Feliciano woke up on the bathroom floor. He didn't know how much time had passed, but judging by the night sky that had appeared in the window he could guess it had been at least a couple hours. The sky was pitch black, no moon and no stars to be seen. He pried his head from the ground. His face was sticky from tears, and his throat was scraped raw from screaming and he had a putrid taste in his mouth.

For a moment, he allowed himself to believe that all that had happened had been a dream. As he woke up, however, he realized that it was very real. His mind raced with possibilities. Was Ludwig's dad arrested? Was Gilbert able to stop him? Did he stop himself?

Did he actually kill him?

Feliciano shook the thought from his head. No, that didn't happen. It wasn't possible. He would never be able to live with himself if it happened. He considered going back, running through the starless night under the orange streetlights and back to Ludwig's house. He wanted to hold him, cry with him, treat his injuries and fall asleep with him, then finally wake up with him to a new day.

Haven't you done enough? A voice in the back of his head spat. Feliciano sat up and leaned against the base of the sink. Ludwig probably wouldn't want to see him. He wouldn't blame him. After all, if Feliciano hadn't been there in the first place none of what had happened would have occurred. If he had never forced his way into his life to begin with, Ludwig's father wouldn't be calling the poor thing disgusting right now.

He buried his head in his hands. "It's my fault." He muttered to himself, tears again beginning to fall. Feliciano was so sick of crying. He was so sick of feeling bad for himself, sick of drowning in self-pity and sick of being so pathetic it caused him to this way. He slowly stood up and looked in the mirror. Admittedly, he looked like hell. His eyes were red and irritated. His hair was sticking out wildly in all directions yet that blasted curl was still visible. His cheeks were streaky with tears, and there was even a bit of dried bile on the side of his mouth.

Grimacing, he turned the water on and washed his face before brushing his teeth and running a brush through his ridiculous hair. He trudged his way to his bedroom and somewhere along the line managed to throw on pajamas. During the process he noticed the cross necklace still sitting on his chest. He suppressed the urge to cry again as he tucked it under his pajamas shirt, crawled into bed and fell into a fitful, exhausting sleep filled with dreams he didn't have the heart to repeat.

.

Feliciano's eyes shot open not a second after his alarm went off. Ludwig, he needed to see Ludwig. What had he been thinking last night? Why had he not gone back? He hoped with every part of his being that he would be at school, waiting at his locker. He prayed that Ludwig's injuries weren't severe, that he wouldn't be hurt enough to be in the hospital right now. Oh god, if Ludwig had been hospitalized…

He hurled himself into school clothes, deliberately putting on the oversized shirt that Ludwig had lent him and he had neglected to return. Ten minutes later was he out the door, running to the school building with his bag banging against his back. Feliciano didn't even feel it. Ignoring everything and everyone else, he ran to the hallway his locker was in, keeping his head down. If Ludwig wasn't there, he wasn't ready to know.

He reached his locker, looked up and opened his eyes. Nothing. Ludwig wasn't there, only a dead, empty space that he was supposed to fill. Feliciano's heart hit the floor and his knees went weak. Not knowing what else to do, he fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed Ludwig's number from memory. It rang and it rang…but there was no answer. No, there had to be an explanation. Maybe his phone was dead or on silent. Maybe he was on his way. Maybe he just happened to come down with a cold.

Deep down, Feliciano knew that he was reaching. It was painfully obvious why Ludwig wasn't there. Only questions were left now. When would he come back? Would he want anything to do with Feliciano when he did? Was he hurt, and if he was, how badly?

Feliciano's hand shook as he put his phone back in his pocket. He looked around and suddenly felt exposed. He cursed himself for thinking of himself in a time like this, but he couldn't help but worry about what would happen to him that day with Ludwig being gone. Surely his tormentors had been waiting for this day, plotting what they would do at the first opportunity they had. He almost screamed when he realized this day, out of all days, was one where he had gym.

For a long moment, Feliciano could only stand there. Even though not even twenty-four hours had passed, it might as well have been decades. It felt like it had been years since he'd last seen Ludwig. Feliciano felt like there was something missing, something that he yearned for desperately. Worry overtook his body and made him sick to his stomach. It was like his heart was sliced out of his chest, replaced with a ball of anxiety and nothing else.

