#aphfallfandomweek

##

Alfred was absolutely bored.

The storm had completely defeated his short-term plan of staying home for the weekend and completing his planned Achievement Hunter video game marathon. But the lightning had gotten the better of this plan, and Alfred groaned, rolling over on the couch. 

Thankfully, his phone was still at a solid 91%, which indicated that he was still able to answer some of his students’ emails. But Alfred already had a rule in place that physically disallowed him from answering such emails: he worked his ass off so much in the week that he kept that rule strictly followed to stop himself from accidentally forgetting to eat his meals again. Treating himself was not a practice that he felt accustomed to, but he was forcing it upon himself before he ended up too focused for the next 18 hours.

But that didn’t necessarily solve his primary dilemma: Alfred was still bored. 

There was nothing in the house that he felt he could physically do, and honestly killing his phone off would be the worst thing that he could end up doing right about now. So, for now, Alfred had decidedly turned off the phone’s LTE status and let it sit silently in his pocket while he waited impatiently on the couch for the storm to end. 

Alfred could hear the rustling of the fall leaves outside, with the rain hitting his window like a coordinated attack. It caused instances of randomized droplets to hit his window. This was paired with the wind as if it were knocking gently on Alfred’s door to open it for him. And Alfred mentally exhausted himself thinking about all the leaves he would have to rake up later. Alfred exhaled through his noise quietly, turning over to lay on his side as he stared at the television. Come on, Jones. Where was the creativity he had when he was a kid? What would his 8-year-old self even do in this situation to make it less boring?

After having almost talked himself to make a pillow fort, Alfred sat up at the sound of angry knocking on his door that didn’t sound at all like the weather outside. He blinked, sitting up as he stared in the direction of the sound. He tugged his phone out of his pocket for 2 seconds to read the time. 

10:49 PM

Alfred frowned. Well great. This was the most opportune time for someone to rob his house, isn’t it? In the middle of a rainstorm? Where no one would hear his screams...
The knock was heard again, causing Alfred to jump. In an instant, he stood up, grabbing his University sweatshirt on the couch as he made his way to the door.

“I’m coming,” he called to the door lazily. ‘Oh well,’ Alfred thought. Honestly, if a person did come to rob his house directly, it would at least give him something to do. Maybe he put those PUBG skills to the test. Something. Anything.

Using his phone, he turned on the flashlight, opening the front door and shining the light down on the man’s feet. The wind almost blew the door enough to slam into the wall, had Alfred not caught it.

The light had made it a lot easier for Alfred to see his visitor’s face; it was one that looked too adjusted to the darkness enough to cringe from the sight of the brightness.

“Oh!” Alfred smiled, turning the phone away from the other. Not a robber. “Hey, Arthur. I didn’t expect that you’d be here.”

“Of course not,” Arthur murmured irritably. His rain matted hair had a scent of earth to it as he pushed past Alfred quickly to get into the house and out of the rain. Without permission. Alfred closed the door as he locked it tightly with three locks for good measure, though a bit bothered by the sudden intrusion.

“Nice to see you too,” Alfred said tiredly back, going to follow him.

The Englishman hung his coat on the side of the leather couch that Alfred had lain on ear-lier, dripping rain all over onto it. Alfred rolled his eyes, retrieving scooping the coat up and bringing it to the clothing rack he had next to the door to let it drip dry there instead. When Alfred returned, Arthur was found lying on the couch where he previously was, and exactly the same position Alfred was too.

“Okay, time out,” Alfred said suddenly, arms crossing as he went to then go up to Arthur. He couldn’t quite see his face well in the darkness, so he grabbed his phone and shined it directly into his face. It caused the other to wince, holding a hand up to cover the beam. 

It’s from this decision that Alfred was able to see that Arthur looked absolutely tired and at the same time, soaked. His clothes were sticking to his skin and his face looked absolutely pale from being outside. The raindrops that were on his face were reflected from the light, and it showed just how drenched he was.

But this did not make Alfred any more sympathetic.

