A/N: Hi, it's been forever. Wow, HAVE I CHANGED. Let me tell you how done I am. c: Hahahha I hope you all enjoy the last chapter of this dang story aight!

ATTENTION: CHAPTER 15 IS UP, GO BACK AND READ IT. (: THAT IS ALL. (I received a message from guest user: Holy Fudge, saying that it hadn't been alerted or sent to your e-mails so yep!)


Matthew Williams

Matthew Williams had been sitting in his room for the past two weeks, neglecting his cell phone and constant knocks on his apartment door. It was

expected of him, considering the fact that the person he loved had yet again broken his trust. He didn't even know if said person had reciprocated

feelings for him, he was probably just using him for the money that Feliks had promised. That's the other thing; his best friend was a busybody

who did not know exactly how to quit meddling in his affairs.

His life was officially horrible.

Jobless, friendless, loveless, and probably soon to be homeless.

The past weeks had definitely been hard. He struggled to keep himself from grabbing his cellphone to call Gilbert and beg the albino to take him

back.

Despite the temptation, he'd always put his phone down at the very last minute, telling himself it would be a pathetic thing to do.

That's what he thought he was.

Pathetic.

Feliks had to fucking buy people into loving him.

How fucking bad was that?

He sighed, moving like molasses from his bed to his computer to search for job applications online.

Recently, he had been looking to start fresh, and go to college before he turned twenty in a couple of weeks.

Shit, he remembered that he was almost twenty.

Twenty.

Two.

Zero.

Fuck, I'm getting old.

The wavy-haired blondsat in silence, gaping at the university campus he was supposed to be at, but didn't have the money for.

Through the internet, he stared wistfully at its perfect campus, I should be there. I have to be there. If I were there now I wouldn't have to deal with

my boyfriend's bullshit anymore.

He minimized the window he had open, and narrowed his eyes at his screensaver. It was a picture of Gilbert kissing Matthew's cheek.

Ex-boyfriend.

Reopening the window, he checked the tuition fees over one more time, and then recalculated how much money he'd need to finally be able to pay

for the expenses, Just about fifty million gazillion bajillion dollars short. Great.

Ever since Matthew was old enough to understand reason, he was always interested in airplanes. Originally, his plan was to attend the University

of Toronto.

Though he worked his ass off throughout high school, the partial scholarship he received just wasn't enough to support him in an entirely different

country. Which is how he ended up working for Lovino at the sex shop. Lovino payed him well, and even helped him out when he was swamped in

expenses from his apartment.

Lovino, he thought, where are you?


Lovino Vargas

"Tell me," Lovino smiled as he pressed a camera into a certain Spaniard's face, "how much do you love to breathe this Italian air?"

Antonio's own teeth flashed back at his boyfriend, "It's my second favorite thing in the world."

The Italian turned the camera towards him, and smirked while he recorded the video, "Yeah, bitches. That's right. I'm his first favorite thing, so you

can all just pack your damn bags and go home, alright?"

Lovino could hear Antonio's deep laugh in the background, as they entered their new house together.

Sliding over to his boyfriend, he swung the camera over his shoulders so that it could capture every part of the house.

"Yes, this is our amazing Italian home," he paused to look into the camera, "I know you're all jealous. Bitches, this shit is from fucking Tuscany, okay? We got some real vintage shit all up in this bitch."

Pausing the video, he watched as Antonio gathered all their boxes and suitcases from the car and moved them into their home.

Though most of their furniture had already been placed inside the house hours before the duo had even arrived in Italy.

Lovino made sure of it.

Or at least, Romano made sure his henchmen broke a sweat and got their asses to work.

He couldn't help but feel slightly giddy.

This was his dream.

He was about to live his fucking dream. Tearing up, he took a look around his extravagant home.

It was a commodious place and it had everything they could possibly need plus more.

He eyes their spacious kitchen which was big enough for he and Antonio to cook a full-blown feast.

Eyeing the spiral staircase, he grew curious as to what the rooms looked like. Each step he took only made him more anxious.

When he reached the top step, he immediately saw one of the guest rooms, which had no door. The room was vast, and had a perfect view of the

ocean. Lovino gasped, as he raced to the window. "Fuck! I love Italy!" He screamed, as he burst into a fit of giggles. Covering his mouth, he fell

onto the floor and drew his knees to his chest, hugging them tightly, "How the hell is this even real?"

"Don't really know exactly, but I'm assuming this is only the beginning of our happiness," Antonio chimed from the doorway.

It was perfect for the two.

The emerald-eyed man leaning against the doorway, looking out a window which revealed the beautiful Italian seas.

Waves crashed upon the beach, and for a moment, all was silent as they listened.

Perfection.

Breaking the silence, Antonio asked in a soft voice that rivaled a whisper, "Where are we exactly?"

"Santa Marinella, about an hour away from Rome."

Moving from his place next to the door, the Spaniard sat down next to his boyfriend, "Amazing," he said unbelieving.

Leaning on Antonio's shoulder, Lovino let a content sigh escape from his lips, "I know," but he stood up, "now let's go check out the other rooms."

~0~

While adventuring around their house, the couple discovered a few interesting things. It had five ginormous bedrooms, and six ginormous

bathrooms.

They totally could have brought along ten people!

The master bedroom, however, was the most marvelous of all. They could probably survive a zombie apocalypse in that room. Like most of the

other rooms, they had an excellent view of the mighty blue ocean, as well as a bathroom embedded with white granite and a fine bathtub and shower.

Their bed was a fucking masterpiece.

Sleeping on it would be like sleeping on fucking clouds.

Massive was what you could describe their television. Because the moment you walk into their room, it's like: BOOM. Right in your fucking face.

"H-How do you like it?" Lovino asked, facing Antonio, whose hand was currently pressed against the white granite top of the sink.

The Spaniard's head whipped up to look at Lovino. His eyes were wider than a deer's caught in headlights. He reminded the Italian of a little boy in

a candy shop, who had just been told he could get as much candy as he wanted. "Everything. Is. Shiny."

Lovino gulped, "Do you want to go back to LA?" As strange as it was, the hazelnut-haired man was frightened that his boyfriend would somehow hate it, and end up missing his old home instead.

Antonio's eye visibly twitched as he walked up to Lovino, gripping him by the shoulders and shook his entire body.

He mumbled something along the lines of, "Hasjhdjkjasdjaah."

"...What?"

Instead of using words Antonio answered him with one simple mindbogglingly perfect kiss.

Perfect.

After parting, they both panted for a moment, before Antonio laid his head on Lovino's shoulder, "God Lovi, do you even understand how much I

love you? I mean, I really love you. After going through all this shit with you... I don't think I'll ever be able to leave your side for more than an

hour."

Slowly, Lovino's hands slithered under Antonio's shirt, "You're driving me crazy here," he whispered.

Antonio's eyes lit up, "You've been driving me crazy for years, so I guess this is just payback."

Lovino froze, eyes remaining on the oblivious Spaniard. Antonio kissed his neck, then proceeded to lift the Italian up off his feet and onto the bed.

"The bed...? R-Really?"

With a chuckle and a light shrug, Antonio responded, "Why not? It feels like clouds," he smiled.

Though Lovino didn't smile back.

In fact, his head was turned to avoid his lover's face.

Antonio caught on, and cocked his head to one side, "What's wrong?" concern was clearly present in his voice.

Refusing to meet his gaze, Lovino continued to stare out the window, regardless of his boyfriend hovering over his body.

Puffing up his cheeks, Antonio let out a long breath, "Lovino, don't make me bring out the...tickle monster."

Oh shit bro, anything but that.

This certainly did help break Lovino's angry façade, because his eyes widened immensely, and a giant smiled was plastered on his face as he

yelled, "DON'T!"

Antonio's eyes met Lovino's and they both began to giggle.

Kissing Lovino's nose, he asked, "What's on your mind?"

Furrowed brows were a common sign of Lovino's unhappiness, "It's..." he opened his mouth, then closed it, and then opened it again. But he ended up pressing his palms against his eyelids and sighed.

Silence.

"It's...?" Antonio urged.

Biting his lip, the Italian finally mustered up the courage to ask his lover, "How did you fall in love with me exactly?"

This caused a bit of surprise from the Spaniard, but a wide grin as well. "You want to know? It's a long story."

"Antonio," he reached up to pull his lover's face down to his and kissed him chastely, "we've got all the fucking time in the world."


Matthew Williams

Matthew's life was at an all-time low. Well, it could be a lot worse, but he was feeling pretty glum.

After applying job after job, he finally landed a part-time gig as a teacher's assistant at a pre-school. It hardly paid anything, but it totally beat all

the other shady jobs people were offering.

