Chapter 12

Silence Louder Than Thunder

The way everyone looked at him was driving him crazy. Matthew looked so worried when he would space out in art and Alfred would hassle him at lunch to eat with them, going as far as to give him money or food when he had none.

Then there was Ludwig. He hated and loved the way Ludwig acted like nothing happened but still threw the occasional worried glance his way. There was a certain level of care that he found irritating and perfect.

So he picked up his Home act and started acting bubbly again to avoid the sad looks and questions. He'd only space out when he was "reading" and he did his best to accept any food Alfred gave him or smile enough for Matthew to stop doubting him.

This slowed Ludwig's glances but he wasn't dumb enough to think everything was okay again. He still texted Feliciano most days to check in, usually receiving a cheery reply he couldn't trust.

At the Edelsteins' Feliciano rested in his room. The urges were back and he was trying so hard not to scratch himself or "accidentally" run his hip into the doorknob. It built up until he reached into the bedside drawer, forgetting the knife wasn't there anymore. He stared at the notebook it once hid under and he felt grief bubbling in his throat.

Time for his last option: texting Ludwig. He started with a single word, something he could easily back out of.

Luddy?

A buzz and a reply came in no time.

Yes, Feli?

He did a double-take at the message. It was weird how Ludwig started calling him by the nickname he had always so adamantly refused to say.

I'm not doing well

The next few hours were spent teary-eyed and very emotional for the Italian. He was relieved, though, when he realized the urges had died down.

I'm sorry Luddy.

The phone buzzed again.

Don't be. I'm always here.

He set the phone down and felt the shard of hope growing just a bit. His days seemed to drag on like this, full of absolute hopelessness and then some small sign of hope growing before it withered away. It was confusing to be so miserable, then okay, then feeling beyond the realm of help.

Despite the recent talk he felt dead again. This was the quickest he had fallen after cheering up. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to be anywhere at all. He scrolled through his phone and started deleting all the emergency lines Ludwig had programmed in a couple weeks before. He didn't want anything to stop him for even a moment when it was time.

So Feliciano sat up, feeling a new kind of relief washing over him. He was going to be okay, he knew that for sure, because soon enough he would be with his parents again. He could leave this world and its pain behind and fade away. He was raised Catholic (or that's what his parents yelled at him about when he asked what religion they were when he was eight-years-old) but he was hoping desperately for there to be no God or devil or heaven or hell. He wanted no afterlife. He wanted to stop existing all together.

And the plans he was formulating in his head made him smile. He would be gone in no time! He would live out the rest of the next week or so, finish his earthly deeds, and fade off.

"Hi, Luddy!"

"Hello, Feliciano."

The Italian bounced around at his desk and was overall happy. He was back to sketching in a new drawing pad Elizaveta had picked up for him, stating "he needed more things." Ludwig was pleased to see his friend drawing and doodling again, it was almost like he was the same old Feliciano.

Ludwig narrowed his eyes. How did he get better so quick?

"Feliciano," he drew out. "You haven't texted me in a while. How have you been?" He prided himself on being able to voice his worries carefully.

"I'm great, Luddy. Look, I got new art supplies!" He held up the spiral-bound pad and a few artist pens in various boldness.

"Are you… are you better?" He asked slowly.

It was surprising to see a small smile grace Feliciano's lips and an honest answer. "No, but I'm getting there." He turned his attention back to his drawing and sketched on happily.

The class ended and everything was well in the universe. Ludwig walked out of the school and waved to Feliciano, who was already waiting for one of his guardians to pick him up. He waved back, smiling a little too big.

Ludwig ignored it and made his way down the street and to the awkwardly placed sidewalk. The walk home was nice and peaceful with a gentle breeze every now and again. The deep feeling of worry was just a pebble among boulders now and for the first time since the funeral Ludwig wasn't worried about his best friend. By now the little brunette knew to call him and he knew he had support. Ludwig knew today would be a good day.

The entire week went by in the same soothing calmness as that day. Each day he would sneak glances at Feliciano drawing away at new pages of the drawing pad and the occasional hum or random smile would come with it.

It rained that Friday. In the distance between the misty, heavy rain Ludwig could see Feliciano quickly jumping into the same old car as always before it took off. This time the German waited inside the school and sent a quick text to Gilbert asking if he could pick him up between classes.

