world, once such a brilliant sunny paradise, now looked like it had been hit by the apocalypse of all natural disasters. Apart from the contours of the hills, the landscape was flat, with all signs of trees and buildings gone, as if they had never been there. Instead, the ground was flat and black, and the pale grey sky clogged with clouds of choking dark smoke. The scratchiness raking Antonio's arms was a layer of soot and ash, coating the ground like an ebony snowfall, with no evidence left of the grass that had once lain beneath. A chill wind hissed through the air, the polar opposite of the warm and welcoming sunlight of the evening before.
Antonio shivered violently, goosebumps rising on his bare arms, and momentarily wished he'd known beforehand to bring a jacket. But now wasn't the time to worry about the weather. He had to get to Lovino fast. If this was how the world reflected his emotions and thoughts, then he must be shattered, anguished beyond comprehension, a heartbroken shell. And Antonio hoped beyond hopes that there was a way to fix that.
Was it even possible for this place to be the way that it was? Heaven was called so for a reason, and the world morphed itself to help make the person experiencing it happier, to suit their feelings. How could someone be sad in heaven? And Antonio immediately felt that familiar pang of guilt as he realised that he was the one to cause such an impossible anomaly.
He shivered again beneath his thin T-shirt, and hoped that the cold wasn't going to do much damage. He had to survive eight hours in this weather, and he really didn't fancy getting hypothermia from dreams. If he kept moving, perhaps he'd ward off the cold for longer. So Antonio set off, each footstep raising a cloud of displaced ash, like a little sooty sigh.
Where could Lovino be? The tomato fields were unlikely to still be here, nor was the town, or the hill where they'd sat and watched sunsets so many times. So many beautiful memories, now all lost, remaining only in Antonio's mind.
In his mind...that reminded him. Ludwig was still the sceptic, and he may as well humour the German while he was able to. It wouldn't harm to reinforce his own mindset, either. Antonio bent down and scooped up a handful of the fine soot covering the ground, rubbing the substance between his fingers. His skin smudged black, not unlike how pencil shavings would affect it. It wasn't ideal, but, from the looks of it, it was the only thing around here. It would have to do. Thin patches of black scattered across the material as he tucked the loose ash into his trousers. With his pocket now full of the sharp obsidian powder, Antonio set off on his search with renewed force.
He passed dark and empty field after dark and empty field, all the while feeling the horrible sense of loneliness that dominated the air, the sense that made him want to run and hide, to hug someone and never let go until all was right again. And the fact that this desire was impossible to fulfill made the sensation so much worse.
Due to the sheer amount of time he'd spent here in the last month, Antonio knew the landscape well enough not to get lost, and he followed the familiar contours of the hills – the only remaining directional landmark – hoping that if he searched for long enough, he would eventually find him.
Yet the search seemed endless as his emerald eyes scanned seemingly identical terrain, finding nothing. He wished he had a watch so he knew how long he'd been out here, and, more importantly, how long he had left. If he didn't find Lovino soon, either the cold or the pent-up tension in his chest was going to kill him. A tingly feeling of numbness was beginning to caress his fingers, and the digits were turning pale and trembly.
But then, his eye caught a figure standing alone and motionless on the far side of the field, silhouetted against the pale sky.
Even knowing what was about to come, Antonio's heart couldn't help but leap at the sight of the Italian. A quiet gasp of delight escaped his mouth and he ran across the field towards Lovino's darkened figure. The Italian was standing straight, but there was a slight droop to his stance that betrayed his emotion. His brown hair blew softly in the wind, but the gentle lines of his face remained impassive, backlit dramatically by the sky. A small, dreamy smile flickered across Antonio's face. Even in such a place, after all that had happened, Lovino was still so beautiful.
"Lovi?" Antonio called nervously, keeping a reluctant but respectful distance away. One wrong move now could wreck things forever.
Lovino didn't reply, and for a heart-tearing moment, Antonio was afraid he either was refusing to hear, or couldn't entirely. But then, in a broken, barely audible monotone, Lovino spoke. "Go away. How could you even think of coming here, after all that you have done?"
Antonio felt like crying at the sorrow in Lovino's voice, and he blinked fast to halt the tears threatening to fall. It was now or never, make or break, do or die. "Lovi...I'm so so sorry. I never meant to hurt you like this. I would never want to hurt you like this. I know there's no way to turn back the clock, or anything I can say that will make you forgive me, but, for what it's worth, I am more sorry than you can ever imagine. I'm sorry I doubted your existence. I'm sorry I couldn't trust the evidence that I was so blind to. I'm sorry that I didn't think, and that my mistakes screwed everything up. But most of all, I am sorry that I hurt you." And, with the pure emotion he spoke the words, the pent-up tears burst their banks and silently traced their way down his cheeks.