Please let him be okay… He thought, opening his locker with trembling hands. Come back, Ludwig…

His inner monologue was cut off prematurely when he felt a fist make contact with his back, the act followed by laughter. He held his breath until the offender walked away from him. The breath he held came out in a sigh. At least he hadn't done much of anything, but Feliciano knew that was only a warning for what would happen.

Throughout the time it took for Feliciano to make his way to the locker room and get halfway done changing, he did nothing but think of Ludwig. The memory of his terrified eyes was burned permanently in his brain, coupled with the echo of the last words he had said to him that night. Feliciano…run…please…run…

Feliciano closed his eyes and shot them open with force, a frantic attempt to get the undying image out of his mind. The attempt was futile. That image might as well have been burned into his soul. His words played on repeat. Feliciano cursed himself, wishing he had said something before he ran away. He wished he had told Ludwig he loved him, but then again, what would have happened? What kind of rage would that evoke in his father? Still, there must have been something he could have said, something he could have done…

Cold, ominous hands were gripping Feliciano by the shoulders. He froze, not daring to look behind him. How was this happening already? He had been without Ludwig for less than an hour. It was like Ludwig was the hand holding Feliciano as he dangled over the edge of a cliff. The second he was gone; Feliciano was left to plummet to his death.

"Where's blondie?" A voice said, rubbing Feliciano's bare shoulders in nauseating circles. He felt his stomach twist. Without even looking at whoever was behind him, he could tell what his face looked like: mocking and twisted into a revolting sneer. "This is what you like, right?" He said, his palms digging into Feliciano's shoulder blades.

The pressure hurt. Feliciano shrugged his shoulders deliberately in an attempt to get his filthy hands off of him. "Get off me." He muttered, surprising himself with his own words. This is what Ludwig would want, for him to stand up for himself. Besides, what more did he have to lose? Despite this, his pulse still accelerated.

"Now, now, calm down." He said. Those filthy hands made their way to the middle of Feliciano's back and he shuttered in disgust mixed with fear. "We all know what you little fags like."

That word. That word had caused so much pain. Feliciano made a silent promise to himself to never let the words cross his lips as long as he lived.

"For someone who uses a word like that, you sure seem to enjoy touching me!" Feliciano's voice cracked mid-sentence, but he did not care. These words were not his. They were too strong, too confident to be his. He ripped his shirt from he locker, stood up and pulled it over his head, finally distancing himself from the hands that weren't Ludwig's.

The boy had not expected this. He pulled back, surprised, scoffing at Feliciano and giving him a half-hearted shove before plodding away. Feliciano wasn't able to muster up any feelings of pride for this accomplishment. He felt nothing.

For once, the period passed without incident. Feliciano managed to slip away from his class, hiding behind the bleachers while the lot of them ran laps around the track. The instructor didn't notice. Feliciano wasn't sure if his teacher even knew his name. He pulled his phone from the pockets of his shorts, having brought it with him for one reason alone. He tried Ludwig's number again. No answer.

Throughout the course of the day, Feliciano was shoved twice, insulted by strangers three times and sneered at more times than he could count. He barely noticed. What he was going through now couldn't hold a candle to the pain he'd felt last night. Not only that- whatever pain he went through, Ludwig must have gone through it a hundred times over. Feliciano imagined his grandfather throwing him against a wall like a ragdoll, calling him disgusting and saying he wasn't his grandson…he shuttered at the thought.

The second he got home, Feliciano threw himself into bed. His body was wracked with fatigue, too exhausted to think, to feel. Sleep was the only escape. Feliciano wished it didn't have to be so temporary.

.

Three more days flew away. Three days that Feliciano ran to his locker only to be met by no one. Three days Feliciano was pushed around at every opportunity. Three days that Feliciano dialed Ludwig's number, waiting with baited breath only to hear his voicemail. He left messages, messages that begged Ludwig to talk to him, to give any sort of signal that he was okay, that he didn't hate him. Three days without Ludwig might as well have been three days without sun.

The fourth day fell on a Saturday. It was after noon, and Feliciano hadn't even bothered to get out of bed. Why would he? Facing the day meant facing himself, facing his worry and guilt and defeating loneliness that only seemed to double each and everyday.