“Dude. I know I said you were welcome into my house anytime,” Alfred said exasperatedly. “But literally crashing inside of my house without even explaining what the fuck happened to you in the first place... I could report you for trespassing.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Arthur apologized laxly as he kept swatting the light uselessly away. Alfred turned off the light and Arthur opened his eyes again to meet Alfred’s, revealing half-lidded, unfocused eyes. “I wouldn’t have come here if I had known your power was out. But I didn’t know where else to go.”

Alfred sighed loudly at that response. “Come on. I was going to take a shower before the water got cold later. But I guess you can have it. I don’t want your dirty germs all over this place or else Matt’ll have my head next time he visits.”

“Right.”

With a heave, Arthur eventually got up from the seat, wobbling a little in his stance on the way out of the living room. Alfred caught him before he was able to lose his footing, arm around his shoulder as he began to help him stand up straight.

“Okay,” Alfred exhaled as he began to help him step by step. “So, you’re getting fatigued from being outside in the rain for too long. How long were you even out there?”

“Oh, you know,” Arthur sounded hoarse when he began to speak again. “A few hours.”

“Hours?” Alfred almost shouted incredulously. But before he could inquire more, Arthur began to wobble again, causing him to stumble with him to catch him. And with some effort, the two of them made it to the bathroom. Alfred set his phone flashlight on and placed the device on the sink counter. It’s then that he began to start smelling something else faint from Arthur’s breath. Alfred deadpanned.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you.”

“A little.”

Alfred just let Arthur sit down on the toilet as he began the water and gathered towels. It was a thunderous noise that rivaled that from the rumbling outside.

“Why?”

“Stress. Why else would anyone drink?” Arthur snorted, leaning back against the toilet seat frame as he watched Alfred tiredly.

“Well yeah. But everyone has a reason.” Alfred said passively, pulling the knob to turn the shower on. He let Arthur undress, though he was familiar with helping him if he needed. Alfred’s brother hadn’t been too much different in high school with his marijuana addiction; always lethargic and slow.

“Alistair,” he said as he got into the tub as if it were an explanation. Alfred closed the curtains and sat on the toilet seat, finally taking a moment to catch his breath before waiting for him to finish. The sounds of flowing water were heard against the curtain, just like the windows. 

“He finally kicked me out,” Arthur finally clarified. The sound of a stressed, squeezing bottle was heard. “Gave him a good shiner for being a selfish spaz and letting his girlfriend take advantage of him again. She’s ugly too.”

“... well, no wonder why he kicked you out.” Alfred commented. “You know you don’t just call your brother’s girlfriend anything worse than ‘a bitch’ and expect to get away from it without an injury.”

“He deserved it though!” Arthur complained. “He’s been playing into her selfish demands like he doesn’t have his own sense of restraint. I already told him off once about it and he didn’t want to fix the problem. Kept saying that I was the problem.”

The water shut off immediately and instinctively, Alfred tossed in a towel from the top of the curtain. Arthur grabbed it.

“Well, anyway,” Arthur continued as he pulled the curtain open and stepped out; towel wrapped around him comfortably. “I was hoping to get to Francis’ by bus. But I had the unfortunate luck of standing outside for a good thirty minutes before decidedly walking here for an additional 2 hours.”

Alfred frowned. Hmm.

Alistair and Arthur had shared an apartment together in the hopes of saving some money and the trouble of putting up with a new roommate who might potentially be a worse candidate. But Arthur had eventually been unable to keep up with the pay, last Alfred had heard. The University’s English Department recently began some budget cuts that were more than just a few thousand dollars. And because of this, Arthur had gotten the short end of the stick and was fired immediately, even after recently being hired for the last few months.

Which was a waste, honestly. Arthur had become a quick favorite amongst others in the department. But since getting fired, Arthur hadn’t been himself lately. And Alfred knew that his own choice of words of ‘my house is open for you’ seemed appropriate at the time. And he definitely needed that help, evidently.

Alfred, as well as Alistair, didn’t think it would take this long for Arthur to find a job, of course. But after about two weeks, Arthur stopped texting Alfred on updates. Alfred already assumed the Englishman had gone away to a different state by then, or even back to England.

