Chapter 20

Slip Out

Feliciano went home with his foster parents later that night, this time not forced to stay at the hospital. They thought it would be better for Ludwig to stay over with them, being he was the one who saved the teenager's life, so Elizaveta called his house to alert his parents.

That night was emotional again now that Feliciano wasn't hiding it anymore. He decided to be open from then on, and to actually try when he went to therapy or when people inquired about his health and mood. The pain of guilt still swirled in his stomach but he shushed it down whenever he caught the grateful looks his family was giving him. They were thankful he was alive and he felt overwhelmed.

Feliciano went back to school once the suicidal urges calmed down. He had been seeing his therapist weekly since the first visit. Since the incident at his old house he had to spend a lot of emotional hours spilling his guts and admitting his thoughts. After a couple weeks he had his medicine adjusted and found his anxiety from before had considerably lessened. No longer did he get a text and panic that someone was going to confront him about his old habits or secrets, but he was instead happy to receive a message. He began to learn ways to cope and ways to make himself feel better without having to hurt himself. He still slipped up every once in a while and would get so worked up he'd catch himself clawing at his arm again. This was easily stopped and he calmed down by calling Ludwig.

His arm was scarred and he made a point of wearing jackets or long sleeves as an easy way to hide it. When he got to his first class he was given looks of admiration by his classmates, something completely unusual. It made him self-conscious but he sat down and counted in his head, trying to calm down the feelings.

One… two… three…

Once he got to art he was greeted by overjoyed blondes. Matthew had hugged him tightly and Alfred joined in; their hug was so strong that he couldn't break free. Feliciano sat with them and they began to catch up, only having talked through text since they last visited him at the hospital (though he was asleep when they did).

"Everyone's looking at me like I'm John Stamos," he told them.

Alfred looked away guiltily and Matthew smacked his shoulder and, in a warning tone, said, "Tell him."

"Tell me what?" Oh god they must have told everyone he almost died now everyone is going to be really nice to the poor suicidal orphan boy and oh shit they probably know he's hiding a scar on his arm and did the bruise go away because last time he checked it did—one, two, three, four…

Alfred fiddled with his glasses before answering. "Well, people were asking why you were gone again. Sorry, I couldn't use the 'his parents died' excuse—"

"Alfred!" Matthew smacked him on the arm.

"Sorry! Anyway… People kept asking us where you were and I didn't want some nasty rumor to spread about you, so I… sort of… started my own rumor…"

Feliciano's eyes widened. "You started a rumor about me?"

"Yeah."

"About what?"

"I kind of… said you went to Italy to study art and take part in some Italian program that was only running during the winter."

Feliciano blinked at him. "You said I was studying art? In Italy?"

"And that it was crazy selective and you were the only student chosen from the country. I said I couldn't remember the name of the program because it was all weird and Italian-y."

It was actually surprisingly kind of the hero-obsessed teen to do. No one knew he was depressed or in the hospital or, by some leap, figured out his parents abused him (not that Alfred knew that to tell anyone but Feliciano was paranoid over it getting out). Now everyone thought he was just working on his art. It was a very flattering lie, and he chose to accept the rumor.

He spent the class listening to a "happy playlist" Antonio put onto his iPod (a gift from Elizaveta, once again wanting him to be a teenager) and drawing with such detail it could make the teacher herself cry. If he had a lie to live up to he might as well work on his art.

Roderich was pleased to see how happy Feliciano had been when he picked him up.

"How was your first day back?"

He expected the usual reply, but was instead given something else to break the pattern. "It was nice."

"Really? Not just 'fine?'"

"Nope. It was a nice day," he smiled.

Progress was progress. As they drove home Roderich made a mental note to tell Elizaveta about the improvement and maybe teach the teen how to drive. All this carpooling was getting to him.

Feliciano watched the scenery outside his window and focused on the blurred trees and road signs as they passed by. It was the first time he could sit and just be. No overthinking, so dark thoughts telling him to open the door and splat himself against the road. It was just calm and peaceful and quiet.

The following week had been a mixture of ups and downs for the Italian. Lovino and Antonio left to move out of their old place, finally comfortable with leaving now that Feliciano's emotions were starting to balance out and he was no longer deemed a threat to himself. They wanted to be available (though hours late) if anything were to happen. Antonio had a weird fear that their new house would be cursed, as if moving there while things were hectic would only add to it.