On Craig's List, someone offered to pay him one-hundred bucks to be their personal body pillow.

Like, what the fuck?

He sighed, after another pre-schooler spilled orange juice all over their nap time mattress.

"I'm sorry," a little brunette boy's lip quivered, as he gave Matthew giant, watery, puppy-dog eyes.

Matthew could have sworn that his heart melted, "It's alright Joshua, just take your nap."

The little boy fumbled around on his mattress for a second, before sitting up, "Read me a story."

The Canadian laughed, "We already did Story Time, buddy. Just go to sleep."

Joshua huffed, but agreed.

Rolling his eyes, he made his way to the teacher's desk. The nameplate read: Mrs. Karpusi.

Yes, it was Heracles' mother, she taught pre-school.

"You're so darling, Matthew and the children just love you."

Smiling, Matthew replied, "Well, it makes sense. I love the children."

They made quick small talk for a moment, until Mrs. Karpusi said, "Yes, and Matthew...I have some news for you."

"Yes, what is it?"

"You're fired," she said with a smile.

Though Matthew Williams was not smiling. His smile had completely fallen right off of his face.

"...What? Didn't you just get done telling me how much the children love me?" he asked in a desperate voice.

This was his chance.

This was the only way he could afford to pay for his education.

Fuck, beside the fact that there were hundreds of other jobs available to him.

But he liked this job.

It was fun.

The Grecian woman shrugged, "Let's just say you're overqualified. Matthew, you are afraid. There are way more jobs out there suitable for you.

You're wasting your time here, I mean, c'mon. Your pay is little to nothing."

His mouth twitched, "B-But what about the children?" he clasped his chest dramatically, doing absolutely nothing to help his cause.

She shook her head, "You're not meant to be here. For God's sake! You were supposed to be an aerospace engineer, Matthew. How'd you wind up

in this place?"

His mouth shriveled up into a thin line, "Things happened. This was my only way to pay for my university's tuition."

"There's always more than one side to a story, hun. And the side you're telling me is a little less than honest."

Matthew was shocked, but he understood where Mrs. Karpusi was coming from.

He hung his head in shame, as he walked out the double-doors of the pre-school for the last time.

He'd only been working there for two damn weeks.

When he arrived at his car, he could feel something was different. Just, nothing was right. Cautiously, he moved into the driver's seat, turning on

his five year old Camry.

Yeah.

Something was definitely wrong about this picture.

Matthew shut his eyes, and swallowed hard.

Sitting behind him was a man holding a nine-millimeter handgun.

"Fuck!" The masked man cursed lightly, "I'm not going to kill you, I just want you to fucking drive!"

Startled, the blond simply nodded, zooming out of the school parking lot, attempting to keep his eyes focused on the road, and away from the

psychopathic man with a gun in his hands in the rear-view mirror.

"W-Where do I drive you to?" Matthew asked, trying not to sound as frightened as he was.

The psychopath pressed the gun to the back of Matthew's head, and whispered, "Your usual hangout spot."

Matthew's eyes widened, as sweat began to trickle down his face, "H-How d-do you know—"

"Shut the fuck up and drive," he spat out, grinding the gun against his skull.

With a small whimper, Matthew only gave the man a light nod, before driving to the spot where all his "acquaintances" smoked, drank, and got

high.

~0~

They stopped in front of the house, and Matthew unbuckled his seat belt, but was stopped when the stranger pulled out a blindfold.

He tied it over Matthew's violet eyes, and stepped out of the door, slamming his shut, then made his way to Matthew's door, pulling the Canadian

by his hair.

"Ouch!" Matthew yelped, and in turn got a mouth full of metal.

The kidnapper pulled Matthew's face close to his, and whispered, "One more word, or noise out of you, and I will pull this goddamn trigger,

alright?"

The Canadian was silenced, and too alarmed to make any indication that he understood.

But the kidnapper continued onto the door anyway, opening it without a problem.

With his eyes covered, Matthew had no idea what was going on.

The house was completely silenced.

It was never quiet there.

Matthew was escorted to the center of one of the houses many rooms, specifically the one where everyone usually chilled at.

It was there zone, their sanctuary.

Ugh, the Canadian thought, if I make it out alive, the guys will never let me live this down.

But then he started to wonder about his chances of survival, which were looking pretty slim right now.

He was being tied to a chair with rope that burned his skin as it rubbed back and forth against his hands.

He attempted to make space for his hands to slip through while he was being bound to the chair, but it was no use.

The kidnapper tied him so tight to the point where his hands began to feel numb.

"Should I do it now?" The kidnappers voice was husky, and deep.

Unrecognizable almost.

Almost.

Is...that...? Feliks?

"Feliks?" Matthew took a chance. Either it was Feliks, or he was going to have a bullet in his brain.

Sweat poured down his face like fucking Niagara Falls.

There was long silence.

"HOW THE FUCK DID YOU KNOW?" Came the response.

The Canadian sighed in relief, "Mon dieu, you really had me scared for a moment there," he laughed nervously, "now," his voice was sweet, then

this happened, "UNTIE ME SO I CAN KICK YOUR FUCKING ASS!" He wiggled around in his chair, making it hop up a bit.

"Whoa, we've got a badass over here," Feliks jested, chuckling to himself.

Matthew huffed, blowing hair out of his face, "Feliks, seriously, take all this crap off of me and explain why you did this."

"No can do, kiddo." The room suddenly wreaked of a blend of tobacco and marijuana.

"I hate you so much you have no idea. And why are you talking like this?"

Practically hearing the smirk on Feliks' face, Matthew's breath began to hasten.

Holy shit, my best friend is going to kill me. I know this voice. It's his 'killing' voice, oh my sweet baby Jesus. I'm about to be slaughtered by my best

friend.

"Like, my God Matthew, you really think I'd actually hurt you?" the Pole's voice chimed, crunching out his famous high-pitched laugh.

Matthew sighed, letting his head hang, "Feliks! This really isn't funny!"

"Okay, okay," he finally decided to remove the blindfold from Matthew's eyes.

When he opened them, the room was filled with all of Matthew's so called "acquaintances".

Then an oddly familiar woman from behind the crowd stepped forward. Her tan skin and lengthy jet-black hair was hard to miss. It was Reese Rizal,

in the flesh.

She stepped in front of the crown, walking towards me slowly, before speaking. "Hey there Matthew," her smile radiated throughout the room,

"long time no see."

The Canadian obviously could not believe his eyes, his counselor from boarding school was right in front of him. He honestly thought he would

never see her again. "H-How did you get here, Reese?" he asked, befuddled with her sudden appearance.

She nodded toward Feliks, who held his hands up, "Like, it was me. I'm totally guilty."

"I heard about your dilemma with your jackass— I mean boyfriend. Wait, I think I did mean jackass," she chuckled, "Feliks said you'd listen to me if

I came here and explained what happened instead."

"...Okay?"

Reese cleared her throat, "Well, before I explain. I gotta do this."

Reese pressed her very own lips to Matthew's.

When she broke free of the kiss, she asked, "Did I woo you?"

"W-What?"

"Feliks, I think I successfully wooed him. Can I have a million dollars now?"

The Polish man deadpanned, "No. You'd have to sleep with him too."

Reese made a face, "Sorry Mattie, that's not happenin'."

"Thank God!" Matthew cried, staring at her with a baffled expression, "Now tell my why you came here."

Clearing her throat once more, she started over, "Okay Matthew, I'm here to explain to you why Gilbert is on the verge of killing himself."

"W-WHAT?"

This remark earned her an elbow to the side of her stomach from Feliks. But Feliks, in return, received a hand to the face. "Let me work my magic,"

she whispered.

Though Matthew had not been paying attention to the duo that was quarreling five feet in front of him. His mind was wrapped around the fact that

somewhere in the Los Angeles vicinity, Gilbert was out there, hurting himself over the blond.

"Yes," Reese snapped Matthew out of his thoughts, "he's out there right now, depressed as fuck. You know. He called his older brother and told

him that he was sorry he was doing this. It was the only way he'd ever be able to get over you."

Bullshit.

"Where is he?" Matthew asked desperately.

"He's...I really don't know if this is a good idea—" Feliks said with a reluctant tone.

"Feliks, I swear to God if you don't tell me..."

The Pole rose a brow, "He's at his house."


Gilbert Beilschmidt

Like the Canadian, the albino man had been trapped within his house since the breakup.

He had no intention of seeing anyone, for he was sulking away at the loss of his love.

The same love that he had lost years before.

Plopping down onto his bed, he ran his fingers through his hair, debating whether he should call his ex. Even though he knew that Matthew would

never pick up his calls.

He'd already tried over twenty times this week.

Closing his eyes, he decided it would be best if he just tried to catch some sleep.