Then there was a knock at the door.

Feliciano tore down the stairs, his energy levels going from zero to sixty in less than a second. He was almost afraid to take the risk to think, to hope, but that hope was all he had. He stopped once his reached the door, his hand trembling around the knob. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to a god he wasn't sure existed. He took a final deep breath and threw the door open. Please…

His worst fear came true when the figure standing there was not Ludwig. The person standing by the door was what could best be described as Gilbert's ghost. His arrogant smile was gone. Everything that made Gilbert, Gilbert was gone. The bags around his eyes suggested that he hadn't slept in days, the paleness in his face that he hadn't so much as thought about eating. Gilbird sat on his shoulder, his bead-like eyes unmoving. He ran a shaking hand through his stark-white hair, staying silent for what seemed like an eternity.

"Hi, Feliciano." He said quietly, managing the smallest smile. "Um, how's it going?"

Feliciano had never heard such a ridiculous question. He had no time for small talk right now. "What happened to Ludwig?" He took a step forward and looked outside. His eyes darted around in frenzy, searching for a flash of blonde hair or blue eyes. "Is he okay? Is he with you? Where is he? Please tell me he's okay, Gilbert! I'm sorry I ran I didn't know what else to do I-"

Gilbert held his hand out in front of him, stopping him. "That's actually what I'm here for." He said. "Can I come in?"

Feliciano's blood turned cold. Whatever this could be, it could not be good. With a shaking hand, he ushered him in and led him to the kitchen table. Gilbert sat down with an exhausted thud as if he had been standing all his life. "I was…kind of hoping he'd be here." He looked around as if Feliciano would be hiding him, sighed, and then focused his attention on picking at the edge of his sleeve. "He's not, I'm guessing…"

Feliciano's stomach dropped to his feet. The floor fell away from him, and Gilbert's words sounded like nothing more than a slur of noises. He felt his chest tighten, his ears filling with a deafening ring, vertigo hitting him like an incoming truck. It took everything he had to bring himself back into focus, to hear what Ludwig's distressed brother was telling him.

"No. He's not here." Feliciano adverted his eyes. "Why?" He already knew the answer, but all he could do was ask.

Gilbert sighed and looked up. His face held a look of utter defeat that Feliciano had never expected to see on his face. "Because he's not with me."

While Feliciano couldn't say he was surprised, devastation set in like nothing he'd ever felt before. He remembered all those confusing emotions he had felt when he was unknowingly falling in love with Ludwig. These emotions were of a similar strength, only they were the negations of what they were before. Safety was replaced with fear. Innocent nervousness was replaced by gut wrenching anxiety. Happiness was replaced with crushing depression. More than anything, hope was replaced by hopelessness. "Where is he then?" asked Feliciano, even though he knew he wouldn't get an answer.

"I'm not sure," said Gilbert. "Man, I thought he'd be here. I'm really not sure where else he'd go, where else would he want to go?" He sounded like he was simply thinking out loud, not really expecting an answer.

Feliciano's head was spinning. There were a million things he needed to ask, but he couldn't be sure how to ask them. Even if he did, did he really want an answer? "What happened after I left?" He had to take a deep breath before he asked his next question. "Is he hurt?"

Gilbert shook his head. Feliciano felt the slightest twinge of relief. "The police got there before Ludwig…lost consciousness." His voice grew quieter as he spoke. "It took, like, four guys to pull my dad off of Ludwig. Gott, it was scary. He looked like a rapid dog or something, the way he looked at him like he wanted him dead…" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I have no idea why he'd think that's an okay thing to do. Like, what kind of god would tell him to that that? He definitely wouldn't be an awesome one. All that because Ludwig loves you and you don't have a vagina?"

Feliciano could have laughed at Gilbert's bluntness if the circumstances had been different. Instead he only looked into his bleary red eyes, waiting for him to continue.

"Anyway, they threw him in jail. That's the best place he could be, if you ask me! Serves him right. There's no way in hell I'm ever going to bail him out, let his ass rot in that cell forever, for all I care!" Gilbert banged his fist against the table before getting a grip on himself. "When Ludwig got himself together after, you know, being strangled and all that…the police officers wanted him to go to the hospital, just to make sure he was okay, you know? But he wouldn't go. He fought them off and ignored me when I told them to just go with them already, he wouldn't listen to anyone."