There was a long, tense silence, but Antonio knew better than to speak again. Patience was his ally here; if he said the wrong thing, Lovino was more than likely to return to the vengeful anger he wielded yesterday. Antonio had no desire to upset the Italian further, or to die in impossible and increasingly creative ways.
Finally, Lovino replied. "So. You've finally realised that you were wrong, then?" His voice was still that awful broken monotone that tore at Antonio's heart.
"Yes," Antonio replied slowly. "I was such an idiot, Lovi. I was in such a state of panic the other day that...that I picked up the wrong piece of paper. I found the real note this morning and everyone believes it now, but..." He sighed. "But that was no excuse for what I did. I'm so sorry, Lovi."
There was another of those heart-wrenching pauses. "The fuck?" Lovino murmured incredulously.
Antonio bit his lip nervously. He wasn't much good at reading the atmosphere, but even an illiterate could tell that Lovino was about to get mad. "I know, I've been-"
"What the actual fuck?" Lovino turned around, and Antonio could see the shadows on his face, the red rings around his eyes, and the hurt that shone within them. He wasn't shouting, but the strength of emotion in his words was worse than any level of volume, and louder than any cry. "You expect me to believe that all this happened just because you were dumb enough to pick up the wrong fucking note?"
Antonio took a step back. "Lovi, I'm sor-"
"You already said that," Lovino interrupted. "And it's not going to work this time. It's just not enough. You would think, that with something as important as trying to convince your friends you're not delusional, you would check what you were doing. You would think, that after all we've been through together, that you would trust me." His voice began to slowly increase in volume, and his golden-brown eyes blazed with fury. "But you obviously don't! And then you have the nerve to come back, and to ask for forgiveness like this was just a little accident? Look around you, Antonio! Does this look like an accident to you? Does this look like anywhere that can be repaired? Do you even realise how much you broke my heart?" Hot, bitter tears began to fall from Lovino's eyes, each shimmering droplet striking Antonio's heart with pain. He had caused them to fall.
"Lovi, please," Antonio implored, trying to catch Lovino's eyes. "I know this isn't a small deal. Anything but. And yes, it was accidental, but certainly not the sort of accident that can be glazed over immediately. I'm sorry for what happened, and I'm willing to do anything to make things right. You need only name it, Lovi. N-nothing is worth more to me than you. I went to pieces over this – it's hurt more than anything I've known. And...and that's because I love you, Lovino. The possibility of being apart from you, and worse, of you hating me, is what I dread the most. Please, Lovi. I know this will take time to heal, but can we please try?" Antonio was well aware of his words falling over each other, and the sentences failing to connect, but he hoped that his meaning, and his emotion, would be conveyed.
Lovino folded his arms and glared daggers at the Spaniard. The wind had dropped and the world was deadly silent. Even last night, Antonio hadn't been as scared as he was now.
For perhaps a fraction of a second, Lovino's hostile expression wavered, as if he was considering giving in. But then the glare came back in force. "No. I can't. It's just...it's..." Lovino shut his eyes and swallowed, regaining his strength. "Get out. Don't come back. Don't ever come back. I...I never want to see you again."
Before Antonio could react, he turned and ran, speeding quickly away with one hand raised to his face. For a split second Antonio was motionless, then his brain reconnected and he stumbled after the Italian, crying desperately for him to stop, for him to reconsider.
But Lovino was fast, Antonio knew this vaguely from their days on the school football team, and more so from the time they'd spent together recently.
Antonio hoped beyond hopes that he could catch Lovino up, like on that fateful day when they first declared their love for each other, and somehow everything would be alright. But his stupid legs refused to obey, quickly becoming limp and useless, and after a dozen desperate steps they gave in altogether, catapulting the heartbroken Antonio to the floor. Ash sprayed into his eyes upon impact, stinging hard and rendering him blind, but it didn't hurt half as much as the molten chains that were burrowing further and further into his chest.
Aw. Poor Toni. Seriously, I almost cried on the final proof-read-through for this chap.
Thank you to everyone who's reviewed~! Yay!
And, to answer my first anon review, I'm English, and both sceptic and skeptic are used, as far as I'm aware.
Until next time... ;)