Bssst.

Bssst.

Bssst.

His phone vibrated.

Guess my nap is not going to happen. He rolled his eyes, flipping over so he could reach his cellphone tossed on his bedside table.

"Ja, what is it, bruder?" He answered, already knowing who it was that was trying to contact him.

Through the line, he heard a sigh, "Why is it that you haven't picked up any of my calls for the past few weeks? Do you know how worried I've

been?" Ludwig chastised, as the albino man listened.

Gilbert in turn replied simply with a word he seldom used.

"Sorry."

This was a shock to the Eastern German's younger brother, "I-It's alright then. You could have called, but since you've apologized it's okay."

"Is that all you have to say?" His voice was empty and cold, sending a chill down his brother's spine.

"Do you want to spend some time with me and Feliciano? To get out of the house? You've been in your room for almost a month."

"I'm hurting on the inside, bruder. I don't know how to deal with this."

Ludwig was silent for a few moments, "Why don't you try to meet someone new?"

"No." With that. he hung up on his brother, dropping his phone to the floor.

The light-haired man hadn't a clue on how to go about his problem. There was no way he could even try to forget about Matthew and move on, he knew for a fact that Matthew was the one, and he fucked up.

Again.

This time, however, he knew for a fact that he was in love with this Canadian.

His heart would constrict every time he thought about the blond pancake-maker.

Maybe it is time to move on... Pondering over the thought, he hesitantly picked up his phone one last time and dialed the number that was so thoroughly ingrained in his head.

He waited for a few seconds.

Then a few minutes.

Which led to him waiting for a few hours.

That turned to days.

Days became longer, and it was then that he decided that it was time to give up on his love.

...

Francis Bonnefoy, notorious for lusting after practically anything that moved, was chained down.

Whipped was a better term for his relationship with Arthur.

The trio were out and about hanging near the Santa Monica area, read to grab lunch, "Gilbert, what do you have in mind?"

A lack of expression said it all.

"...Alright," Francis sighed, irritated that the albino was being so difficult to manage. "How about you mon cher? What are you in the mood for?"

With a scoff and a light-hearted smile tugging at the shorter blond's lips, he replied, "Anything that isn't French would do. Quite honestly, I'm sick of all your lolly-gagging and your poor excuse for good taste in food. Obviously I want to go to a pub."

"Mon angleterre, you promised no more public drinking. You're only allowed to at home, remember?"

Gilbert's stomach flopped to the floor, Oh that's right...they moved in together.

While he was drowning in his own self-pity over losing Matthew, he neglected the fact that time did not revolve around him.

Things changed, and obviously people were growing apart.

Since Antonio's disappearance, and Gilbert's absence, Francis found a new group of friends to hang out with.

The albino had felt guilty of course, but also betrayed. Though he knew the Frenchman loved his boyfriend dearly, it was as if he'd completely forgotten about the red-eyed man. Like he was an insignificant shadow among all the rest of the nameless faces he passed by each day. The thought of being forgotten by one of his best friends scared him half to death. But he pushed this thought away, venturing to other bothers that were eating at his brain.

What about his job?

Ah, who gave a fuck about his job?

We all know Gilbert didn't.

Snapping back to reality, he managed to catch the last tidbit of the lover's quarrel, "You can suck my bloody dick, Frog," the Brit smirked, pleased with his words.

The Frenchman only smirked harder, and much more sinister, "Well, if you're into it...But you should know by now, I prefer it when you swallow."

Francis leaned into kiss the Brit, and their lips met in a less-than-chaste encounter.

They grinned against one another, chuckling as they pressed their tongues deeper inside the other's mouth.

A eerie, sick feeling dawned on him.

People were staring at them, but the two didn't give a fuck in the world.

They held each other closer, groping in all the places that seemed to piss the people who stared off all the more.

The Prussian man could swear that the Frenchman lived and breathed for the Brit, and that's what made his swelling heart ache.

He couldn't take it anymore. He blurted out, "I'm in the mood for Pad Thai!"

...

Now Gilbert had regretted ever coming out of his room.

The couple he was with had little intention of talking to him while they were seated at the restaurant.

They were basically to tongue-tied-up-in-each-other's-mouths to even notice his existence.

Rolling his eyes, he tapped his fingers along the edge of the table, patiently waiting for his food.

After a minute he groaned, "When's the food going to be here?" He dropped his forehead to the table, making a large clang.

Pausing, the couple looked at him, then back at each other.

Simultaneously, they said, "You need to get laid."

And that is when you stood up and left.

...

Walking around his neighborhood for the first time in ages, he took in everything. Gazing around, watching intently as people gave him strange looks for watching them intently.

He was satisfied with the way people looked at him. Like he didn't belong. He liked being unconventional. He loved having a little bit of extra attention on him, even if it was negative. The feeling of being a 'freak' by people's standards was actually great to the albino. He had an excuse for everything.

Q: 'Why are you such a dick Gilbert?'

A: 'Because I'm albino. i have a different mentality than you do, dumbass.'

His albinism had become an excuse for everything he did, and he loved it.

But as he slowly walked back to his house, he thought of one thing he never had an excuse for.

"M-Matthew?"


Antonio Fernandez Carriedo

"How I fell in love with my little tomate," the Spaniard chuckled, "Alright, I'll tell you. On one condition."

The Italian rose a brow, cocking his head to the side.

Reaching out a hand to cup Lovino's cheek, Antonio whispered, "You have to promise me, Lovi. Promise me you'll never change."

A blush spread like wildfire across Lovino's cheeks, and he muttered, "Don't be stupid, bastard."

"Alright then. Well, I remember it clearly. Ten years ago we met in Biology, remember?"

Scrunching his brows, Lovino inquired, "Didn't we meet in Sophmore year?"

Shaking his head, the Spaniard said, "You were in my first period Biology class. We never talked until Sophmore year, but I always watched you from the other side of the room."

...

At first sight, you were captivated by the short Italian, as he strode through the doors of your biology class.

First day of school, and he already had everyone in your class eating out of the palm of his hand.

He commanded attention like a military officer, and had the confidence of a supermodel.

With a little bit of height, he probably could be a supermodel, you thought to yourself, eyeing him from across the room.

Though after a while, the attention on the moody Italian died down, and all the attention was solely on his brother, Feliciano.

Sure you thought Feliciano was cute, but there was something deeper with the auburn-haired Italian.

His attitude was never seemed to falter.

Saying and doing what he wanted, and still he had this his mysterious vibe around him.

You carefully watched and observed, not wanting to charge up to him like the horny bull you were.

Halfway through the year, you discovered many quirks about his personality.

The good and bad, and how he half-smiled when his brother bounced up to him after class to give him a bone-crushing hug, but would never let his brother see

that he was happy. It was rather endearing; his shy personality, disguised by a menacing facade that everyone had grown so cold towards.

Then you began to wonder how he acted in other classes. You began attempting to track him down and figure out his schedule. You were a creep and you knew it.

If he ever found out that you got off to the thought of him changing clothes in the boy's locker room, he would probably never talk to you. Hell, you thought he

didn't even know your name.

But you were proven wrong one fateful day.

Scouting the cafeteria for that familiar face, you were interrupted by the sound of your best friend. 'What are you up to?' A thick German accent laced his voice, as he jeered, 'Still crushing on that bitchy Italian, huh?' his lips curved upward into a knowing smirk.

You deadpan, 'No, i'm looking for the mythical unicorn lair.'

An equally annoying voice arose, 'Mon ami, keep that up and you'll end up like that crazy Arthur kid.'

You flip both of them off, and say with a charming smile, 'At least I'm not the one who wants to fuck said crazy kid.'

Francis' smile dropped from his face, and was replaced with a look of scorn, he urged the Prussian to leave you alone, and they walked to the table the three of you normally sat at.

You turned your head, and a you could have sworn a ray of light led your eyes to the Italian sitting at the edge of table, pushing his food back and forth on his

lunch plate. Almost choking from happiness, you gulp, then make your way over to his table.

'Can I sit here?' you asked, knowing you wouldn't get a reply. Hell, he didn't even look up at you, but that didn't faze you in the slightest.

Feeling brave, you decided to start a one-sided conversation with the boy. 'Wow, you sure don't eat enough, you barely touched your food. I mean, jeeze, you think you'd at least take a bite, considering the fact that your paid for the meal," you were beginning to become a little nervous, due to the fact that he had now put his fork down, and began to glare daggers at you.

'What do you want from me?' he asked darkly, venom dripping from his lips.

You were taken aback by this, it was the first time he'd ever directed his anger towards you, and you began to realize why people never came around him. But you persevered, not willing to give up.

Instead, you gave him your winning smile and said, 'Just wanted to get acquainted with you is all.'

