House of Cards

While running, Antonio was holding his nose and trying to stop the blood flow. His nasal bone was throbbing from pain, but not enough to dull his thoughts nor the insults he was dedicating to himself. Idiot! He was nothing but a huge idiot, not able to bear his own emotions and acting like a teenager even despite knowing about the risks, being fully aware that he could get fired and even into legal trouble for getting involved with a minor... but... if only Lovino hadn't said these things! If that stupid Lovino wasn't despising himself like that, putting himself down all the time, constantly comparing himself to Feliciano!... If only he hadn't fallen in love with Lovino... and hadn't had such a desperate desire to let him see that there was someone in that world who was dedicating every single breath to him. The Spaniard closed his eyes tightly and squeezed his hurt nose on purpose to make the pain greater than the one in his chest. Now the only thing he could do was wait, wait and pray that Lovino wouldn't tell anyone about it. He was more than sure that the Italian hated him now... how dumb of him to lose the little contact he had to the boy just because of a tantrum worthy of a small child. Antonio noticed that even his clothes had blood drops on them, so he hurried to the bathroom to at least try to wipe off the blood that was dripping down his chin and through his fingers. Suddenly, someone tugged at him by his shirt from behind, and he turned around, almost expecting to meet the Italian... but it was Francis. "Oh my, what happened to you?" the latter asked, scared, as he spotted the blood and removed Antonio's hand from his face to have a better look. "Nothing... just a mishap," the Spaniard replied and tried to resume his path, but the king grabbed his face in order to examine his nose. Luckily, it wasn't broken, but it had been close. "What kind of mishap could leave you with your face looking like that?" he scolded Antonio and led him to the bathroom, where he took a towel and soaked it in water to clean the already dried blood off the other's face. Antonio hesitated a bit, but then succumbed to his own emotions. "Fran... I'm an idiot," he complained. Francis wasn't really surprised and let him speak. "I don't know what happened... there I was arguing with Lovino and suddenly started kissing him," Antonio said, as though his brain wasn't able to process all this yet, confused for not understanding why the hell he had reacted like that.  Francis sighed and continued his task, knowing that the other hadn't finished his story yet. "What should I do, Francis? I don't think I could make it right anymore, this time I really screwed up... everything was alright, but then, before I could even notice it, I've already ruined it all. Getting angry was enough for me to throw everything to hell." The Spaniard dropped his shoulders and bent his back more and more with every word he said. "Ah... Antonio, you did not do anything wrong, you just could not bear your feelings anymore... these treacherous feelings change sides: one day, they cooperate with your reason, and another day with your heart, making you do stupid things," said the king, taking the towel from Antonio, who was staring at him with an expression similar to astonishment. "What is the matter, why are you looking at me like that?" inquired Francis, raising an eyebrow. The other came to his senses and straightened his back. "Nothing, it's just that you called me by my name." He showed a little smile. "That's the first time, usually you're always calling me 'young man'." Having heard this, Francis realized that it was true. He had indeed called a simple commoner by his name! The king cleared his throat, trying to hide his surprise, and looked away, pretending to rinse the towel in the sink. "There is nothing unusual about that, but if you prefer, I can keep calling you 'young man'," he said, evading his eyes. "Nope, I'd like you to call me by my name," replied Antonio. Now, the other turned back to him, leaning his hands against the sink. "And now? What are you planning to do with that boy who did that to you?" Francis changed the topic. Antonio's smile vanished from the mere mention of Lovino. "Well, nothing... what's done, is done... the only thing I can do is to not approach him ever again," he answered, covering his eyes, so that Francis couldn't see his pathetic face. "Alright, at least you did experience what it is like to kiss him," said the king after a long silence. The Spaniard let out a quiet, bitter laugh.  "That's true." And the two of them exchanged some kind of knowing smile, a joke during that hard time that perhaps wouldn't be that easy to overcome for Antonio, who preferred a thousand times to lock himself up in that bathroom forever to not face the consequences of his own actions. They stayed another while in there, until Antonio managed to gather enough courage to leave the room even with the danger of bumping into Lovino on his way. But to his luck he didn't, so he said goodbye to Francis who reminded him of his promise to bring him to Alfred. Antonio told him not to worry and went home. Francis watched him leave from the garden and then returned to the building, spotting Lovino's silhouette again, who was hurrying to the dormitories, so fast as if he was chased by someone. Unlike Antonio, the boy had his hand on his mouth and a distraught expression on his face. Francis snorted, shook his head and continued his way. He went upstairs and peeked into the room where Matthew was sleeping peacefully. A brief feeling of remorse invaded him as he started to wonder whether the child would take his return home as the king abandoning him... hopefully not. With these thoughts in mind he decided to go to sleep as well, a very important meeting would await him tomorrow, after all. The morning wasn't long in coming, and everyone started their daily routine. Apart from Lovino, whom nobody had seen. Many were saying that he had locked himself in the orphanage's abandoned chapel, and others didn't even care. Antonio did, of course: as soon as he arrived, he broke his own promise to stay away from the teenager and went to look for him in said chapel. Maybe because he was the only one who knew that boy for real and that the latter was always seeking shelter in the house of God when he had a problem or a worry plaguing him. Few people knew that side of Lovino, the one of the fervent Catholic who would rather go to confession than talk to someone else about the things bothering him. So without wasting any time and before even meeting with Francis, the Spaniard headed to the chapel and carefully peeked inside through the crack of the door decorated with mosaic glass windows. He managed to see the worn down crucified Christ at the foot of the altar and a few almost burned down candles that once had been as tall as Antonio himself. Lovino himself was on the kneeler with his hands folded and his eyes tightly closed, muttering something the Spaniard didn't manage to hear. Suddenly, the Italian opened his eyes and looked up to the crucifix hanging in front of him, watching it for a few seconds that turned into minutes as if waiting for an answer the immobile figure couldn't give. Antonio decided to not disturb him and left... yes, the best would be to not have any contact with the boy anymore unless it was absolutely necessary. How it should have been right from the beginning. So he turned his back to the chapel and walked through the yard, meeting some children who were running around, evading them listlessly. His body was feeling so heavy that even walking was hard... maybe this were the consequences of what had happened last evening, or of the fact that he hadn't slept the night due to all the thoughts tormenting him, all kinds of scenes created in his head where he was brutally rejected or even called a pervert by Lovino... but perhaps he was just exaggerating. Not really watching where he went, he then bumped into Francis, who was about to complain, but then saw that it was Antonio, looking like a walking corpse and muttering an apology. "For goodness sake, you look worse than last evening," the king criticized him, examining the dark circles under his eyes, his hair that was even more tousled than usual, the still hurt nose and of course that sad expression on his face. "How do you want me to look, then?" asked Antonio in a slurred voice that didn't have anything in common with his usually cheerful tone. Francis clicked his tongue. "I want you to look well, because I am not planning to show myself in front of Alfred in the company of a poor fellow, who seems to be taken straight out of a coffin," he complained, eyeing him from head to toe. "Alfred?" The Spaniard barely reacted to the name of Arthur's friend (or perhaps already more than just a friend). "Yes, remember that you promised me yesterday to bring me to him. It is urgent!" exclaimed Francis, irritated that Antonio had forgotten something as important as this. "Oh... yes, true, forgive me. Do you want to go right now? I don't want to be here today anyway, to be honest, I'll just invent some excuse for the principal," the other answered, scratching his neck tiredly and trying to not look at Francis, since he had the impression for a moment that the latter had dedicated him a disapproving look. Surely scolding him for today's attitude. "Of course, the sooner, the better," the king agreed with more enthusiasm than the Spaniard had expected. So he nodded, and the two of them started walking. But as they barely took a few steps, they saw little Matthew running up towards them, or rather escaping from someone. Francis looked behind the boy and spotted that young couple again, that friendly-looking couple that was watching Matthew with a kind, almost sickly sweet smile... or this was at least what the king thought when their gazes met and the other two greeted him with