Alfred stretched his legs in the seat as he went to retrieve the clothes for him.

Arthur followed his stance a bit better after the shower.

“Sorry I ain’t got nothing to entertain you with; power being out and all.”

Arthur shivered visibly as Alfred went to his bedroom, swinging the closet open. Inside was a stockpile of University-sponsored clothing but a healthy amount of professional wear which were reserved for when he had to teach.

“Perhaps it was a bad idea to come to your place in this weather,” Arthur was heard grumbling, trapping his hands under his armpits in an attempt to keep warm as well as keep the towel around him. “And I assume that means you aren’t spending your weekend on your consoles again?”

Alfred practically threw his sweatshirt and striped pajama pants at Arthur, letting it plop against his face.

“I don’t wanna hear you start disrespecting me after I just let you use my shower,” Alfred huffed. “And video games are completely valid as a way to relieve stress. You know. Instead of drinking.”

“Touché.” Arthur agreed as he took the sweater and wrestled the sweater on. But even after this, he was still visibly shivering.

“You’re still cold?”

“No.”

“Yeah, no. I’ll be right back.”

Shutting the closet door, he began for the living room again, opening up a drawer right next to the fireplace that held a stash of ridiculously thick blankets reserved only for the winter. Arthur trailed behind again like a lost puppy.

“Even now, you still don’t like to listen to me,” Arthur murmured, sitting back on the couch. “But thank you.”

“I never like listening to stubborn people anyway,” Alfred retorted back. “And you’re welcome.”

Alfred went over to sit next to him, now realizing that he was starting back again at square one and staring at his blank television screen. After a few moments, Arthur interrupted the silence.

“Well? Aren’t you cold?

“It’s not like I was out in a storm,” Alfred snapped back, already irritated that Arthur was still talking.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Right. Then what exactly were you even doing here before I got here? I was hoping at least you could think of something for us to do.”

“How should I know?” Alfred was annoyed now. “I wasn’t expecting company before you got here. All I really did was sit here and planned to wait until the power went back on. Or maybe make a pillow fort.”

“Well, that’s hardly anything productive. I would have thought someone like you would stay organized. I mean. You’re the one who still has a job.”

Alfred ran a hand through his hair and groaned. The last thing he wanted as a fight with Arthur when he was being unreasonable and tipsy.

“You know, I could also kick you out too.”

“I know.”

Silence followed.

“Have you any flashlights?”

Alfred closed his eyes. “No batteries.”

“Not even the batteries?” Arthur gawked. “I thought you were the engineer type and owned at least a few backups.”

“Geez, keep your voice down,” Alfred flinched, turning his head to face the other. Despite the harshness of Arthur’s voice, he was found leaned back against the chair with the recliner up, eyes closed. He still looked angry, even with his eyebrows furrowed.

“And I was going to get some tomorrow the next time I went shopping,” Alfred continued. “Which was going to be tomorrow. My bad that I didn’t know the power would get blown out by tonight."

“That’s entirely inexcusable,”

“Like I said, how was I supposed to know that I needed batteries the day before I planned to get the fucking batteries?”

Arthur opened his eyes again, staring at the ceiling a moment before turning his gaze to Alfred’s. Alfred briefly wondered how he even had the energy to retaliate responses being so sluggish.

“Then do you want to talk then?”

“Huh?”

“It’s an idea,” Arthur sighed. “Sorry. I’ve just been... very quiet about everything for a while. At home with Alistair. I just want to talk. You’re the first person who’s actually held a civil conversation with me within the last week.”

Alfred sighed. “Every time we talk, it ends up in a fight, remember? Back at the coffee shop when we hung out after work?”

“Well, fighting is at least something to do, isn’t it?” Arthur remarked. And Alfred couldn’t help but actually crack a smile at that.

“That’s true.”

It’s at this moment that Arthur was seen moving again, turning to meet Alfred’s face as he shifted in his lain position to look at him. Alfred just pulled his feet up, looking at Arthur curiously.
“... so,” Arthur began first. “What’s been going on with your life?” 