He scoffed, 'How 'bout you do us both a favor and get the fuck out of my face.'

With a pout you countered, 'No! Not until I at least get you to smile for me,' the last bit turned into a whine, and you straightened your back a bit when his eyebrows knitted even closer together.

Shit, you thought of the stupidest thing you could imagine. 'I wear boxers that have tiny tomatoes on them.'

'W-What?' His jaw slacked a bit, and his frown began to disappear.

You continued, 'Yeah, I grew fond of tomatoes after my father passed away. At first, I hated them. But now they're a reminder of the summers in Spain where he and I used to go out into our tomato fields and pick them all day.'

His reaction to your father's death was more than refreshing to you. Usually you'd get a look filled with pity, and a 'sorry' to go along with it. But he only nodded as his expression softened, and pressed further on the subject, 'When did he die?'

That was blunt.

He fixed his blunder with ease, 'When did he pass away?'

'Two years ago.'

With another nod, he started his own story, 'My mom passed away in August. That's why we moved here.'

A lump was caught in your throat, and you felt like an asshole. 'Wow, I-I...wow. Now I feel like a prick for bringing up the subject.'

Lovino's eyes widened, and his pink lips parted slightly.

You did it.

Watching in awe, you noticed his petite hand lift up in attempt to cover his mouth as he emitted the most adorable sound you had ever heard.

He giggled softly, looking at you with soft, hazelnut eyes.

That was it.

You felt your heart stop for a moment, then begin again, beating faster than it ever had before, making your face flush with heat.

From this point on you no longer had a crush on Lovino, you were in love with him.


Matthew Williams

Matthew had attempted to call Gilbert a numerous amount of times, all which the Prussian did not pick up.

He was beginning to worry.

Sweat trickled down his forehead as he drove down the four-o-five freeway towards Gilbert's house like a maniac, receiving the bird from multiple vehicle drivers.

Once he arrived at his ex's home, he hadn't even bothered to park in the drive-way.

He merely drove over the grass in Gilbert's front yard.

Panting, he hopped out of the car, knocking madly on the albino's door.

No answer.

Tears began to sting at his eyes, as he dropped down to the floor, sitting against Gilbert's door. Was I too late? he asked himself.

Drawing his knees up to his chest, he began to sob. I fucked up. I fucked up so bad.

"M-Matthew?"

That sweet, German-accented voice rang into Matthew's ears, as he whipped your head up to meet ruby red eyes. Letting out a long sigh, relief washed over him.

Still crying, he stood up and tackled Gilbert, only knocking him back a couple of inches.

Wrapping his bare arms around the albino, he whispered, "Holy shit, I thought I lost you for good."

Gilbert was too shocked to respond, only returning the favor by placing his own hands around the Canadian's waist. But when the albino figured that this wasn't a dream, he whispered back, "You never lost me to begin with."

Chucking, the Canadian gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, "Don't think I'll take you back with just a few soothing words, asshole."

There was a bit of bite to his words, but Gilbert didn't mind.

He spoke honestly, "Wouldn't dream of it, pancake."

Burying his face into the taller man's chest, he let out a muffled response, "Mmf."

The albino rested his chin at the top of the blond's head, breathing in his scent contently, then asked, "Hey babe?"

"Mm?"

"Why is your car parked on my lawn?"

"I don't even know what you're talking about."

Shrugging it off, the albino invited the Canadian inside.

...

"So, Mr. Canadian," Gilbert began smoothly, making his way toward the couch Matthew was planted on, "your birthday's comin' up real soon. Two days from now," he paused, "do you feel like a big boy now?"

Matthew lifted a brow, "Wow, you remembered it."

Gilbert's smile dropped, "Why wouldn't I remember it?"

Shaking his head the Canadian said, "J-Just... we haven't been around each other. Thought you might have forgotten."

The Prussian dropped his gaze to the floor, "Forgotten? How could I have forgotten when you were the only thing that was on my mind?"

Matthew stood up from his seat, furrowing his brows, "I... I don't know."

"Did you even once listen to my voice-mails?" Gilbert's voice cracked, and his body began to shake, "Do you not realize how much I cried over you? And seeing you now is just so overwhelming. Matthew, you have no idea what I went through trying to get over you."

Amethyst eyes glazed over, avoiding the gaze of the man in front of him, "Well my life wasn't a fucking joy ride either," his voice grew louder, "especially when you find

out your boyfriend was only using you for money! Do you know how hurt I was? I thought you...I thought this was a repeat of last time. I didn't know if you really

loved me or not."

"Matthew I was planning on giving the money to Antonio and Francis! Why the fuck didn't you hear me out before? All this pain could have been avoided."

He chuckled, covering his eyes when tears began to drip from his cheeks, "How can you even think that I've never loved you? I've always loved you. Back then, I was

too afraid to admit it. I was a stupid kid. But now I know, and I can honestly tell you that I do love you," he watched with eager crimson eyes, as the blond walked

toward him and tip-toed to kiss his lips chastely.

"Do you believe me?" Gilbert's question was a mere whisper, but Matthew definitely heard.

Matthew clung to the albino, placing one hand behind the back of the white-haired man's head, while wrapping the other around his neck.

The Prussian took this opportunity to nibble at the blond's ear, making the Canadian shudder in pleasure, as his tongue traced the outer shell of his lover's ear.

Pushing them both onto the couch, Gilbert let out a low growl, "I hope you realize that you are the biggest tease."

He looked down at the flushed blond beneath him, wondering how someone could be so perfect.

Laughing, Matthew smiled knowingly, cupping the albino's face in his hands, "Don't hate me?"

"Never," he grinned, swooping down to capture Matthew in another enticing kiss, pushing his tongue against the Canadian's lips.

The albino was straddling the blond, grinding his hips down sharply on Matthew's half-erect cock that bulged out of his pants.

Snaking a hand up the blond's shirt, the albino stopped to toy around with one of Matthew's pert nipples.

The Canadian moaned lowly, then lifted his arms up obediently as Gilbert tugged the hem of his shirt.

Pulling the shirt off, the albino gazed down at the pale skin beneath him.

Gilbert tossed the shirt onto the floor, and rid himself of his own article of clothing.

Tracing a finger from the blond's navel to this neck, he whispered, "Gorgeous," causing Matthew to blush even harder.

Matthew's cock was fully erect, pressing up into the Prussian's jeans.

Hunger filled there eyes, and before they knew it, the albino could feel his pants begin to tighten tremendously as well.

"S-Should we take them off?" Matthew asked in a hushed voice, receiving a nod from the crimson-eyed man.

Matthew fiddled around with his fingers for a moment, staring at button on Gilbert's pants, before Gilbert rolled his eyes and spoke sarcastically, "Any time today would be great, pancake."

Lowering his gaze, Matthew undid his lover's pants and pulled them down. He stared down at the chick-covered boxers that covered the albino's groin. The blond's lust was completely destroyed. Snickering and the steam emitting from the Prussian's face were the only things that could be heard.

Gilbert groaned, covering his eyes with the palm of his hands, "Boner killing boxers...fucking...why."

Matthew pushed himself up, causing Gilbert to crash onto the ground with a loud thud.

"Ow!" Gilbert whined from the floor. Even more so than before, the Canadian's laughter filled the room completely. He clutched his stomach, and the scarlet-eyed man saw tears crawling out of the corner of Matthew's eyes.

On his knees, Gilbert stared up at the blond and gently rubbed the other's thighs. The laughing ceased immediately, and was replaced with a barely audible gasp.

Gilbert was rubbing circles in Matthew's inner thighs from an awkward angle. Matthew shifted so his legs hung over the edge of the couch, making Gilbert smirk with a hint of victory. Matthew pulled his own jeans and briefs off, and Gilbert got to work.


Toris

"Are we in the clear?" Toris asked with a shaky voice. A Beretta was cradled awkwardly in his arms, as he gestured for his boyfriend to move from his position. Feliks rolled from under the table he was hiding under, then scanned the area.

"Pository," he answered seriously.

"Feliks that isn't a word... Can we please leave? I'm extremely uncomfortable right now!"

"Negatory," he replied again, but with a small smile playing at his lips.

Toris let out an exasperated sigh, then continued to follow Feliks reluctantly.

The Lithuanian man had no valid reason for agreeing to come along, he had just figured that he and his boyfriend needed to spend a bit more quality time together.

This was not what he had in mind.

Currently, the brunette and his green-eyed beau were skulking around a stranger's home that they had broken into. Toris couldn't help but feel partially to blame. Feliks promised him a romantic getaway in a foreign country, but ended up committing crimes.

He swore that if he didn't love the Polish man so much, he would have walked away ages ago.

