I don't own anything

"I love you."

There was a moment of silence before the other realized what had been said.

"W-What?"

"I said I-"

"Don't repeat it! I know what you said, but..."

Blue eyes looked away, disgust reflecting them. Hazel eyes widened, realizing his love was unrequited. The boy swallowed thickly, unsure of what to say next. The blue eyed boy set his gaze away from him, gritting his teeth and swearing under his breath. Pain made his heart cringe, and the Hazel eyes started to water.

"L-Ludwig?" He asked softly, reaching out.

"Don't touch me!"

The blonde swung his arm in defense, resulting in a brutal facial attack. The Italian boy stumbled sideways a few steps, cupping his cheek when he regained balance.

"Ludwig..."

"Don't. Don't say my name. I don't want you dirtying it."

The words were spat out like they were filth. Each vowel drenched with venom and disgust. Tears pooled in those hazel eyes at the displayed emotion, but didn't fall. Fingers curled into a trembling fist, pressing against the side of his thigh as the other hand remained on the swelling cheek.

"S-Sorry..."

It was the only thing he could manage to say before leaving the blonde, standing alone under the Willow.

Ludwig made sure he didn't come in contact with the other the next day, and it seemed like Feliciano was staying out of Ludwig's way for him too. Even so, he caught sight of him in the library, a large piece of white gauze taped to his face. Oddly enough, there wasn't much questioning about it.

"He probably got scratched by a cat or something." Someone said. It was followed by chortles and comments about 'how silly the Italian boy could be sometimes.'

After three days of the Italian not saying anything to the German, people began to ponder.

He really wasn't looking for anything specific, but it was his free period, and he could use a book to read. The shelves were packed with books, each one coated in its own layer of dust. The Italian boy crinkled his nose at this.

'These must've been here for... forever or something.'

He kept going, walking past the shelves, not really looking, but reading titles just to keep his mind occupied.

Occupied. He needed to keep himself occupied.

He suddenly stopped at the fourth shelf and looked at the Title of one particular book: "Script: Ein Lied v n Liebe und Tod".

"Is there something bothering you?"

The boy gave a sort of a scream as he jumped out of his skin. Turning around, he found himself looking into deep, brown eyes, and instantly a smile appeared on his face.

"Kiku~! How are you?" He inquired happily. The Japanese looked at him for a moment before reaching up to cup the hidden cheek gently. Feliciano flinched rather violently at the soft touch.

"K-Kiku, please don't do that." He said in a weak voice. The other didn't move at all, but stared at him with a strong gaze for a moment longer. Finally, he said:

"It's not a scratch is it?"

The rosy colour of his cheeks went away, leaving his face pale. This was enough to confirm something in Kiku's head.

"Feliciano, if there's something you want to address, please, feel safe to tell me." He said, his voice set low so it only reached his ears.

"I've known you since our first year here, and if there's something you need to talk about, I'm always here."

Hazel eyes closed and hands fisted.

"I know, I'll tell you if I can't bear it." He said. Then the smile came back.

"But thanks for worrying about me Kiku." He said before leaning in and kissing the boy's cheek gently.

"I'll see you tomorrow!"

The other could only stutter as he turned red and watched the Italian boy retreat.

"He's been acting quiet strangely..."

"Hn."

"I'm becoming a bit worried about him."

"Hn."

Kiku looked at the blonde. "You aren't worried?"

"Why should I be?" He asked, scoffing slightly at the end of his sentence.

"Because he's our friend Ludwig."

There was no answer to that statement, but the German continued to write down the answers for his homework. The other merely gave a sigh.

"You know, I've noticed that right after Feliciano asked to talk to you in private, you haven't been near him at all. Not to mention that he's had that gauze on his cheek right after the day you two last spoke."

Kiku turned to the blonde again, who had stopped writing but didn't dare look up.

"Ludwig, is there something going on?"

"...Nothing's going on."

And as if on cue, three knocks prodded against the door before it opened, revealing the Italian boy.

"Kiku, I need help with-"

Blue eyes met with Hazel, but the blue weren't strong enough to withhold the gaze. Silence filed into the room and piled around like an awkward audience. Feliciano stared at the blonde with a blank facial expression before his lips melted into a soft smile.

"Ludwig... Hi, I haven't seen you around. How've you been?" Feliciano asked cheerily. Kiku's eyebrows went up at this. Ludwig gave no reply, but merely twiddled his pen between his fingers.

"Anyway, Kiku, I was wondering if you could help me later. I'm having a lot of trouble with this problem, and Francis is too busy flirting to help."

A smiled graced the Japanese student's lips. "Of course, I'll come by your house later in the evening."

"M'kay, see you later Kiku, and you too Ludwig~."

The door closed shut, leaving the two alone again.

There were no tears.

No sobs.

No cries of pain.

Not much of anything really. Instead, he only watched with a smile as it poured out.

It was thicker than he expected. Thick and warm. Almost like warm Olive oil.

The floor began to slip out from under him, and his sight blurred, but the smile on his face never left. It conintued to come out, decorating the floor with its rich colour whilst it filled the air with its lovey scent. His feet tripped over each other when he moved them, having him fall face first. He would cry and squirm in any other situation, but for some reason he didn't move this time, nor did he say a word on this occasion. Maybe he did it a little too deep? Oh well, at least the hurting in his chest was numbing, and at least his mind was hazy enough so he didn't have to think about the pain.