“Not a whole lot,” Alfred admitted, leaning his head on the side with the cushion. “Organizing my teaching schedule. Playing video games. Sitting around.”

Arthur crinkled his nose. “And eating at McDonald’s?” 

“Well, not so much. I haven’t been feeling like leaving the house lately. Hard to when all the budget cuts keep happening and all your colleagues move away from you. Friends are hard to make.”

“I didn’t take you for the type to be avoiding the opportunity being social. Why?”

Alfred averted his gaze, staring at the blank television. “I just haven’t been in the mood. Do I need to have a reason?”

“Rationally,” Arthur was heard shuffling in his seat. “But I mean. Me myself as a bit of an introvert, I can’t necessarily condone you for wanting time to yourself. I would much rather spend the time reading on weekends than attempting to find a teaching job.”

“Well, reading makes you a lot smarter and all that jazz, so I don’t really think it’s a waste of time.”

Arthur yawned. “Perhaps.”
“Sleepy?”

“A little. I’m still cold.”

“Still??” Alfred sat up. “Well, I don’t know how many blankets you need, Art. But...” his eyes went to the fireplace. And in a few minutes went to collect some paper and a lighter.

Arthur, sensing what Alfred was doing, eyed the man around the pace of the room. And when Arthur noticed the fire, he began to stare at it. Alfred blew onto it, starting it enough to begin a flame. Arthur got up, going over to the fire and sitting on the rugged floor. And Alfred went to sit down next to him, staring at it. And after a while, the flame built itself up to get larger, warmer.

“It’s really cozy,” Arthur mentioned, keeping his gaze on the light. But not before giving Alfred a look.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Let’s go find you a job tomorrow, okay?”

“You don’t have to do that, you know.”

“Hey,” Alfred gave him a serious look. “You’re staying at my house so my rules.” Arthur couldn’t help but feel himself smile at that. “... you’re too good for your own good, you know that.”

“So, I’ve been told. But I heard downtown, they opened up a new elementary school. Wanna go check that out?”

“Maybe,” Arthur sniffled as he rubbed his nose. The congestion was starting.

“Though, I’m not good with kids.”

“Kids are a lot better to handle. At least they act their age. It’s more frustrating to deal with adults acting like kids in a college classroom.”

Arthur laughed. “Honestly.”

Alfred smiled back, eventually giving Arthur a light punch to his shoulder. Arthur stayed smiling now. 

“I’m here for you, dude.” 

“I’m very grateful for it. Thank you.” 

“But also, if the power doesn’t come back on by the morning, I’ll blame you for taking all the hot water in the shower.”

"No," he says, and he can hear the smile in his voice. He couldn't stop it if he tried. "I just...you're really cute."

Lukas flushes an even darker shade of red. "Shut up," he mutters. "I'm not. You're just trying to embarrass me."

"Of course I'm not!" (Although perhaps he is, if only a little. It's just that Lukas looks so cute when he's flustered.).

"You are." But Lukas doesn't sound annoyed, just sort of shy and pouty and utterly adorable. Matthias holds out his arms, and Lukas rolls his eyes but climbs into them, clambering into Matthias' lap and snuggling into his chest like a cat. Matthias wraps his arms around him and holds him close, feeling his steady warmth through the thick, soft fabric of his stolen hoodie, and breathes in his comforting baking-and-cinnamon scent.

I love you, he thinks, but he doesn't say it, because he doesn't need to. They know each other better than that by now. Instead, he just holds Lukas closer in his arms and savours this moment, this embrace where time stands still and they are everything.

"Koselig?" He asks into the silky nest of Lukas' hair. Lukas lifts his head from his shoulder for a second to smile at him, small and bright and genuine.

"Koselig."

Mei was as beautiful as ever, her dark hair tumbling down her shoulders, sticking up messily around the thick scarf she had wrapped around her neck. It was chilly out and she was sticking half of her face into the scarf to keep warm, a to-go cup of coffee in each hand.