a movement of their heads. The woman lifted her hand slightly, a bit intimidated by the unpleasant look in Francis' eyes. "Hey, Matty, the Williams came to see you again, they seem to like you," said Antonio, trying to look cheerful in front of the child, who just took Francis by the hand and squeezed it tight, looking with something similar to fear at the Williams who said goodbye from a distance and left. The woman turned her head from time to time to the boy, smiling at him. The latter, however, seemed to want to disappear, since he hid behind Francis' back, making the king move his arm behind him, because Matt didn't let go of his hand. "Ah... well..." added the Spaniard, realizing that Matthew might not like that couple at all. "Are we going, Fran?" he asked the king, who snapped out of his thoughts and nodded. "Where are you going?" Matthew inquired. "To visit the King of Spades," Francis replied with his typical elegant smile. "I want to go, too!" exclaimed the little one, tugging at Francis' hand. The latter turned around to Antonio, who suddenly felt attacked by both their gazes. "But..." he wanted to object, but the child was faster. "Come on, Antonio, please! I have never left this place, but you can ask for permission to take me along. Come on, come on, please!" Matthew was begging him. He seemed absolutely determined to visit the other king despite already knowing him... or rather to make sure that Francis wouldn't leave together with that other king. Antonio tried to resist the pleas and the puppy eyes the boy and now even Francis were showing him. These cute looks didn't suit the king at all, by the way, but the Spaniard was weak. "Alright, alright! Just stop looking at me like that," he finally said after a while. Matt laughed and hugged him, before taking Francis' hand again. "A-Antonio..." he suddenly heard someone else call him and felt an emptiness in his stomach that was devouring his organs as he turned around and saw who it was. "Lovino..." he muttered in a barely audible voice, but as soon as he looked him in the eyes, he immediately averted his gaze. "Sorry, I'm in a hurry!" And walked away as fast as he could, almost running. Matthew and also Francis followed him. The king didn't say anything, just leaving the teenager behind, who opened his mouth, as though wanting to stop Antonio, but kept silent in the end and frowned, while watching him leave. "So you decided to flee," Francis commented as they were heading to the principal's office in order to ask for her permission to take Matthew along. "I'm not fleeing, just keeping a safe distance," Antonio answered. Francis didn't say anything to that, and Matthew looked from one adult to the other, without understanding what they were talking about. But to be honest he didn't really want to know, either. They were walking in an uncomfortable atmosphere until reaching the principal's office, where the poor woman also became a victim of Matthew's lethal doggy eyes and perhaps a bit of Francis' elegant talk, so she didn't have any other choice than to grant them her permission, however setting up a time for their return and asking them to keep silent about it, of course, so that the other kids didn't hear about Matthew getting permission to go out and want to do it as well. They left the orphanage, and Matthew and Francis both seemed excited to see all the things outside of the orphanage's walls. The three of them were walking on the streets. Antonio was keeping his head down, forcing himself to smile from time to time in order to make Matthew believe that he was fine, however, the boy didn't believe him at all and was already about to ask him what the matter was, but then they spotted the facade of Arthur's book store. An "open"-sign was hanging on the door glass, and they entered, with a little bell announcing their visit. "Welcome," came Arthur's voice from behind a bookshelf. He poked his head out and spotted Antonio, accompanied by Matt and a guy he didn't know. "Artie, I'm here to bother you again," said the Spaniard and wrapped him into one of his usual bear hugs which the store owner reluctantly accepted. "Yes, I already noticed," Arthur replied, freed himself and bent down a bit to welcome Matthew, who was walking towards him to greet him as well. "And? What can I do for you?" he inquired, watching Francis who was looking around with an obvious expression of displeasure and running his finger over the shelves to see how much dust was on them. "For me nothing, it's my friend Fran who needs something." Antonio now introduced the king, who approached Arthur and shot him an arrogant gaze. But before he could properly introduce himself, they heard hurried steps from the backroom. "Arthur, where should I put these?" Alfred asked, carrying a few books and walking to where the others were. He stopped as soon as he recognized Francis.  