Chapter 4

Flowers For a Ghost

The car ride was somber at best. It broke Elizaveta's heart every time she heard one of Feliciano's strangled sobs. They were all pretty upset, though nothing was as bad compared to Feliciano.

They pulled back into their home, the sky darkening as they left the car. Roderich was helping the teenager while Elizaveta carried the backpack, hoping she packed it sufficiently because there was no way she was having Feli go back into that house.

They entered their home, Feliciano's limping making the only sound as his boot echoed against the hardwood floors. Roderich helped him to his room while Elizaveta stood in the doorway, saddened for the poor boy. She sighed and sat the bag on the couch of their living room before she disappeared into the office.

Roderich sat with Feliciano on the guest bed, trying his best to console the suffering boy. He was a sobbing mess and trying so hard not to cry, failing obviously and wiping his wet cheeks with his palms. The tears wouldn't stop and all the crying was making his throat sore and dry and he almost felt like he was drowning. His eyes burned considerably and he was surprised to feel a soft tissue wiping his tears, Roderich unable to watch him rub his own eyes anymore. When Feli rubbed his eyes, he had to wipe the tears off on his pants, and his lap had darkened wet spots. It broke Roderich's heart to see.

The sobs radiated to the office, where Elizaveta sat behind the desk and on her old laptop. It buzzed and whirled as she clicked around, trying to find some kind of family of Feliciano's to contact. She stumbled upon the young Italian's Facebook page, recognizing his bright, happy face on the profile. After a few clicks she found his brother, recognizing his name from Feliciano's stories and his face, which was astoundingly similar to his younger brother's.

She mumbled to herself as she composed a message and sent it, hoping she wasn't overstepping her boundaries. Afterward she stepped out to check on the young teenager, who was leaning on her husband and crying into his shoulder while the older man patted his back awkwardly.

She sat on the other side of Feliciano and hugged him, kissing the back of his head. And he cried even harder, mad at himself for wishing these were his parents and for forgetting his late parents for that brief second.

They hushed him and hugged him until he was calm enough to stop his crying, his eyes felt heavy and hot and his cheeks were almost raw from all the wiping. They retreated to the living room, which was adjacent to the kitchen, where they sat on the couches and gave the poor boy some water after he mumbled about being thirsty. Roderich stood up, announcing he would go order pizza and they would watch some movies to brighten the mood. Feliciano smiled lightly at the thought of getting dinner, which was never definite at his home. He had loved movies too, particularly Disney princess movies, no matter how girly it was.

Elizaveta happened to have a collection of said movies, and she and the boy picked out a few to watch and began on Beauty and the Beast as Roderich returned to them. They would do anything to keep him from crying again, and tonight was the start of it.

Feliciano yawned half-way through the movie, having already eaten the pizza they ordered and now growing tired from the events of the day. He tried his best to stay awake, falling asleep against Elizaveta, who had been stroking his hair the entire time in a deceitfully calming manner.

Elizaveta and Roderich shared a look, both happy to see the boy asleep. Roderich stood up and left for the guest room, returning with a pillow and comforter. They draped it around their ward and watched him sleep for a few minutes before they got comfy on the other couch, not ready at all to leave him just yet.

Monday came and Ludwig was surprised to see his good friend was still absent. Feliciano wasn't often absent, though when he was he almost always returned with some kind of small bruise he thought he had hidden beneath a sleeve or shirt. It was always assumed he got in fights a lot—as in, was a punching bag and too passive to fight back. If he was sick or even hurt on Friday, he would have had the entire weekend to recover. What was happening?

He hated that the smaller teen didn't have a cell phone and he claimed not to have a house phone. Their only contact was through social media, and even then it was very limited (Feliciano once slipped up, mentioning he didn't have a computer and only got to use one at libraries or friends' houses).

It was noon and lunch was underway. Ludwig was walking to the cafeteria when he stopped by the front office, immediately recognizing the stuffy Austrian Feliciano worked for, who was speaking to a secretary. He had to know something—he was Feliciano's boss! The tall man was walking out the doors and through the parking lot when Ludwig ran through the doors and after him, calling out his name.

Roderich stopped, turning around to see the muscular blonde. "Oh, Ludwig," he flatly greeted. "What is it? The shop is closed today if—"

"Where's Feliciano?"

There was a heated silence. It was obvious the Austrian was hiding something, his lips pursed in thought.

"He's been absent and I'm getting worried," Ludwig admitted, blushing a bit. He was very awkward when it came to emotions and talking about feelings.

Roderich stood there, recalling all the times the German would visit his employee at work or bring him lunch on weekends (always consisting of potatoes or wurst, which Feli never denied despite his near-constant pasta cravings). "You're close with Feliciano, correct?"

Ludwig paused, worried. "Ja, we're close."