Ever one to trade comfort for style, Mei swung her tight clad legs from the ledge she sat at the edge of the crowd, causing her skirt to flutter. She had on a sweater, one that looked warm, but Lien was grateful she'd remembered to layer. Her overcoat should be thick enough to keep Mei warm when she found an opportunity to hand it over.

At the thought, butterflies filled Lien’s stomach and she gasped, remembering to breathe. She looked away, taking a moment to regulate her breathing, before turning back and walking forward.

It should have been like any other date, but Lien was still nervous. She felt like every step shook, like turning and bolting immediately.

But she forced herself to walk up to her girlfriend, who looked up, having noticed, and revealing an emerging smile from behind her scarf. Mei stood and her grin widened ever further as Lien approached, causing Lien to turn more and more red.

“Lien! You made it!” Mei exclaimed. As if I'd miss this for the world.

“Yeah,” she replied, giving a small wave. She really wished she could give a smile in return, but she was so out of practice. Best not to push it.

“Here, I got you this,” Mei handed over one of the mugs and Lien thanked her, bringing the cup forward to sniff at. It smelled like nutmeg and cinnamon. “It's a festival special, apparently. The cafe over there sells them.”

Lien nodded, taking a small sip and humming. Mei seemed to take that as appreciation and smiled again, that lovely lovely smile, and took Lien’s hand, dragging her toward the entrance booth. Lien’s stomach once again exploded into flutters.

Once they'd gotten into the festival, Mei guided them along the booths, most of which were strange DIY sellers or food stands. They’d had to let go of each other's hands to put on the ticket bracelets, but Mei had linked them again at the first booth they'd come to, excitedly pointing out something to Lien and leaning into her shoulder.

As they passed from booth to booth, the festival slowly got more packed, causing them to have to stick together at the hip, lest they get separated. This made Lien nervous, but seemed to make Mei all the more confident, who was sending Lien smirks and using the chance to tilt their heads close when she had something to say.

They stopped at one stall that sold Halloween decorations where Mei insisted they try on masks, and they smelled so many candles at another booth that Lien was convinced her olfactory glands would never return to a normal state. They stopped at a booth that sold pastries and, as Mei scrunched her nose, peering up at the menu, Lien knelt down and picked up a bright red leaf which she tucked behind Mei’s ear, earning a beautiful look of surprise and a delicate touch to the spot the leaf now nestled.

Lien was finally beginning to settle down, forgetting her nerves and butterflies. Then, Mei shivered just so and she remembered the heavy coat around her.

The coat she had brought in case Mei was cold. Which she was. Right now.

Suddenly, the butterflies were back, nerves tingling all the way down to Lien’s fingertips. Mei continued to pull her along, stopping by a booth that sold candy apples. For a moment, Mei let go of Lien’s hand to step forward.

Lien held her breath and slipped her coat off before she could think twice.

“Lien, do you like candy or caramel apples better? Kiku likes caramel better and Yao always gets so angry about it. It’s actually really funny. Kiku has such a poker face, but I know he’s just saying it to get on Yao’s nerves-”

When Mei cut off was the moment Lien had stepped forward, stealing her nerves, and drapped the coat over her girlfriend’s shoulders. Mei looked up, that same look of surprise in her black eyes as when Lien had put the leaf in her hair. She looked down at her shoulders, now covered and warm, and Lien froze.

What if Mei hadn’t wanted her coat? Was it too much? Was she not actually cold? Was the coat too big - it was rather long-

“Thank you,” Mei said, and she linked their hands once more. Standing up on her tip-toes, she placed a kiss to Lien’s cheek, before turning back to the apples. She put her arms through the sleeves and gathered the coat around her, pressing their joined hands in the tiny space between them.

“I like candy apples,” Lien said, turning to look at the apples too, hoping Mei wouldn’t look her way anytime soon, lest she see how red in the face she’d gotten.

Mei jumped on the balls of her feet, then pulled them forward to ask for two. Lien stood just behind her, nerves a little more calm.