But shit was never that simple.

After turning a corner, Toris heard faint laughter at the end of a long, granite-covered hall. At the very end of the vast hall was a closed door, light emitting from the cracks at the bottom of it. He knew for certain there were people in there, and sweat began to trickle from his forehead.

"Feliks, this isn't a good i-idea. Kill...killing people, I mean."

Sensing Toris's uneasiness, Feliks nudged his boyfriend playfully, sending him a knowing smile, "Don't worry. Just breathe."

Striding down the hallway Feliks reached the door, placed his hand on the knob, opened the door. Without even stopping to see the people inside, his lover pulled the trigger.

The Pole's boyfriend's eyes were shut tight, as he heard a loud thud of a fallen body, and a sharp shriek. A female laid in the corner, sobbing over the body. Her body trembled, as she turned to look into Feliks's seemingly darkened eyes.

Kissing the man who laid in a puddle of his own blood, the woman sobbed, "Per favore svegliati, Il mio amore..." Feliks completely disregarded the woman and her lover. He scanned the room, spotting the case that his boss had asked him to retrieve. The tanned Italian woman glared daggers at the green-eyed man through her tears.

She screamed at the top of her lungs, "Lui era il mio marito, mi è piaciuto! Si lo portarono via da me..." The woman stood up and slowly walked to her bedside drawer, and pulled out a small handgun. Feliks raised his own weapon, before he realized she was pushing it up to her very own temple.

She whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear, "Per favore...lasciare ora."

Feliks moved slyly across the room to grab the case, then made his way quickly to the door, "Non dovete fare questo."

"Che io muoia in pace!"

"Mi dispiace, solanto il mio lavoro."

As they walked out into the hallway, both men flinched as they heard one more gunshot, and one more thud.

...

Feliks drove the two away, driving in uncomfortable silence. Toris's head was turned, as tears clouded his vision.

When the brunette finally found his lost words, they sounded broken and icy. "How do you do it," he asked.

"I was trained to. Detach all emotions, that's how I was raised," he replied in monotone. It was too shocking for the Lithuanian, seeing his boyfriend in the act like this. It was as if he had never met this stranger before.

Toris became hostile, "I'm tired of sitting on the sideline watching you do all of this horrible shit!"

At this point, Feliks stopped driving. He pulled over to the side of the rode, and Toris began to panic.

Feliks looked at Toris, hard. He took Toris's hands in his, and asked, "How much do you trust me, Toris?"

"I...don't know."

The Pole's eyes found themselves staring at the steering wheel, "Well, you still love me, right?" The blond's voice was shaky.

Toris punched Feliks's arm, and practically roared, "Of course I do! Why would I put up with any of your shit if I didn't?"

"Well I'm like sorry you have to put up with me, but if you don't want to, then you don't have to!"

The Lithuanian froze, "What are you saying? Are you...dumping me?"

Feliks paused, an appalling feeling collected in his stomach, "No. I...I can't have you with me, if you're unhappy. I'd rather see you happy with someone else, rather than to be unhappy with me."

A groan escaped Toris's lips. "I'm not unhappy with you! I just hate that you have to do this!"

Toris gently stroked Feliks's arm, and sighed, "I'm sorry I brought it up. I know that this is what you need to do. I understand." He brought up Feliks's hand to his lips and lightly kissed it.

Feliks leaned closer to his boyfriend, "I love you. More than anything, Liet. Don't ever forget it." He started his car again, and they began to drive toward the city.

"Trust me. One day you'll understand why I do it," he whispered.

A melancholic frame story

"You're a fucking pansy-ass piece of shit. You wanna be a bitch? Fuck, we'll treat you like a bitch." His adolescent body was battered and pressed up against the cold, hard wood floor. His cheeks were cut and bloody.

His teeth ground together, biting back a shriek. He knew if he screamed, they would only beat him more brutally. A lecherous hand trailed up your skirt, "Does your family know you dress this way? The notorious killers...won't they be fucking delighted to see their faggot son being defiled."

A small click indicated that their was someone documenting all of this.

Small gasps were elicited from his mouth, when his skirt and panties were pulled down. "No!" His voice was broken and cracked. The two men smirked down at him, one of them held a loaded pistol in his hand. The bulkier man gripped Feliks's hair, and harshly pulled him up.

He whispered into Feliks's ear, "If you scream, I'll make sure this bullet goes straight through your head." Feliks does nothing but nod his head. The other man chuckles, then spread the young Pole's legs open. Feliks's eyes widened in pure fucking horror, as the man between his legs bit down onto his thigh.

The bulky man gave him a toothy grin, then unbuckled his belt, and pushed his pants and briefs down. His flaccid penis lay limp in front of Feliks's mouth. "You know what to do, you bitch."

...

He was left on the side of the road across the street from his parent's house. Bruised and broken. His parents came out of the house. They pulled him up by his shirt, and spat in his face. "You brought this on yourself."

The Polish boy nodded, ignoring the tears streaming down his face. His father spat at him, "You're weak. If you want people to treat you differently, change. You will have no sympathy from us."

Feliks's father dropped the pictures of him being defiled, onto the ground. "Disgrace. You're a disgrace."

...

Feliks spent his birthday alone that year. He stayed in his room, and wondered why he was born into this family. He didn't want to follow his parents footsteps. He didn't want to do any of that. He did what he wanted.

There was a light knock on his door, and muffled voices outside of his room.

"Hello?" A voice sounded from the other side. The person came in, ignoring the obvious glared that Feliks sent their way.

"Who are you?" Feliks inquired.

The brown-haired boy smiled brightly, "I'm Toris, but my mumma calls me Liet!"

"Oh... I'm Feliks."

"That's nice! We should be friends!" The boy had come fully into his room, inspecting everything he could get his hands on. Feliks's eyes trailed after him.

Feliks had never had friends before. "Friends?"

"Yeah. We can play games and share secrets and hold hands and stuff." Toris made his way to Feliks's closet. "We can play hide and seek!"

"No, don't go into—"

Toris froze for a second, "Wow! These dresses are really pretty!"

Feliks stared at him, "You think so?"

"Yes! They'd look extra pretty on you, though. You should put one on."

The Polish boy blushed, then made his way over to Toris. He lifted a box from one of the shelves in his closet, then dropped it onto the floor.

...

"Wow, you look absolutely amazing!" Feliks twirled around in his black frilly skirt and white-laced top.

"You think so?" Feliks asked, smiling when he saw Toris nod his head.

Toris lifted the box of girl's clothing, only to fall backwards.

Feliks lifted it off of him, and put it back on the shelf whence it came.

The Lithuanian boy stared at him with awe, "So strong, Feliks."

"No. I have to get stronger."

"Why?" Toris asked, cocking his head to the side.

"So my parents will love me."

Feliks sat next to the brunette on the floor, allowing his body to fall down next to him. They stared at each other.

"Hey Feliks?"

"Yes?"

"You're really pretty. I don't think you need to change at all."

...

"Hey," an Italian boy said, eyeing you, "I heard you dress like a girl."

Your voice had deepened by now, and you were going through an awkward teenage phase, "Yeah. I do what I want."

"I also heard you suck cock."

You were repulsed by this boy's vulgar choice of words, but you smiled nonetheless, "Like I said," your smile dropped, "I do what I want."

It was his turn to smile. "So you can do anything?"

"It depends what you want, duh," you say with sass.

Romano grinned from ear-to-ear, "I have a proposition for you."

...

He asked you what happened, and you flat-out told him, "I've been raped and tortured, but that doesn't matter much to me anymore. All I want now is revenge."

"I can help you get that, all you need to do is help me."

Feliks quirked an eyebrow, "Your wish is my command, boss."

Lovino

Antonio leaned against the cement railing at the top of a lighted staircase, awaiting his date. The past year he'd been living with Lovino, he was constantly stressed, worrying if his lover would make it home each night.

The vacation in Barcelona that he suggested hadn't exactly ceased over-active thoughts. He smirked, thinking about all the shit they went through the past year. All

the things he did for the little Italian. Leaving his career, his family... and all the friends he abandoned.

The Spaniard was just feeling a bit homesick, but he was sure things would change very soon. Tonight was the night to make his move. He fingered the small wooden

box in his pocket, and sighed. His plan had to be executed perfectly.

He needed it to be.

"There you are, you asshole!" Lovino yelled, almost completely out of breath. He was hunched over, breathing hard at the bottom of the staircase, "I had to fucking

search the entire city for you, you fucking bastard! Holy fuck!"

The Spaniard smiled, and walked towards his lover with his hands in his pocket. Lovino had yet to realize where in Barcelona they were in. Antonio had sent him on a

little scavenger hunt through the city without him. Antonio's eyes shone, as he manned his station. It was then that Lovino realized where they were. "The...Parc de la

Cuitadella...?"