"If I tell you this, you need to keep it to yourself, okay? Definitely no telling that idiot brother of yours."

He cringed, remembering how Gilbert used to follow him to the flower shop and harass both Roderich and Elizaveta. It calmed down when he left for college, but the scars remained. "Don't worry about that dummkopf."

Roderich took a deep breath before telling the teenager what had happened—the apparent fight and the closely following death of his parents. How the boy had been staying with them temporarily since his closest relative was in Rome and his brother was harder to find than a speck of dust. He briefly mentioned the beginning process of having to plan a funeral for people he didn't even know and how Feliciano refused to not help, wanting to make sure it was worthy. He even called his grandpa in Rome and spoke in rushed Italian about it.

Ludwig paled, shocked to hear so much happened in so little time. It surprised Roderich when he followed him deeper into the parking lot, calling to him, "I'm going to see Feliciano."

"It's the middle of the school day!" Roderich replied, incredulous.

"This is more important. It's senior year, I can take a half-day."

And so the German followed the Austrian on the road and through the streets until they got back to the house in the nice, neatly-trimmed neighborhood. This was definitely his home.

Ludwig followed him inside, shocked to see Feliciano sitting on the couch with Elizaveta to his side, turned with his head facing away while she dabbed alcohol to the stitched gash in the back of his skull. The light brown hair around his cut was darker, though it was hard to tell if it was from the alcohol or seeping blood. She finished up, re-bandaging it. Roderich cleared his throat and the two turned, surprised to see the visitor.

"Luddy!" the happy Italian cried. He stumbled over his broken toes on his way to hug his missed friend. "How are you?"

"Scheiße, Feliciano!" He gently hugged back, embarrassed to show affection and afraid to hurt the damaged boy. "Are you okay? Who did this? I'll destroy them."

The Italian paused, frowning. "I don't know. It just happened." His voice was so flat and dead it was scary.

Elizaveta watched them curiously. "Feli, dear, why don't you two go to your room? Go be teenagers."

"Yes, Miss Hungary," Feliciano chirped back. He happily grabbed his friend's hands and pulled him (slowly) to his guest room. Meanwhile she pulled her husband aside and into the office, showing him the Facebook messages between her and Lovino Vargas.

She had been conversing with him since the day before, finally making contact. She had told him of what happened and he sent a few short messages back, consisting of some broken English, swear words directed at no one, and a promise to get a train ticket back to town to do what was right and plan the funeral.

"You found him," the Austrian mused. "Italy should be happy to have his brother back."

"He needs something good to happen," she said back somberly. "Ludwig was a nice touch, he brightened up so quickly!"

Inside Feliciano's room he was sitting with Ludwig on his bed, chirping about how soft the sheets were and how much he missed seeing his friend during the day.

"I was worried when you weren't in school," Ludwig mumbled, looking away. "I was afraid something bad had happened. You tend to come back with bruises…." He trailed off, unsure of what to say or how to explain his worry without sounding too girlish.

"Well, I'm fine," Feliciano said, unusually happy for someone with such poor luck. It never ceased to amaze Ludwig how easily this kid could pick himself up after being knocked down. Of course, that made it amusing how easily he was scared. Gilbert snuck up on him in the flower shop one day, yelling surprise!, causing Feliciano to run screaming for Ludwig to help protect him. Man, Gilbert's a dick.

Ludwig's ears perked when he heard the familiar sound of a car engine. "Are you expecting company?"

Feliciano tilted his head, confusion written on his face. "No. Why?"

"I hear a car," he mumbled. Elizaveta knocked on his door right before opening it a sliver, announcing there was someone here to see Feliciano.

And Feliciano panicked. Someone was here to see him and that couldn't be good because Ludwig was the only visitor and he worried so much and before that he was expecting his parents but got the cops instead and this couldn't be good he was going to lose his bosses and be put in a boys' home and they would pick on him and he would be so alone—

"Where is he?" the voice cut through Feliciano's thoughts. He calmed down immediately when the door opened wider and his brother stepped in, taking in the sight. "There you are."

Feliciano smiled, ready to cry tears of happiness this time. "Fratello!" He cringed, stepping on his broken toes again, but hurried the few feet to his brother anyway. The bruise on his collar hurt as he pressed into Lovino so hard their ribs smashed together. For once, Lovino hugged back.

They separated and Lovino glared at Ludwig when he helped his brother back to the bed. "I swear to fucking god, if I find out you did this to him—"

"No, fratello!" Feliciano quickly interjected. "This is the first time I've seen Luddy since… it happened."

"Then who did it, huh? Whose face do I have to smash for hurting you?"

The hesitation in his brother's voice before he stuttered, "J-just some group of guys I ran into," told Lovino all he needed to know.

His face softened to an expression extremely rare for the irritable Italian. "Was it… bad?"

