In a certain town, on a certain street corner... just a block from busy Main st. is the Vargas & Vargas funeral home.

"And'a this is the main room where the reception will be held."

The small, fair-headed woman listened tearfully as she rubbed at her red rimmed eyes. She glanced around the quietly elegant room with a vacant look. "It looks beautiful."

Noticing her expression, Feliciano with an innocent gesture reached over and lightly wiped the woman's watery eyes, "Grazie, but you should say that after you've looked at it properly."

He smiled as the woman jolted and then relaxed at his light touch. "uhh...thank you Mr. Vargas."

Handing her a handkerchief to wipe her, Feliciano was gently leading her through the rest of the tour when a voice interrupted him.

" Ciao, fratello."

Turning around, Feliciano smiled at the sight of his fratello casually slumped against the basement door frame as he wiped his hands on his clean apron. Lovino was watching with a bored expression as Feliciano directed the client's wife, and shook his hands to rid himself of the last droplets of water. He was happily startled when Feliciano suddenly bound his way over and embraced him.

"Fratello~ ciao."

Lovino hesitantly returned the hug. " What do you want, Feli?"

Smiling, Feliciano burrowed his face into Lovino's shoulder, but grimaced at the sharp scent of embalming fluids lightly floating up from his brother's body," I just wanted to hug my fratello~...but yuck, you smell awful."

Lovino scowled as he bonked his brother upside the head, "I work with embalming fluids, of course I don't smell like f*cking flowers."

This was an understatement to say the least.

Lovino's duty handling the bodies meant he was responsible for embalming and cremating the clients (it depended on what the family wanted). His days were spent in the basement, surrounded by lifeless forms, working with the dead. His slender hands were kept soft by the slippery embalming fluids he gently rubbed into the flesh of deceased and his wrists were always tingled red by the heat of the furnace which burned the clients to airy ashes. But the most obvious clue to his occupation had to be the sickly scent of roses and death that constantly enveloped him. And no matter how many times he showered or how hard he scrubbed his skin to a puckered red, the scent always lingered in his presence.

Feliciano, on the other hand, dealt with the living. His role was to arrange the funerals, to comfort the distressed, and to ease the transition of the loss. He always met the client's family with a bright smile and a cheery 'Ciao' just like his nonno had taught him. The tearful relatives seemed to be at ease with the young italian man and discussed funeral details with him in relative fluidity. Then with all the skill of a Renaissance man, Feliciano went about with the decorations, the bouquets and buying of the coffin (if the family had not already chose one). Although nothing made him feel more alive when people left his funerals with a sense of closure, it still gave him a certain wistful, melancholy feeling whenever a funeral ended. After all, he didn't have anyone who stuck around for long, besides his fratello. And who could blame them, Feliciano's heart was tied to to his home, a funeral home but nevertheless a home. No one wanted to linger at a limbo where the dead were lifeless but still existed.

Feliciano then remember the lady he was suppose to be guiding. He let go of his brother's warm body and walked back to the woman. "I'm'a so sorry bella. I didn't finish our tour did I?" Then with a gentle hand on her elbow, Feliciano led her through the viewing room and escorted her to her car, promising he'll take care of the details to save her some burden.

Sending her off with a goodbye, Feliciano smiled as he made his way back to the large, Roman styled house; the first few drops of rain falling from the stormy sky.

"Bruder is this the house?

Ludwig spoke as he adjusted his grip on the plastic umbrella in his palm. The rain fell around him, creating soft pitter patter noises.

A callous voice replied,"Ja, at least that's the address vati gave us."

Gilbert looked back and forth from the large sign in front of the enormous white house and the worn piece of paper in his hands. Pocketing the paper, Gilbert smiled as he knocked on the house's heavy oak doors.

This was their place.

Yay! I wrote something!~~

I actually live near a funeral home and it's kinda creepy passing it everyday on my way to the bus stop. I swear I saw a pair of limbs hanging off a gurne at some point. Anyways, I'm hoping for this to be a series, but my inspiration might not hold up.

SO you all need to REVIEW POR FAVOR!~~~