He waited in the front lobby of the school and was soon met by the blonde twins he knew Feliciano to be good friends with.

"Hey, Germany! What's the deets?"

Ludwig stared at him for a moment before Matthew spoke up. "Sorry, Ludwig. Alfred heard Feli calling us by country names before a big history test the other day and he got excited."

"Why is that?"

"He got America."

The three sat together and waited for the rain to stop, which it never did. This led to Alfred bugging Ludwig until he agreed to give them a ride home once Gilbert got there. Gilbert had to finish up a college class before getting Ludwig, so the teens were left for nearly an hour killing time inside the closed school.

"Feli's been happy lately," Alfred commented. "He even drew, like, half of my portrait today!"

"You shouldn't cheat," Matthew chided.

"He wanted to help! He was done with his and bored!"

They squabbled and made a vein twitch in Ludwig's forehead. He was ready to yell at them to shut up already when his phone went off.

"Hello?"

"Get your ass out here!"

He clicked the END CALL button and motioned the blondes to follow him. They ran out to the sitting car with jackets pulled above their heads. The inside was warm and welcoming compared to the needle-like rain.

"Oh, maple!" Matthew cursed. He swiftly pulled a familiar artist pad from his bag and set it in Ludwig's lap. "Sorry, Feli forgot it in art. You see him a lot, could you return it to him? I'm sure he'd go nuts if he couldn't draw all weekend."

"Ja, I will. Danke, Matthew. I thought it was weird when he napped through study hall. I'll tell him you found it."

The rest of the ride was quiet with the occasional road rage-induced swear from Gilbert or the loud air guitar recital Alfred was performing, completely lost in his headphones.

"Screw this, the awesome me is hungry! Do you kids need to be home or are you coming with us to get food?"

Alfred perked up and agreed to food, being that he was always hungry. Matthew sighed and checked his pocket for his wallet. Gilbert took a side road and drove away from their neighborhood.

"Gilbert, do you think we could stop by Feliciano's afterward? I need to give him something."

"Whatever, West. You can see your little boyfriend."

"GILBERT."

The snake-like chuckles filled the car and the twins had a difficult time keeping Ludwig from crashing the car and killing all of them in his sudden desire to murder his older brother.

Feliciano clicked open the music app on his phone and waited patiently for anything to start playing. He smiled when a band he liked popped up, though it was a song he was unfamiliar with. It didn't matter much to him, like most things these days.

A quick trip into Roderich and Elizaveta's room had acquired him some new ammo for his plans. There was a drawer in Roderich's nightstand that held the medicines he would get for Feliciano, including an extra bottle of pain killers (from the night his parents died) and a few-weeks-old bottle Feliciano hadn't seen before. He didn't even bother to read the name on the label when he saw they were sleeping pills.

That was so painfully perfect.

He swiped the bottle and closed all the doors behind him before he went back to his room. The time was four o'clock and he would have roughly five to six hours before his guardians returned home. He sat in his room, back against the locked door, contemplating what he was about to do.

On his bed he had neatly laid out his weapons: the stolen pills, a new knife, and a belt he had never used because it was just too big for his slender waist. There was a torn piece of paper from his notebook and a dying pen in front of him and he prepared himself for his last letter.

Letters were hard to write! The music from his phone continued to play and he decided a little plagiarism wouldn't kill him. Seriously now, who gives a fuck if a suicide note wasn't totally original?

He took a shaky hand to the paper and began writing slowly and thoughtfully.

Dear Everyone,

It's your friend, Feliciano Vargas. I had a bad dream the other night that you all would stop being my friend! And when I woke up I realized it was too late for that. I'm too far gone and it's time to leave completely. I know I could be better. I don't think I deserve it…

He continued to write and triple-checked the letter. Once he found he had covered everything important he neatly folded it up and placed it on the bed. Today was his last day so he might as well live it up. He took the knife and trailed a thin line of blood down his arm.

He felt so numb that the knife did nothing to him. His arm bled beautiful release onto his elbow and hand and the floor. He frowned, feeling a new guilt to ruin the carpet again.

His phone buzzed but he ignored it. It wasn't from either of his guardians (who had their own ringtones to alert him when he needed to check it) so he didn't care.