Feliciano sat on his bed and flipped through a book Ludwig had given him when Gino jumped on top of it, demanding attention. The book was boring so he took the string of his jacket and used it to tease the cat, who went nuts and attacked it like it was Hitler. The cat began to spaz out and ran out of the room at top speeds and Feliciano sprinted after it, loving their little game of Cat and Italian.

Gino hid behind the edge of the couch, watching Feliciano with dilated eyes and ready to pounce. He, in turn, hid behind a chair and copied Gino, sneaking looks past the side of it. The cat would resituate himself and grow more and more excited until he would pounce at Feliciano and run away again.

It had become apparent to Feliciano after getting Gino that he was a source of happiness Roderich had tricked him with. Roderich was a smart man and he just knew that his plan was to keep him happy and give him something to love and possibly live for. After a while, when he calmed down from his I'll-die-if-I-want-to-regardless-of-everyone-else phase, he found the cat made him happy.

Then there was the disturbingly effective methods of Antonio to keep him alive and happy—which was informing him that Guardians of the Galaxy was going to have a sequel and he absolutely needed to see it. It was cheap, but it worked. Antonio even said he had a friend in high school he helped through his depression with little things like "you can't die yet, there's a concert this weekend and I know you wanted to go!" And his friend would go, and he would come back happy again just for a bit. It worked until he recovered.

Feliciano could tell he was getting better, though at a painfully slow pace. He didn't know how the depression snuck up on him. It wasn't an instantaneous reaction to his parents and, he had to admit, he could tell leading up to their deaths that he wasn't doing too well. He didn't even know it was there until he began hurting himself. And, like he didn't see it creep up, he also didn't notice it fading away until he would think, "Woah, I used to cry every night and now it's only once a week," and then,
"Hey, I used to hate talking about my feelings but now I feel so free," and so on.

The doorbell rang and he hurried to open the door, greeting Ludwig with a hug before inviting him in. They sat in his room and talked. Ludwig would inquire about how therapy was, how he was doing mentally, what he felt, and Feliciano answered honesty; therapy was helping him cope, he was still really tired and had urges but was learning how to make them go away, and currently he was doing well (though the night before he couldn't find his phone and went into panic mode before he found it vibrating under his bed).

"It's good to hear you're doing better," Ludwig told him. "Are you still… mad you failed?"

It was a tender subject but Feliciano quickly responded, "No, I'm not. I wouldn't have Gino if I did." The cat was laying between them, pawing at anything moving.

The German smiled, simply replying, "That's true. And we wouldn't have you."

A thoughtful look crossed Feliciano's face before he picked up Ludwig's hand and linked their pinky fingers. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to get all better and we can stay best friends forever and ever," he promised with a smile.

Ludwig accepted the finger linked with his and nodded, "Ja, you will get better. And I'll be here to protect you."

For the sake of remaining in good moods, Feliciano reached out and hugged his friend and, as not to ruin the moment, Ludwig hugged back. Gino was still between them and reaching up, trying to grab at the loosely hanging material of their shirts. Feliciano yawned and parted from the German, muttering about needing to take his siesta.

Ludwig nodded and was pulled down with the Italian to his surprise. "Lay with me, please?"

He tried his best to look stern but folded, "Just this one time."

"Thank you, Luddy!"

And they laid there, napping over the covers of the soft bed. Gino grew tired as well and laid down between the small opening between both boys' sets of legs. He purred and got situated. His body was warm against Ludwig's and Feliciano's legs.

It was nice and peaceful, just the way Feliciano liked it.

A/N: So this speeds up here because recovery seems harder to write than the spiraling down? Anyway. There will be a total of 22 chapters, all written and awaiting for me to revise them.

Sorry, kids. The whump is over.

I swear this isn't a GerIta. It's only friendly cuddling.

Bonus: The song this chapter title is based on is by Beck, but I've only heard the version from the anime Beck: Mongolian Chop Squad (dub). So it's like listening to Season 5 Denmark (Greg Ayres) singing it. Which is weird.

"Slip Out" by Beck

Sorrow is what I hate

But it's grown my sensations

Regrets taught me how to make any hard decisions

Peace is always by my side

But I've never felt it once

Love is not a word reserved only for sweet romance