Johan was almost finished putting the freshly cleaned dishes back in the cupboards when he heard a shuffling sound behind him.

Turning around he, he found his still half asleep brother standing in the doorway.

“What are you doing, big brother?” he younger man asked as he tried, and failed, to stifle a yawn.

“Nothing, Lux. Get back under that quilt and get some sleep.” Was his response, muttered as softly and gently as he could manage.

It was probably thanks to Henri being tired that he turned around without an further questions or comments and walked back down the hall.

When the oldest of the three siblings returned to the room after finishing cleaning up, he found Emma and Henri sound asleep.

He probably should carry them to their beds. Sleeping like that wasn’t exactly great on their backs or necks.

Yet looking at them sleeping peacefully, he felt how tired he was himself. He should also go to his bed.

What he did instead was reclaim his place between them, readjusting the quilt to properly cover all three of them and before he knew it, the Dutch nation was asleep himself.

When the sunlight hitting his face awoke him the next morning, the Netherlands found himself alone on the couch.

Sitting up a little straighter, he noticed a plate with waffles and a cup of what appeared to be still hot coffee on the table in front of him.

When he looked out of the window, he saw Belgium and Luxembourg standing in his sister’s yard.

He put the quilt aside, and started on his breakfast.

He would fold the quilt before he went outside to greet them.

Johan - Netherlands

Emma - Belgium

Henri - Luxembourg

Stel niet uit tot morgen, wat je vandaag kunt doen - Dutch saying that pretty much means ‘don’t postpone’

A/N: I... put two concepts into one story again -- I'm SORRY it's just very addicting to try and put them all together because it forces me to try and creatively shove them together. I hope it's not too clunky though... I've not actually posted any stories online with Feliciano or Lovino. Not yet anyway. It's not meant to be anything hard to look into, actually, so don't look too hard into this story.

##

Lovino was the relative in the family that no one particularly liked to visit. And wasn’t because he was crude: this was a misconception developed from the in-laws of the family who wanted to steal some of the family’s rich heritage. Rather, Lovino was just a different kind of Vargas. Or at least, Feliciano liked to think that his brother was.

Lovino liked to spend a lot of his days alone too and occupied the spare room of Feliciano’s paint studio when he came back from a long day from working at the pastry shop. Feliciano had given the space to him out of sympathy, as no one else in his family seemed to put an effort into knowing his brother beyond just his strange behaviors. Except for him and his Grandfather of course, but Romulus had passed away some time ago, leaving only Feliciano to be the sole caretaker of his brother.

Calloused hands and flour dusted fingers from folding dough and wheat did nothing to dissuade Lovino from coming over in the evenings to continue his work in his project room. Lovino always mentioned finishing the same painting that he started two months ago and had never let Feliciano see it since he bought his brother the easel.

Now, Lovino was one of the best water color artists that Feliciano had ever know. It deviated a lot with his own style, but not in a bad way. Feliciano often liked the crispness of oil-based paints in its raw form upon a canvas while Lovino once told him that he enjoyed the medium of water because he felt the transparency of the paint reflect a sort of ‘ambiguity’. He liked an image of a color that wasn’t quite solid and wasn’t too minimalist either, which made Feliciano very empathetic to his art pieces most of the time.

Lovino was a schizophrenic, part-time freelance artist.

It wasn’t a very pretty title, but it was because of this stigma that Lovino often told people of his condition first, like a warning, before accepting any commissions from any eager client. Lovino didn’t enjoy the idea of people giving him sympathy and especially disliked being compared to van Gogh in any way, shape or form.

Rather, he preferred patrons that were honest with him. And it was a trait that Feliciano envied; having interactions between others without that sense of superficiality to it.

Lovino was more grounded to the realities of people more than Feliciano ever was. And that, alone, was the reason why Feliciano loved his brother dearly. And the same reason why he had even given him the room in the first place.

Though, just because Lovino got commissions didn’t mean that he received a lot of them. The man would often burst into Feliciano’s small business building without a word and retreat his secret sanctuary in silence. But Feliciano never minded it; his brother’s business was his own.