The lights from the staircase luminated the small lake of the magnificent park. Lovino's soft breaths were hardly audible over the faint plops of the crashing water. The

statues stood tall over the park, and Lovino was captivated. He met Antonio at the top of the step, and allowed Antonio to slip an arm around his waist and lead him

to the center of the complex.

The hazelnut-eyed Italian seemed pretty floored, he turned to Antonio, who was pretty scared shitless.

"So, how are you liking my hometown?"

It took a minute for him to respond, but when he did, he was almost speechless, "It's...amazing."

"It really is, isn't it? But that's not why I asked you to come here. W-Well, it is, but not entirely I guess?" Antonio cursed under his breath. He was very very nervous.

Lovino hummed, passing him a curious glance, "Then what is the real purpose of you making me go on that damn adventure? That was a fucking workout."

With shaky hands, Antonio pulled Lovino's face towards him, and pressed his lips to the Italian's. They shared a sugar-filled moment, and right then and there, Antonio knew for certain that things would be okay. They broke apart, and Antonio stared into Lovino's pigmented honey eyes.

"Lovino Romano Vargas, I love you. I love you so much, I can't even begin to fathom what my life would be like without you. I want to spend every day with you,

because when you're gone I just can't seem to function right..." Antonio's hand searched through his pocket, as Lovino's eyes began to grow bigger and bigger with

each passing word.

"...I truly and sincerely believe that by some God-sent miracle, we are supposed to be together."

Antonio pulled out the box, and took Lovino's hand, descending down onto one knee, "I want to grow old with you. And I promise, if you let me, I will make you

happy."

He paused, and Lovino looked like he was on the brink of tears.

"Will you marry me?"

Matthew Williams

"Matthew, I need to ask you something serious, and you can't laugh at me." Gilbert was nervous as shit. He'd been planning this for months now, and he was kind of

worried about what his boyfriend would say. Would he take him seriously? He just did not know.

Matthew tossed around in his sheets, before peaking his face over the covers. "What is it Gilbert? Do you have any what time it is? How did you even get into my

apartment...?"Gilbert had to climb through his boyfriends window on the fifth floor to get in, but there was no way in hell he would tell his lover that.

"Your door was open."

"But I locked it last night?"

Gilbert paused, then changed the subject back to where he was previously headed, "So I wanted to talk to you about something serious, as I said before I was so

rudely interrupted!"

The Canadian smiled lazily, rolling his tired eyes, as he allowed his boyfriend to sit on the edge of his bed. "What is it then? Get on with it, you've already woken me

up."

With the loud clearing of his throat, Gilbert decided to rip the sheets of Matthew's body, which earned him a kick to the stomach.

"Get dressed! I'm taking you on a date."

Matthew groaned, "This early in the morning? Gilbert. Seriously. It's like five a.m., no restaurant would be open."

"I never said anything about eating, pancake. Unless, that's what you'd prefer to do," the crimson-eyed man winked lecherously.

"Mon dieu," he pinched the bridge of his nose, then released a sigh, "fine."

The couple left the apartment shortly after, and headed to a place where the two of them shared some pretty amazing memories.

Gilbert did the classic "surprised you with a blindfold" scenario, and the two of them drove in anxious silence.

"Are we almost there?" Matthew inquired, exasperation in his voice.

"Yup!" Gilbert brought the car to an abrupt stop, causing Matthew's body to lunge forward, then back to the seat. His hands were firmly gripping the armrest.

"Jesus. Your driving is horrible."

The albino pouted, exiting the car, and opening the door for the blond.

"You ready for this Matthew?"

"I...think I am?"

Gilbert smiled, "This is where I fell in love with you." He untied Matthew's blindfold to reveal the boarding school where they first met.

"Whoa. This is... Whoa. I wasn't expecting this."

Gilbert shrugged his shoulders, "A lot has changed since the last time we've been here, but I figured that it still may have some sort of sentimental value. And I was

pretty much right. This is pretty moving, if the Awesome Me may say so."

Matthew looked around, the giant academy, with it's perfect ocean view. It was weird to him, and he had no idea why Gilbert brought him here.

"So...now what?" The blond asked.

Gilbert passed him a dubious stare, "Well..."

The Canadian deadpanned, "You haven't exactly thought this through, have you?"

Ouch. Matthew saw right through him. Gilbert winced, "Not entirely, but it's a lot more difficult doing this than you think, okay?"

Furrowing his brows, the amethyst-eyed man asked in a soft voice, "Are you breaking up with me?"

Gilbert cocked his head to the side, with wide, creepy eyes. He spoke in a monotone voice, "Yes, Matthew. That is the reason why I dragged you here. So I could break

up with you, kill you, then hide your body in a cave somewhere," he snapped his head back, "No, verdammt! Why the hell would I break up with you?"

"I don't know... you just had that tone of voice."

Moving toward the Canadian, the albino wrapped one arm around his lover's waist, then pulled him closer to his body. "You need to stop it with all this insecure shit."

Gilbert kissed Matthew's temple, "Pancake, you're perfect. And I wouldn't have you any other way than how you are now."

His face was beet red, as he playfully pushed the snowy-haired man away. "Stop lying to me."

Gilbert's face was a mix of embarrassment and shock, "Ach mein Gott,are you serious? C'mon Mattie. You're... really amazing. Both inside and out."

Matthew quirked a brow, and his lips curved up into a soft, warm smile. "What's gotten you all sweet?"

"I'm always sweet," Gilbert pouted.

"Yeah, okay."

There was a few minutes of nothing but squawking of seagulls and the serene crash of the waves. "Matthew," Gilbert began, breaking the silence, "there is a serious

reason why I brought you here."

"What? Are you going to propose?" He joked, chuckling a little at his own lame joke.

Gilbert's face was serious, but he shook his head. "No, but now you took the 'UMPH' out of my question. You overshot, dammit!"

"What is it then?"

"I've been thinking about this, for quite a while..."

Matthew stared at him.

Gilbert stared back.

"I think you should move in with me."

Matthew hadn't a clue how to reply to this. He hadn't a clue what to make of this situation, and right when he was about to give his response, the world blacked out.

And How Did We Get Here?

"Matthew? Matthew! Please wake up, holy fucking shit!"

There was a giant pound. Then a couple of more. Then Matthew realized that it was just his head throbbing. Everything was numb, and everything was dark. He

seemed to be tied up, and his body was pressed against metal. He felt like he was somehow...moving?

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words could be formed.

"Matthew, please for the love of God, wake up!" It was Gilbert's voice he could hear. He regained a bit of strength, and let out a shaky breath.

"G-Gil?"

"Oh my God, thank you Jesus," he sighed, you felt his lips press against yours, but you couldn't see him. It was too dark in the room.

Matthew was too drowsy to create coherent sentences, "What are we here?"

"...What?"

"Where?"

Gilbert was silent for a while, "I don't know what happen exactly. I think we were kidnapped though."

The blond sighed, "Feliks..."

"You think it's Feliks? That's actually a really good guess, but why would he drug us?" Gilbert thought aloud.

Matthew replied, groggily, "Shit happens."

"Matthew, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

"Shut the fuck up Gil."

Despite their situation, Gilbert laughed to lighten up the mood, "No but seriously, I have a feeling we're on a plane or some shit. I think a luggage fell on top of me or

something."

"'How the hell did we get here?' is a better question."

There was a shriek, followed by gunshots.

They hit turbulence.

Gilbert and Matthew both flinched, "What the actual fuck is going on, Gilbert?"

"Okay, how the hell would I know?" The albino was panicking, this was so not how he planned this date to go.

There were footsteps, all trailing up, before they heard a loud bang.

The open door let in the bright light that blinded them, and Matthew stared at the silhouetted figure.

"Feliks?"

The mystery man stepped forward, inching his way toward Matthew. This man was certainly not Feliks.

"Wrong. Don't you dare ever mistake me for that fucking faggot." The man was tan, with short dreadlocks tied into a ponytail. His eyebrows were thick, and his gaze

was menacing.

He gripped Matthew by the hair, and pulled him up.

Gilbert growled, "Let him go you piece of shit!"

"Ow!" Matthew winced, as the man threw him back to the metal floor. Matthew was a deer-in-headlights, when he saw the burly man turn towards Gilbert. The gun

directly pointed between his ruby-red eyes.

"No..." he whispered.

Gilbert was staring at Matthew, and mouthed, "I love you," before closing his eyes.

Matthew cried out, "NO! Please don't shoot him. Please don't! I-I can't. Please, I'll do anything!"

The man stiffed for a moment, then turned and smirked back at the blond. "Anything, you say?"