No. There was no more pain to think about. No more mourning to cloud his mind.

This would make him happy. He could finally make Ludwig smile again.

No regrets have been made.

Feet scraped against the pavement before it stopped in front of a certain door. The figure rang the chimes, but there was no answer.

"Feliciano?"

No answer.

Brows furrowed in confusion. The boy knew of his arrival, but no answer, which was out of the ordinary. Taking in a deep breath, he reached forward and took the knob, twisting it. Oddly enough, it was unlocked.

Feliciano was a lax boy, but he would never leave his front door unlocked.

Ever.

Ringing the doorbell again just in case, the figure waited for a few more moments. Still no answer.

Something was wrong.

Not bothering to take his shoes off he let himself in, finding the living room empty.

"Feliciano?" He called again. No answer. Walking up the landing, he couldn't help but gag when a metallic scent hit his nose.

That's when something clicked in hsi head.

"No..."

Legs hastened their movements.

"No..."

Footsteps grew louder.

"Please no..."

Eyes widened in horror as it looked at the limp figure in front of him.

He had been too late.

"Why am I going?"

His gaurdian looked at him with surprised eyes.

"Aren't you his friend?"

"I... hn."

The other didn't say anything, but motioned him to get in the car.

It was a silent trip. His grandfather didn't say anything, and there was no music humming in the background.

Why did he have to go to a gay student's funeral?

The sky was an everlasting blue above his head. The grass green when he stepped out and into the cemetary. The wind blew and whispered soft nothings into his ear as it passed, combing through his hair before leaving. It was such a nice day today. Nearly everyone was there. Solemn faces and tear drenched expressions lined up in a circle around the open grave. Didn't they know he was gay?

"-And thus, we lay him in eternal rest, where he is to find utmost freedom to his hearts' content." The priest said, closing the leather bound bible.

Flowers were thrown, all except by the German who stood back, the scowl permanent on his face.

"Ludwig?"

He turned around, only to see a man he knew of not. But the man seemed to know him, and he broke out into a smile and walked over to him.

"It's great to see you again, how are you?"

"Uh..."

How was he supposed to react?

"It's a shame really, my grandson was a fine boy." The other went on, not noting the puzzled look on the German's face. "You used to play with him during Pre-K."

"...Excuse me, but who are you?"

The other looked at him with a surprised expression, but broke out into slight laughter.

"I'm Roma, remember? You and Feliciano used to play together."

"... I met him for the first time in Freshmen year."

A chortle was followed.

"Well, I guess it's not really your fault if you can't remember. But you got along so well with him back then... Oh wait, I think I have a picture of the two of you in my wallet."

Ludwig really wanted to dismiss himself and go back home, but it would be rude to do that to a man whose (gay) grandson just died.

Roma fished out his wallet and flipped through a few flaps, before beaming down at one of them and showing it to the other.

"See? This is you, right?"

Blue eyes widened as they stared down at the photograph.

It was him. Holding another girl in his arms in a childish way. Hazel eyes of the girl reflected happiness as a small mouth was upturned in a smile with nut brown locks cupping her face.

"He used to dress up as a girl back then... huh, everyone thought he was a girl for some reason. I guess it was my mistake for letting that Austrian take care of him. That Hungarian girl too, she seemed to like dressing Feliciano up in girl clothes."

The words weren't making sense in Ludwig's head. He could only look at the photo while memories of him and the girl flashed in front of his eyes. The chasing, the painting, the kissing...

And in that one moment, the world had gone against him.

The girl he fell in love with, and still was, had been the boy who confessed his love for him under the Weeping Willow that day.

It made sense. The only reason why he put up with the Italian was beause he reminded him too much of that girl. The girl whom he promised that he would come back.

"It's a shame he did a deed like that. Kiku, one of his friends, found him just as he passed away. Poor Asian, seemed quite attatched to him as well."

Roma's words were coming in and out of focus, seeming to echo and fade. The man comtinued to ramble, but Ludwig managed to swallow thickly before gathering the courage to ask:

"...Please, tell me how he died."

"Oh? You didn't hear? He was found on the floor. The cut on his wrist was pretty deep too, and the blood... Hm, that's going to take some time to clean up. I mean, it's already cleaned up, but you know what I mean."

Roma continued on like this for another minute before thanking Ludwig for coming and leaving. A tap on his shoulder made him turn around, only to face Kiku. He looked at him with an empty gaze, and the blonde could only look away.

"... Hello."

"..."

"Um, just before he died, he told me to give you this." He said, handing the German a folded piece of parchment. Ludwig nodded and took it without saying anything.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"..."

The other turned and left, and Ludwig was left holding the paper, standing all alone. He pocketed the note and went over to the car where his grandfather was waiting.

"...Do you know someone called Roma?" Ludwig asked, looking at his Grandfather's eyes.

"...Roma Antiqua?"

"Mm."

"Yes... he's the grandfather of the one who died today."

They shuffled into the car as they spoke.

"...He said I used to visit him when we were younger."

"You two were close. A bit too close, but I think that's resolved."

Something seemed to snap in the younger one, but he didn't say a word.

His hand went into his pocket and took out the folded note. He should at least know what Feliciano wanted to tell him before he died. Opening it, his eyes scanned it before they closed. Pain seared through his chest, and he could only sit there and let it throb.

In neat tilted handwriting, unmistakeably Feliciano's, the single line of his last words sat on the page:

I wish you had kept your promise.