That was, until one day Feliciano heard his brother talking alone inside of his room one night after washing all of his brushes. Feliciano had planned to leave early, as he had a scheduled 8:30 AM appointment with his next model soon. But the sounds of his brother speaking was what drawn him to stop and listen.

“Hang on,” Lovino was heard groaning on the other side of the door. “I’ll finish this part soon. Stop giving me that look, won’t you? It’s intimidating, and you’ll make me rush it.”

Feliciano quietly set his used brushes from earlier that day into a bucket nearby. And, watching his feet to ensure he did not step on anything, Feliciano leaned against the thin white door to eavesdrop.

“Yes, Toni. I know you like red. But I’ve already painted enough leaves around you. Any more of them and I’m sure you’ll look like you’re in front of a volcano!”

Feliciano bit his lip. A quick suspicion made Feliciano assume that Lovino snuck a male model into the room. But looking at the base of the door, he saw some movement of shadows.

But he could not distinguish if this was his brother’s movements or not.

“There. See?” Lovino murmured. “It was the green that was missing. Not the red. Red wouldn’t make much sense to add on to you. It’s like wearing a red shirt, red pants, red shoes and red socks: it doesn’t match.”

Feliciano moved away from the door now, perhaps realizing that Lovino wasn’t quite... himself. Lovino often had episodes of these, but ever since he had been on medication, he hadn’t fallen into the habit of babbling to himself until now. 

But he didn’t want to be too straightforward with Lovino either. Pointing out his strange behavior would only strain their relationship as his only caring family relative and the last thing Feliciano wanted to do was to make his brother annoyed with him because wasn’t caring enough to shut up appropriately.

Choosing instead to promptly ignore the conversation in the other room, Feliciano began pack his things, set his coat on and retreat home to sleep. He and Lovino did not live in the same places, so he was never really sure about what time his brother went home.

But as Feliciano attempted to sleep, he couldn’t help but start to wonder about Lovino again. The way he talked behind that door and the emotion in Lovino’s voice that really almost sounded like he was speaking to his painting... the curiosity had burrowed itself into Feliciano’s brain enough to the point of making him unable to sleep. And months of secrecy on Lovino’s end was enough to draw Feliciano back into his car and drive right back to the studio.

It was just quarter past two in the morning when Feliciano arrived, fall air breezing through his hair. His keys clinked as he opened the door, and he turned the lights on, immediately heading for the forbidden room.

He swung the door open gently, turning on the lights.

The room was an absolute chaotic mess, as if someone had ransacked the place. It scared Feliciano a minute to think that the perpetrator would be somewhere nearby, but Feliciano did a quick sweep around the perimeter of the room.

No one.

The only object that was the most preserved in the mess was an easel and canvas in the center of the room, draped by a tattered blanket.

Feliciano frowned, feeling his chest compress. He felt like was violating his brother’s trust by peeking into his personal work. It wasn’t as if he was planning to do anything bad, right? Just looking.

Feliciano took a breath, going up to the painting and removing the cloth.

It was the portrait of a man that Feliciano had never seen before. The paint that was included in the picture was layered upon each other, blending a lot more smoothly into indescribable mixes of color; the paint’s opacity made it a hard to tell the difference if the color was in between red, yellow or green. The brush strokes that framed the man’s clothing were cleverly blended with the darker colors to contour the light more to the man’s chest, rather than the shoulders and overcoat. It curved at the exact angles that highlighted the physique under the painting’s clothing, and it caused Feliciano to realize that he had been holding his breath when he finished examining it.

Lovino really did pull reality from his imagination. The only thing that made the painting appear unrealistic was the white edges of the unfinished background and unpainted pencil-etched leaves. The picture was meant to fully depict a Spaniard of the 1600’s in the middle of the fall leaves, posing right before his voyage over the Atlantic. The portrait man gazed back at Feliciano, looking soft in his features but held a sense of power behind his gaze. The eyes were a piercing green, and it made Feliciano feel like he was being watched. They also looked like they were following him when he moved around even more, causing Feliciano to be completely unsettled by the eye movement. It was enough to make Feliciano want to leave.