The terrible image didn't take long to force its way into Feliciano's mind. At that moment, he knew he should have stayed. He didn't care if that man killed him, at least it would have taken his energy off of Ludwig. He should have been there to get Ludwig the medical attention he needed. If he didn't listen to Gilbert, maybe he would have listened to Feliciano? He wasn't sure, he could never be sure, because he had run away like a coward. He only nodded, willing Gilbert to keep going even if he was not sure he wanted him to.

"So I pretty much begged Ludwig to just calm down, and I am not someone who begs. Anyway, he just shoved me away from him and started throwing things in a bag. The kid is a hell of a lot bigger than me, so I couldn't exactly stop him. I tried yelling at him, but that didn't exactly go over well either since he just yelled back at me. After I realized he wasn't going to listen to me and I shut up, he got in his car and sped off. He didn't tell me where he was going, and he hasn't come back." Gilbert paused. "Did he tell you?"

Feliciano's eyes had grown glassy by the time he slowly shook his head. "No, he hasn't spoken to me since what happened." He said. "Has he called you?"

"No, I've tried to call him, like, a million times. It keeps getting sent to voicemail."

"What, so he's basically dropped of the face of the planet?" exclaimed Feliciano. This was so, so unlike Ludwig. "Do you guys have any relatives around here he could have gone to, maybe to a friend's or something?"

Gilbert raised his eyebrows. "I think we both know that you're Ludwig's only friend." He said. Feliciano nodded. The fact was unfortunate, but that didn't make it any less true. "Our entire family lives in Germany. Unless we have some long lost great-great-uncle or something around here, there's nowhere but here that I think he'd go."

Feliciano grappled for possibilities, no matter how ridiculous. "Could he have gone to Germany? Like, just got on a plane?"

"It's not like Ludwig has a ton of money. I mean, he has a debit card and money from odd jobs he's done here and there, but nothing that would get him to Europe and keep him there." He said with a sigh. "Plus, I really don't think Ludwig is the kind of person to just skip the country on a whim."

Feliciano nodded. Gilbert was right. If he knew Ludwig, he knew that even a simple birthday party took him weeks of planning. Although, after what happened Feliciano had no idea what could have snapped inside of Ludwig. He got up, got two bottles of water out of the refrigerator and tossed an apple to Gilbert. He looked about ready to keel over. Gilbert accepted it and nodded in gratitude.

"So what do we do now?" Feliciano had no idea himself.

"Well, we could start by filling out one of those missing person things."

Feliciano's eyes widened. "You mean you haven't done that yet?"

Gilbert swallowed a bite of the apple. "Hey, I really, really thought he'd be here. I thought he'd just gotten pissed and come here to cool down, and he'd be back in a couple days. That sounds like something he'd do, doesn't it? But it's been a few days now, so I got worried."

Feliciano stood up. "Let's go now!" He exclaimed. "We're wasting time! Come on, Gilbert!" He continued, racing over to where Gilbert was sitting and tugging on his arm. If they were going to find Ludwig, this was the best way to do it.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Alright, alright. Let's go, kid."

They piled into Gilbert's car and set off towards the local police station. Feliciano had never been there before, but Gilbert assured him he new exactly where it was. "When you party as awesomely as I do," he said, a bit of his signature arrogance coming back, "sometimes things get a little messy." That made Feliciano smile. He had really missed smiling.

It didn't take long to reach the police station. Feliciano trailed behind Gilbert as they walked inside and secretly hoped he would do most of the talking. They reached the inside and saw a young looking man with blonde hair and glasses, in the process of scarfing down a hamburger. When he saw them walk in he put the burger down and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand haphazardly.

"Sorry, slow day today." He spoke with an American accent so strong it reminded Feliciano what country he was in. "My name is Officer Jones! You can call me Alfred if you want, I've never been much for all that formality junk."

Feliciano was shocked at the young officer's enthusiasm and lack of decorum. He looked young, almost too young to be working there. His blue eyes were bright and attentive in a way that gave off a feeling of approachability. Alfred was a poster child for your all-American boy next door.