Gilbert shook his head, "No, Mattie don't do—" This earned him a kick to stomach. He wheezed in pain, then fell to his side.

The man told Gilbert to shut up and stay down.

He began to unbuckle his belt, and Matthew began to tremble.

He shut his eyes, and cried.

The man's hands were all over his body. Squeezing and gripping anything he could get his meaty hands on.

Please make this stop.

The man pulled Matthew's pants down, and roughly pushed him over, so his face was grinding the floor.

Someone please help me.

His hands were cold, and rough. They were eager and uncaring.

Gilbert.

Matthew bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, as the man's dick pressed up against his ass.

I need you Gilbert.

"I fucking told you earlier," Gilbert's voice rang through the (rather spacious) Captain's closet, "I don't want you to fucking touch him!"

The albino tackled the man to the ground, using the loosened rope around his wrists to choke the man from behind.

Matthew struggled to stand up with his pants around his tied ankles.

"Take his gun!" Gilbert yelled, struggling to hold down the now red-faced man.

The gun rested on the floor, right below the kidnappers feet. Matthew reached over to grab it, easily getting kicked in the face.

He bit the man's leg, and took it anyway, because he was that fucking gangster.

He took aim directly at the man's penis, and slowly placed his finger on the trigger.
"Mattie, do you know how to u-use that thing?"

"Shut up and move."

Gilbert did as he was told and let go of their kidnapper who was, at the moment, completely out of breath. The kidnapper rubbed his bruised neck. Matthew kicked the

man in the throat, and gritted his teeth together.

"Au revoir, salope."

Then he fired.

"Are you alright?" Gilbert asked.

"M' fine. I just want to find out where we're going. And why this man kidnapped us."

Gilbert sighed, running his hands through his hair. "We have to stay low until we come to a stop though, there could be other people here that want to hurt—"

The door opened again.

"Oh shit, HAY GIRL."

Matthew aimed the gun at his best friend, who stood there with an amused expression plastered on his face.

"I see you've met Carlos," he paused, tapping Carlos's body with the tip of his shoe. "...I see you've killed Carlos," he said with a smile.

"Feliks, you are some sort of creepy."

Matthew dropped the gun to his side, walked up to his best friend, and began to bawl.

...

"So what is happening exactly?" Gilbert asked, once they were settled in one of the first class seats of the airplane.

Everyone around them (with the exception of Feliks, and Toris) was dead.

"Don't worry about it. It's just some killer business." Feliks giggled.

Matthew stayed in quiet in his seat, fiddling with his fingers. Gilbert touched his hand, and he flinched away.

Gilbert was hurt, but his expression was soft, "Do you need me to get you anything, Pancake?"

The blond shook his head.

Gilbert placed a gentle hand on his boyfriend's back, and caressed him for a while.

"Like, what the hell even happened?"

"Shut up Feliks," they both managed to say.

Feliks pouted while he muttered something about his two friends being ungrateful.

There was nothing but awkward silence and Gilbert's soft coos for the rest of the flight.

Lovino Vargas

"Ack!" Lovino yelped, after being tossed over his Spanish fiance's shoulder. "Let go of me, you fucker!" He giggled.

He punched at the ass that stared him directly in the face.

Practically hanging upside down, and Lovino could feel the blood rushing down his head.

Antonio replied with a laugh and the shake of his head, "No can do, mi tomate, I got a call from one of your workers and he said that this was pretty important."

"Who?" Lovino stopped struggling for a moment, "I haven't heard from any of those crazy bastards in months!"

The olive-skinned man groped his little fiance's ass, "Well, you're in for a hell of a surprise."

...

"What the fuck...?" Antonio put Lovino down, so the Italian could turn to look at the four men.

"Lovino? Tonio? Holy fucking Gott!" Gilbert nearly shrieked, his mouth breaking into a giant smile. Antonio was pretty excited as well, and they both ran up to each

other in what had to be the greatest bro hug in the history of bro hugs. "Where the fuck have you been, man? I've been so worried, you don't even know!"

Antonio just shook his head, burying his head in the crook of his best friend's shoulder, "I'm sorry man, but I had to be with Lovino."

The Prussian pushed his friend away, taking him by the shoulders.

Crimson eyes narrowed, and pale pink lips stretched into a cheeky grin, he whispered, "I see that golden ring on your left finger, you silver-tongued devil, you."

Gilbert's eyebrows wiggled into a little wave.

Meanwhile, Lovino, Feliks, and Matthew all hugged each other in a super non-girly homo group hug.

"F-Fuck! Don't tell anyone this, but I-I really fucking missed you guys!" Lovino choke-sobbed.

Matthew was in between the two with his head tilted downwards, letting his tears stain his cheeks, "You just up and left, Lovino. You left without a trace. You left me

jobless. You both left me friendless. I can't believe you were here this entire time. Who the hell even does this?"

Matthew's slender fingers ran through his hair, tugging down on it hard, as if he were trying to tear it off his very own head. "Do you not realize how selfish that was?

Do you know how bad things were for me there? None of you know how I feel! But it's not like either of you give a shit!"

The Canadian was now hunched over, shaking. Lovino and Feliks passed each other a look, then knelt down before him to pat his back and attempt to comfort him.

Lovino sighed, "Matthew, I'm sorry. I had to make some tough decisions when I was planning my escape here, and leaving my two best friends behind was one of the

toughest. I swear, leaving was difficult for me as well, and fuck... I admit that I regret not telling you, but I did it for your own safety. What if you were kidnapped by

some of my enemies? I didn't want you to get hurt. The less you knew, the safer you were. That's why I left you both the way I did. And I'm sorry, because as fucking

corny as this is... you deserve to have a better friends than me and Feliks."

"Okay, hey. Speak for yourself, honey. I'm fucking fabulous and I totally kick ass. I am a dank best friend, bitch. Don't you forget it."

Lovino rolled his eyes at Feliks, and for once he actually sounded sincerely gentle, "I don't know what else to say to you, but if you don't want to talk to me right now,

I'd understand."

Feliks's confidence faltered, "I guess that, I'm like pretty sorry too Mattie." He rubbed his arm, turning his head away from his two friends.

Matthew looked up at Lovino and Feliks took their hands in his, "What you did wasn't okay, but I'm willing to forgive you for now. At least the three of us are here

now."

"This is so gay."

"Shut up Lovino, we all need to like, wallow in our gayness every once in awhile."

Toris took this moment to awkwardly cough. He literally had no place in their little homo-reunion, but he could feel the gay vibes radiating off of their bodies.

Antonio and Gilbert came up to the scene of the F.M.L group holding hands, and they both started to laugh. "What the hell are you guys doing?"

The Italian and Canadian chose to ignore the question, but Feliks said something along the lines of, 'Nothing, just summoning Satan.'

...

"Well fuck, in the name of this holy church Cathedral (makeshift tent), do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

They were all just a bunch of friends on a beautiful beach in South Italy, and none of them could have asked for more.

The serene harmony that the waves made and the soft white sand turned everyone to jello. Everything about this whole thing was so peaceful and surreal.

"Jesus H. Christ, Feliks, really?"

Feliks clapped his hands, "Lovino, we're on a beach, and I'm not even a legit priest, okay? I got ordained online. Just answer the damn question."

Lovino wore a white, clean-cut tuxedo, while Antonio wore a black one. They looked absolutely perfect, and everything about the ceremony was perfect. It was a

shame the priest caught the influenza the day before their wedding. They had no other option but Feliks, apparently.

The Italian pinched the bridge of his nose, then exhaled loudly.

He looked up into his soon-to-be husband's emerald eyes, "I really fucking do."

"And do you," Feliks turned to Lovino's green-eyed lover and paused dramatically, "take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Antonio half-glared-half-laughed at Feliks, then turned to Lovino and whispered, "I do. With all my heart."

A few 'aw...'s came from their guests, but they were soon silenced by Lovino's dagger glare.

"Shit! We're all homosexuals up in this bitch, then! You may kiss the groom!"

Antonio pushed a few stray strands away from Lovino's forehead, then took his cheeks into his hands. Lovino wrapped his arms around his husband's torso, and tip-

toed to meet the taller man's lips.

When they broke apart, and eruption of clapping and whistling came from their audience.

Before the newly-wedded couple went to the mob of friends, Lovino took Antonio's hand. "You trust me, right?"

"With my life."

Lovino tilted his head and gave his husband an award-winning smile, "I love you. So fucking much."

"And I love you, Mr. Carriedo."

The Italian blushed, crossing his arms, "I only took your last name because I believe in tradition. Asshole."