It’s then that Feliciano grabbed the cloth, pulling it over the painting’s gaze as he retreated out back to the parking lot, heart beating from almost practically sprinting out of the building. He locked the door twice for good measure and checked it before starting his car.

##

The next morning hadn’t been too unusual after that. Feliciano had fought the evening’s events out of his brain when his patron showed up; a man who looked entirely ready for his own portrait by dressing in outrageous clothing. Feliciano could deal with outrageous.

He had spent the day avoiding the room when he was doing his own work and waited patiently for his brother to return after work.

Eventually, Lovino did come through the door. But not before Feliciano stopped him. His model had long gone at that point, giving Feliciano more time to speak to him.

“Fratello,” he called to his brother, causing Lovino to turn his head to him with tired attentiveness. “What are you painting in that room? I’ve always been meaning to ask.”

Lovino gave Feliciano an incredulous expression. But not before just sighing. “I’m actually almost done with it anyway. I suppose you could look at it.”

Feliciano practically jumped at this opportunity to be with his brother, dropping his palette onto a nearby table as he grabbed a towel to wipe his hands off on the way to follow Lovino back into the room.

But by the time his brother had opened the door, he felt himself freeze.

The room was practically spotless. Or at least, there wasn’t a place out of order like it had been last night. It looked as if someone had cleaned it, though Feliciano was 400% sure he had locked the door that evening and had not touched anything else in the room. Especially after seeing the gaze of that frightening man under the blanket on the canvas. He couldn’t stay after that!

When Lovino uncovered the painting, Feliciano had to bite his tongue.

The man that had stared at him last night was turned away from the viewer’s perspective, head turning to look back at the autumn scenery behind him. It caused Feliciano to rub his eyes, trying to understand how his brain was playing tricks on him.

He can’t have just imagined last night all on his own. Could he?

“Like it?” Lovino said, having not noticed Feliciano at all since he had also been staring at his own work and criticizing it himself. “It’s... not quite there yet. I’m missing a lot of the edges and leaves. But I think one more week would finally get this done.”

“W-Who is that?” Feliciano fought his voice to remain calm as possible, which clearly wasn’t working too well. “In the picture?”

“Someone I keep running into in my dreams,” Lovino sighed. “You know. Those dreams.”

Feliciano turned his gaze back to Lovino, who now appeared much quieter and more reserved after admitting that clause. Feliciano frowned at that. Lovino was trying to hide his hallucinations again. And fighting the urge to reveal the reason behind his own state of panic, Feliciano noticed that he began to say something else as well.

“I’m jealous, Lovino,” Feliciano replied. “I don’t think I’ve ever been able to really... do the same as you when it comes to painting in water color. It’s strange because it looks so real. Like it can move on its own.”

Lovino laughed at that. “You’re the only one who can see the reality of everything, Feli. I’ll admit it; sometimes I see the painting move all the time. And I think I can say that this one of my best works.” Lovino felt his smile soften when he stared at his masterpiece. “Antonio. That’s what I call it. It’s a name in Spanish that means something of value and praise.”

“I... didn’t take you for the type to be researching on name meanings, Lovi.”

“Shut up. Just because the names of your pieces are long doesn’t mean that mine have to be.”

Feliciano relaxed at that. “It’s beautiful, fratello.”

“It’s not finished yet,” Lovino murmured. “I’ll get it done soon. But I’d like to be alone, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” Feliciano went to the door, letting him the space. And with a smile, he closed the door again.

But the second the door clicked shut, Feliciano’s expression that he had been keeping up had dropped. And fear poured into his heart as he dared to open the door once more.

“Lovino?”

The room was empty, with a gust of wind blowing into the room with the faintest smell of wet grass and undergrowth.

Feliciano stared at the picture that was revealed to him.

There, amid all of the colors of the fall within the canvas, was Lovino. And next to him was the man he had seen in the piercing green eyes, smiling right at Feliciano as he had an arm around his shoulders.