Gilbert was the one to speak first. "Hey, Alfred. I'm Gilbert. We need to report a missing person. My brother has been gone for three days and we have no idea where he's at." When he said 'we', Gilbert pointed his thumb at Feliciano. "This is Feliciano. He's his, uh, what do you guys prefer? Partner?"

Feliciano felt his cheeks flush. Was this really a necessary piece of information? "Partner is fine." He muttered. His eyes were fixed on his shoes.

Alfred didn't even flinch. "Missing person, huh? That sucks. So what's this kid's name and age?"

"Ludwig Beilschmidt. He's seventeen." Gilbert said. Despite the fact that he'd answered Alfred's questions already, he continued. "He ran away when my dad went nuts on him. He's, like, crazy homophobic."

Alfred's eyes widened at the explanation. He stood up and leaned over the desktop. "Oh! I was involved in that case! That dude was intense, man! It took me and three of our best men to get a hold of him!" He reeled himself back and slumped back in his seat. "That was awful to see. It's really a shame that things like this have to happen. He ran away, huh? Can't say I'm surprised. We get a lot of cases were kids are thrown out after coming out. Either that, or they just up and leave because they can't come to terms with it."

Feliciano's knees went weak. When he eventually told Lovino, would he never speak to him again? What would be the case with his grandfather? He tried to concentrate on the task at hand. This wasn't about him; it was about getting Ludwig home safely.

Alfred began rummaging around in one the drawers behind the desk. "Our detective is out today, but filling out a form is something I think I can handle." He said. "Let me tell you dudes how this is going to work. So, I'm going to put all his information on this form here." He held a piece of paper in front of him before slapping it down on the desktop. "Then once we get all the information we can on him, I'll send it down to the Detective Juvenile Unit. They'll put all his information in this thing called the National Crime Information Center. This thing basically alerts us if any information is found on him. Just to let you know, promises aren't exactly things we make around here."

Gilbert and Feliciano nodded in unison. It was about what they expected.

The officer sighed. "Here's the thing, though." He said, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. "I'm going to be honest with you. This system sucks, dude. Take it from someone who's worked on a lot of these. Ludwig is seventeen. Kids who are under fourteen are the ones that we really worry about, the ones we really search for. Runaways in general aren't our biggest priority. Now, this is something I completely disagree with and hate, but most police units see them as delinquents that'll just run away again the second we get them back home."

"Ludwig is not a delinquent!" said Gilbert. "He's a loser and he's really dumb sometimes, but this is the first troublesome thing he's ever done! And he had a damn good reason!"

Alfred held his hands out in front of him in defeat. "I know. Believe me, I know. I'm not going to pretend I know your brother, but I met him for a couple minutes when I was called to your house. I didn't have much of a chance to speak to him, but I can tell good kids from bad kids. Ludwig is a good kid."

Feliciano felt a lump in his throat and tears in his eyes. "He is." He choked out, the first words he'd said since entering the building. "He really is."

"Hey, I know you! I saw you that night!" Alfred leaned over the desk to get a better look at him. "You were running home. I don't blame ya. It must have been awful to see what was going on…" He shook his head and took a closer look at him. "Hey, don't cry. It'll be okay. I'm going to tell you a little secret. I'm probably not supposed to tell you this, but when we finally managed to restrain his insane father, your friend yelled 'you can't keep me from Feliciano, he needs me!' right at his face as we pulled the guy away! He'll come back, kid. I know he will!"

Feliciano's eyes widened as a sickening twist off guilt hit him in the stomach. The tears that had been threatening to spill from his eyes finally did. He did need Ludwig. Part of him wanted to believe that Ludwig needed him, too. He hid his face in his hands, embarrassed.

"Well that didn't go nearly as well as I thought it would." Alfred muttered. He sighed and adjusted his glasses. "Let's get this thing filled out."

The next fifteen minutes were spent with Gilbert raddling off a bunch of information to Alfred, who scribbled what he was telling him furiously on the form. Feliciano sat in a nearby chair, mesmerized by the swinging motion of his own legs. Other than answering the occasional question from Gilbert or Alfred, he said nothing. He didn't want to think anymore. All he wanted was Ludwig.

To be continued...