The end of the belt was looped through the buckle and he forced the end into the dresser drawer. He slammed his shoulder into the wood and got the belt sufficiently jammed. A small leather noose hung limply from the top drawer and Feliciano grabbed the pill bottle before he gently scooted himself, in a seated position, under and through the noose. It was loose around his neck for now.

He downed a handful of the small capsules, not wanting to OD but fall asleep. As the drowsiness came upon him he placed a bloody hand on the belt buckle and pulled it with a jerk until it touched the back of his neck. Breathing got harder and staying awake was worse.

He desperately didn't want to be awake while he suffocated. With his last bit of strength he leaned forward and reached both hands back to tighten the little metal rod through a belt hole. The static of the room screamed and it was a deafening silence he was ready to leave behind.

He gasped and gagged and became dizzy. There was a new, warm pressure in his head (he assumed it was the blood being trapped). It was time to be brave, so he closed his eyes and focused on being at peace.

He was unconscious before he could even congratulate himself on dying.

"Dude, can't you just give it to him tomorrow? It's still raining!" Alfred whined. He wanted to go home, not take some unnecessary stop in the pouring cold rain.

"Christ, stop whining," Gilbert moaned. "Fucking high school kids…"

"You were there last year."

"That's different, West. I was awesome!"

The car rolled into the nice neighborhood and Gilbert looked around for the house. Ludwig checked his phone for the thousandth time and furrowed his eyebrows together when he saw the text that remained ignored. It wasn't even seen yet (Feliciano had yet to figure out how to disable "seen" notifications).

The worry was back, working its way through his entire being. There was a stabbing in his gut and he felt—no, knew—something was wrong.

They pulled into the driveway and Ludwig ran to the front door, knocking on it loudly with no reply. He smashed the doorbell and got the same lack of response. The doorknob was locked as well and he seemed to have no access to the inside. The lights were on and it was obvious Feliciano was home; he stopped working and was always home.

"Hurry up!" Gilbert yelled from the car. "I have shit to do! Did you know Antonio's getting married?!"

"It won't open!"

Gilbert sighed and turned the car off. Alfred groaned and got out with him, not wanting to be in a freezing car. Surely the house was warmer…

Gilbert ran with the twins to the covered porch and pulled out a discolored key, easily sliding it into the lock and opening the door. Ludwig was too worried to even ask how the hell he had a key to the Edelstein house.

He rushed to Feliciano's door and saw the light was on, pouring out from the crack under the wood.

"Feliciano?" He hammered his fist on the door. "Feliciano? Open up, I have your sketchbook!"

There was no response but the sound of creaking wood. A new, growing sense of dread became unbearable in seconds before he knew somehow something wasn't right.

Ludwig turned to the three men behind him, all shocked to see such obvious worry on his face. "We have to get in there," he said urgently. "Something is wrong!"

Gilbert rushed to his brother's side and they both began ramming their shoulders into the door. Matthew and Alfred took to calling out to Feliciano, hoping he'd hear them and open up.

The wood around the door splintered and cracked as they smashed into it. They all were afraid now, not knowing what was on the other side. The lock unclicked with the force of the door smacking open. Unseen to them was the damage in the frame, where the metal pieces had chipped out the wood and would permanently prevent the door from even closing.

They rushed in and saw the worst possible sight they could imagine: Feliciano, skin tinting blue, leaning forward, only held up by a belt wrapped tightly around his neck. The blood on his arms were dry and dark and there was a spilled bottle of pills strewn on the bed. Gilbert forced the drawer open and Ludwig caught Feliciano before he fell, using his shaking fingers to remove the belt at lightning speed.

His neck was bruised and marked and his breathing was…

…was he breathing?

Alfred was outside the room, unable to watch, loudly yelling on the phone to send help now or so help him God. Matthew stood with him, crying softly.

Gilbert and Ludwig had the small Italian laid on the floor, flat on his back, both trying with all their might to do chest compressions and breathe for him. The lips touching Ludwig's were cold and chapped and it was hard to breathe when he was crying so heavily.

"Silence Louder Than Thunder" by The Devil Wears Prada

What would it take for things to be quiet?

Quiet like the snow

And I know this isn't much

But I know I could, I could be better

I don't think I deserve it

Selflessness, find your way into my heart

All stars could be brighter

All hearts could be warmer

What would it take for things to be quiet?