Feliciano gave him a defeated look, replying in murmured Italian. He didn't want anyone else to understand what they were saying,

Lovino's face was outraged and his anger came through in his voice. Whatever he was saying was in absolute shock. Ludwig had no idea they were speaking of their parents—Lovino's outrage directed at how bad it went.

"They've never been so bad that we needed stitches!"

The German regretted never learning Italian or even Spanish. He'd have spent all his free time studying it if he knew it could ever help him to understand his friend when he needed it.

Ludwig watched as the brothers argued in Italian, amazed either could speak two languages yet forget to tie their shoes in the morning. They were an enigma, the Vargas brothers. It sounded like Lovino was actually mad at his brother, though Ludwig wrote it off as being mad he didn't find out sooner.

Roderich poked his head in the room, announcing it was time for late lunch. Afterward he would pull Lovino aside to help arrange the funeral, given he was much calmer than his brother was about their parents dying. Ludwig took the hint and sat with Feliciano in his room for hours, distracting him, growing more curious about the young Italian.

"So, Feliciano," he began, crossing his legs on the edge of the bed. "You never told me why you can speak fluent Italian. You always said you could but this is the first time I've heard it."

"Mio padre wasn't very good at English," he simply replied. Germany paled, surprised he could ask something so personal given that it was obvious his friend had to have come from an Italian family.

"Gott, I'm sorry—"

"It's okay." Those words were so eerily hollow.

The day dragged on and the night fell upon them before they could catch the last glimpse of day. The adults had spent hours in the office, finalizing their quick funeral plans. The family was small, broken up mostly due to a falling out between the Vargas parents and their immediate family. Mama was shamed for being a teen mom and papa was shamed for knocking up jailbait and abandoning his home in Italy. The funeral would consist of mostly family… which was about three people. Lovino sighed, putting his head in his hands at the prospect of it all.

"Are you okay?" Elizaveta asked gently.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he groaned. "It's Feli who's upset. I never gave a shit about our parents but for some reason he won't let the bastards go."

"Lovino!" Roderich chided. "They just died Friday!"

"That's not what I mean," he grumbled. "We were blessed with the worst parents of all time and Feli hates when anyone badmouths the bastards. They forgot our birthday a few years straight and he fucking apologized for it!"

He grumbled more complaints in low Italian, lost on their ears. They could only really make out a few casual bastards every other sentence.

They agreed to get back to planning in the morning and exited the office. They had offered Lovino their other guest room, but he turned it down saying he'd rather share with his brother. Elizaveta thought that had to be the sweetest thing the Italian had ever said.

Lovino stepped out on the back porch for a moment, fingering his pockets trying to catch the corner of his cigarette box. He stopped, hearing frustrated German being yelled. On the other end of the porch stood Ludwig, who was on his phone. He hung up, angrily pocketing the device and stumbling when he noticed the elder Italian.

"The fuck was that about? Did someone steal your potato, you damn potato-eater?"

"Very funny, Lovino." He growled. Taking a breath he sat down in a weathered patio chair, complete with chipping white paint. He calmed down and looked out into the sky. "Mein vatti was yelling at me for skipping school and not coming home."

"Oh, the big bad German skipped school now."

"I spent the entire day here when I heard about your brother."

Lovino stopped and dropped his cigarettes. The German bastard got himself in trouble because of Feli? The guy who was never late to anything ditched school just to see his brother?

He picked his cigs up, finding his near-empty lighter and taking a drag. "You're alright… for a German."

Ludwig rolled his eyes at the off-handed insult. He got back up, went inside, and began his farewells to Feliciano. Elizaveta had thanked him for coming and cheering up their sad Italian, then reminded him to keep in contact.

Inside Feliciano had fallen asleep in his bed, tired from the pain medicine Roderich was making him take until his stitches were to come out. Lovino watched him from the doorway, a saddened frown on his typically-angry face. He was conflicted how to feel, in all honesty. He was pissed his parents could cause this much damage, he was ironically sad his parents were dead (though not to the same extent as his brother); he was angry to see Ludwig but thankful he could make his fratello so happy. He didn't know if he should scream or cry. So instead he slipped his pants off and got into bed as gently as he could, for once not wanting to wake his brother. He fell asleep with a new worry growing in his chest:

What's going to happen to Feliciano?

A/N: Don't worry, mental illness will make itself known soon.

"Flowers For a Ghost" by Thriving Ivory

Don't ever say goodbye

See my head aches from all this thinkin'

Feels like a ship God, God knows I'm sinkin'

Wonder what you do and where it is you stay

These questions like a whirlwind, they carry me away

Who will bring me flowers when it's over

And who will give me comfort when it's cold

Who will I belong to when the day just won't give in

And who will tell me how it ends and how it all begins