Feliks chose this time to butt into their romantic conversation, "Yeah, because everything about this is totally traditional! You just had a gay wedding where you were

married by a fake gay priest with none of your relatives (albeit Feli), on a beach. I think this breaks every tradition there is."

"Fuck you Feliks."

The Polish man shrugged his shoulders, giving the couple a hug.

The newly weds greeted everyone from Gilbert and Matthew to Ludwig and Feliciano, attempting to run away from the albino who persistently attempted to throw

uncooked rice at them for good luck.

Their were only ten people at their wedding, but those ten people were more than enough for them. More than enough, for the pair was already as happy as they

could possibly be.

Matthew hugged Lovino and Antonio, "Congratulations you guys!"

"Thanks, Matteo!" Antonio smiled.

"Where's the honeymoon at?" Matthew inquired, curious.

Lovino sent Antonio a dubious look, "Yes, where is our honeymoon going to be?"

Antonio smiled down at him, "That is a secret that shan't yet be revealed!" He turned and gave Francis a less-than-sneaky wink.

Francis face-palmed, then decided to wink back, because you just can't leave a bro hanging like that.

"Okay...?"

...

All ten of them stayed in the guest rooms of the Carriedo couple's mansion. To be honest, they were all floored when they walked in.

No matter how much they all wanted to cockblock the newly weds, they couldn't bring themselves to do such a thing. Everything was too damn exquisite in the house

that they couldn't find the time nor motivation to do so.

Plus the beds were divine. They were clouds, figuratively speaking.

Speaking of beds, and the things that people do in them: Everyone in the house got laid that night.

Everyone.

Epifuckinglogue

...

"How's everyone holding up here, honey?" Antonio placed his large hand on his lover's shoulder.

Lovino turned and glared at his husband, "When the fuck did we establish that you could give me that pet name?"

Antonio ignored his question, moving over to kiss his temple.

"I guess they're all doing pretty well. I talked to Matthew though, he's been saying that Gilbert's acting pretty weird these past couple of days," Lovino leaned into

Antonio's touch, "If he hurts Matthew, I'm going to cut his throat."

The emerald-eyed Spaniard sent him deadpanned stare.

"Just an 'F.Y.I'"

Antonio shook his head, "I'm afraid I can't let you do that, babe."

With a middle finger and rosy red cheeks, Lovino cursed in Italian, screaming and hitting his husband.

"Ow! Lo siento! I won't call you babe!" Antonio whined, nursing his brutally (but not really) injured arm. "Anyways, Gilbert's acting weird because he's going to do

something that he said was 'really fucking awesome that his pancake would definitely fucking love'."

Romano's eyebrow rose, "I wonder what the fucker has in mind."

...

"Gilbert, I absolutely refuse to be blindfolded by you...again. I don't want a repeat of last time!" Matthew smiled, holding onto Gilbert's hands.

"Fine, fine. You're missing out though. The surprise is going to be slightly less awesome, but still pretty friggin' ridiculously awesome."

The couple walked along the beach shore, Matthew stopped to pick up shells every now and then.

"Why do you keep picking up the broken ones?" Gilbert tilted his head to his side, making a disgusted look, "The ones you're picking up are gross. Why don't you pick

up pretty ones?"

Matthew stopped walking, then turned to face Gilbert, "These shells are like people."

"W-What?"

There was a soft smile on Matthew's face when he explained, "They're fragile, and close to being completely destroyed. But even though they're broken and battered,

I still think they're beautiful."

Gilbert's pale fingers brushed against Matthew's sun-kissed cheek. He said nothing, he just took Matthew's hand and continued to walk.

"You're worrying me, you know?"

"Yeah. I worry myself sometimes too."

The Canadian smiled, "No, I'm serious. You've been weird recently. Have I done anything wrong?"

Gilbert narrowed his eyes, then began in a serious tone, "How can you even ask that question? I'm the shitty boyfriend! I should be asking you that!"

Confused, was the correct emotion the blond was feeling at that moment. "You're not a shitty boyfriend, Gil."

His harsh tone faltered when he looked down at the giant, lavender eyes that stared back at him.

"Answer this honestly, Matthew... How much do you love me?"

Matthew hadn't hesitated, "I love you with all my heart."

The Prussian's mouth stretched into a giant grin. "Wow, that's a lot of love, Pancake." He leaned down and kissed Matthew's nose.

Matthew smiled, "And you?"

"More than you could ever imagine."

"Oh?"

"I love you from here," Gilbert pointed to his feet, then pointed toward the sun, "all the way to there!"

Matthew giggled, "All right, fair enough. When am I going to get my surprise though? I'm getting pretty restless waiting for you.

Gilbert licked his lips and smiled. "Okay, here we go."

Clearing his throat, he eyed his lover with an intense gaze. "I am absolutely in love with you, Matthew Williams. Completely," Matthew opened his mouth, but Gilbert

raised a hand, "and utterly in love. And I just want you to know that I would really love to spend the rest of my life with you. Bare with me, this is a little weird, and no,

I'm sorry I'm not proposing right now..." Matthew's smile grew, as he let out a breathy laugh. "I'm not ready to propose to you, yet. I promised myself I'd become a

better man before I do that. I want us to get married, and have kids, and I know that's physically impossible, but that doesn't mean we have to stop trying right?"

The Canadian bit his lip, holding back his words.

"I... I want to do this right, Matthew. You have no idea how scared I am. I don't want to mess up with you, again. You're the greatest prize anyone could ask for, and

I'm so fucking grateful that I have you in my life," Gilbert paused, then pulled out of his hoodie a slip of paper, "which is why I want to take the first step."

Matthew's eyes widened, "YOU BOUGHT A HOUSE?"

"Yep."

"W-Why?"

Gilbert continued his spiel, "I want you to live with me. I have a job offer, and It's really close to the university you want to go to! And I don't know...I just. I can't

imagine my life any other way."

Matthew's hands were covering his mouth, "What about your house? What about my apartment?"

"We can sell my house. And we can move your stuff?"

"Oh mon dieu! Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Matthew cried. Gilbert didn't know whether his boyfriend was elated or pissed.

"I didn't want to overwhelm you... I guess."

They were both silent, then Gilbert asked, "So...you don't want to move with me?" He sounded heartbroken, but Matthew only slapped his hand.

"Of course I'm moving in with you! Don't be dumb Gilbert, I love you so much. I just," he sighed, "can't believe you bought this expensive-ass house on impulse."

"It wasn't on impulse though, I've been thinking about this for a while."

Matthew wrapped his arms around Gilbert's neck, and pulled him down for a kiss.

...

The Williams-Beilschmidt

"Hey Gilbert, I'm on my way home, alright?" Gilbert tried to feed this damn bratty kid some mush while holding his iPhone to his ear at the same time.

"Yeah, sure, Pancake! See you soon!" The little shit wouldn't accept his mushy offering. Gilbert tried to transform the food into an airplane, but the kid still wouldn't

budge! This was really frustrating. The albino hated how his own child completely refused him.

"See, if your Mom were here, you'd eat this shit."

"Gilbert! Don't cuss in front of him! His mind is a sponge at this stage, what if he starts developing bad habits?" Matthew questioned you from the garage door.

"Aw shit, when'd you get home?" Gilbert stood up, and walked over to kiss his wife. Er, husband.

Matthew leaned into his husband's touch, "Just now. Stop calling me 'mom' too, I wanna be Dad."

"Naw! I'm Dad, you can be Papa."

The Canadian made a face, "Way to make me feel old, Gil."

"We're not old yet. Don't worry."

Matthew sighed, "Yeah. We have a long was to go."

The albino sauntered back to their child, and picked him up. "This lil' guy isn't eating."

Matthew began to feed him, and the child willingly opened his mouth for the blob-like substance. This irritated Gilbert.

"Why does he like you and not me? I'm feeling a little bit unloved here."

"It's alright," Matthew looked up at Gilbert, "I'm sure he'll come around."

"When?"

Matthew looked down at their child, then kissed it's forehead. "I don't know, but we have all the time in the world."

Gilbert placed his head onto his husband's shoulder. And they sat. They sat for what felt like ever in their humble home somewhere the fuck in Canada.

This is the absolute end


A/N: I'm so fucking done._.

Translations (I'm sorry if they're wrong, but if I get a butt-ton of corrections, I'm going to ignore them. Please be considerate, because this fucking chapter was 13,000plus words, ok. It was not easy so blah!):

Per favore svegliati: Please wake up

Lui era il mio marito, mi è piaciuto!:

Si lo portarono via da me: you took him away from me...

Per favore...lasciare ora. : Please...leave now.

Non dovete fare questo: You don't have to do this.

Che io muoia in pace!: Let me die in peace!

Mi dispiace, solanto il mio lavoro: I'm sorry, I was only doing my job.