The two kings stared at each other for a few seconds with open mouths. "Francis," muttered the Majesty of Spades. "Alfred," said the one of Diamonds in the same hesitant tone. Another couple of moments passed with them eyeing one another, before they ran up for a hug, letting out relieved laughs. "Oh, Alfred, I never thought I would ever be happy to see you," Francis cruelly admitted, separating himself a bit from the younger king and palpating his face to make sure that it was really him. Then he gave him a kiss on each cheek out of sheer happiness. "Francis? How...? Why...? I'm so glad to see you!" The other hugged him again, after Francis had finished kissing him. Arthur, who didn't have a single clue what the hell was going on and why that guy was hugging Alfred with so much familiarity, loudly cleared his throat, with the full intention to interrupt the moment and remind the two of them that they weren't alone there. "Oh yes, Francis, come here and let me introduce you to Arthur. Arthur, this is Francis..." "The King of Diamonds," the latter added and stretched out his hand, expecting the store owner to kiss it. But Arthur just gave him a handshake. "Another king, huh... are you part of a role play community or something like that?" he asked Francis. "Excuse me, what do you mean?" "Don't mind him, he's sometimes saying weird things," said Alfred, receiving a slap on the arm from Arthur. "I see," replied Francis, looking with slight disdain at the latter, who didn't cease to shoot annoyed gazes at him, and finally decided to put his arm around Alfred's shoulders and pull him away from Arthur. "Come, Alfred, I need to speak with you in private," he said, starting to walk and leaving everyone else behind, Matt as well. The boy wanted to know what it was about, but Antonio didn't let him, saying that this was a conversation "between adults". "What's the matter?" asked the naive Alfred. The oldest king shot a sideways glance at the others who seemed to be talking about other things. "Who is this Arthur? Your queen? That was his name, wasn't it?" Francis started questioning the younger one, who put on a smile, trying to calm him down. "No, no, they just have the same name, that's all... Arthur is not my queen..." he said with a hint of sadness, dedicating a brief look at the store owner, who was chatting happily with Matthew. "Stay focused, Alfred, we are not from here and have a kingdom waiting for us," Francis reminded him. "I know that myself," replied Alfred, a bit annoyed by the other's tone. "Well, you do not look like it..." added the King of Diamonds and sighed, trying to relax his expression and also his voice, and crossing his arms. "Whatever, for now, our priority is to find Ivan and Ludwig. As far as I know, the Jack of Hearts is here as well, so Ludwig has to be with him. We just have to find out where Ivan is and catch those cynical jokers. One of them even dared to appear right in front of my nose... that ruffian," he grumbled between clenched teeth. The King of Spades decided to keep silent about the fact that he had happened to meet one as well, but hadn't done anything about it. "So that means..." Alfred began. "That once we have found them, we can return, yes," the second king finished his sentence. The younger one peeked at Arthur again, who seemed to have a discussion with Antonio. The separation now seemed so imminent to him that for a moment, he wished to just take Arthur and run away, so far that neither the other kings nor the jokers would ever find them... but he was the rightful King of Spades, whose own skin was reminding him of his duties and the reason he existed. So he could do things like these only in his dreams. "Fran, sorry for interrupting, but don't forget that we have a time limit," Antonio intervened, a bit nervous, because the two kings seemed to have a very serious discussion. "Wait a bit," Francis commanded sharply and returned his attention to Alfred. "We will stay in touch, Alfred. If you manage to find someone, you have to tell me immediately... do not wait until it is too late and you cannot see where you really belong anymore," he warned him, perhaps talking about his feelings for Arthur. Francis had always possessed that strange ability to decipher people: he had done it with Elizabetha and Roderich, with Feliciano, with Antonio and Lovino, and was now doing it with Alfred. Nothing could escape the King of Diamonds, who, ironically, hadn't noticed his own dilemma yet. Well, his was not a romantic one, after all. "Fran, it's time..." Antonio reminded him, putting his index finger on his wrist, as though pointing at an imaginary clock. The king let out a quiet grumble, returned to them with elegant steps and shook his blond hair behind his shoulder. "Alright, Alfred, you know what to do," he said, seeing the other nod listlessly. "We will stay in touch!" Then, he turned to Arthur, who was still looking at him with displeasure. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Arthur." Obviously, Arthur didn't believe these words. "Same," he simply replied, and they glared at each other. "Okay, it's time for us to go now. See you later, Artie!" said Antonio. Matthew did the same and took Francis' hand, which surprised Alfred, since he knew that the King of Diamonds would never touch a person who was beneath him. So it was highly unusual to see him holding the hand of a simple orphan, however, Alfred decided to not say anything. The three left the store, making the little bell ring again. "And? Who is this Francis?" asked Arthur with a hint of anger in his voice. But Alfred didn't respond. Instead, he just headed to the door, seeing the others already turning the corner, changed the sign on the door to the "Closed"-side, returned to Arthur, and, without saying a word, wrapped an arm around the other's waist and kissed him. Arthur did put up a bit of resistance at the beginning, but not for long. "Answer me: Who is Francis?" Arthur insisted, shoving Alfred away slightly. He knew he was behaving like a jealous girlfriend, but couldn't help it: one moment, Alfred didn't know anyone, and suddenly, some guy appeared who hugged him and everything... "The King of Diamonds, I already told you," Alfred answered, resuming the kiss that Alfred was forced to correspond again. "That's not what I mean," the store owner objected, but Alfred didn't listen anymore, instead capturing his mouth again and pressing his body even tighter against Arthur's. The latter let out a sigh into Alfred's mouth. He hated him. He really did. In the end, Arthur lost the battle against Alfred's mouth, however, he hadn't thought that this kiss wouldn't be like usual, like the playful ones they gave each other from time to time when nobody was looking, or the ones before going to sleep or while preparing breakfast in the morning... this kiss was very different, one that asked for more. It was scaring Arthur. How far was he willing to go with Alfred? But before he could even grasp it, they were already heading to the backroom, stumbling on their way, but not letting go of each other. Alfred kicked the door shut, after they had entered. His hands had started to act on their own and were running over Arthur's entire body. The latter's mind got fogged, especially when his mouth moved from Alfred's lips to his neck. This surprised the king a bit, and even more when the other started to unbutton his shirt and their contact was becoming more savage. "W-What are you doing?" Alfred asked nervously when he felt Arthur's fingers descend from his chest to his pants and shamelessly enter them, making the king bend over a bit and moan, while his face was taking on a thousand shades of colors. And this was the exact moment when Arthur knew how far he wanted to go. To hell with their age gap, to hell with the fact that they were in his store right now, to hell with Alfred's life story that resembled a fairy tale... to hell with everything... And he pulled the king to the table, kissing him as if there was no tomorrow and wanting to tear off his clothes in order to see that goddamn sexy tattoo he had on his side. He wanted Alfred. Everything of Alfred. "Arthur, wait," the other asked, panting. "What?" Arthur inquired anxiously, almost having gotten rid of his shirt bothering him. "Is everything alright with your heart? It's beating so fast." Alfred's voice was so full of worry that Arthur couldn't resist kissing his lips again. Of course it was beating fast, and this was all the fault of that naive guy with a hero complex who seemed so familiar to him as though they knew each other for years. Now, they ended up on the floor, and the fearful and embarrassed Alfred did what Arthur was telling him to. Everything: from removing his clothes, kissing him where he wanted and caressing him to becoming one with him. And Arthur, for his part, was feeling his heart melt from Alfred's timid gestures and his constant "Are you alright?" when a pleasure-filled moan escaped the older one's mouth. And also from the way the king's body started to tremble from time to time and how clumsily he moved... Alfred's heart was pounding so hard, Arthur could feel it against his own chest... and he couldn't help but run his finger over that black spade symbol that was now slightly covered in sweat. He was redrawing every line, every detail, while that tingling inside him multiplied by one hundred, and for a second... for an instant... "Majesty..." he whispered without even realizing it, as if someone had stolen his voice and his thoughts, usurping his place just to pronounce that one word that Alfred thought he had only imagined and that transported him to the bed in his palace for a moment. He could almost see it with his blurred vision: the brocade curtains hanging from the bed canopy and under him, the same Arthur, until he returned to reality during his climax, with Arthur burying his nails into his back and an unexplainable pleasure in his lower abdomen that went all the way up to his throat. "This was... incredible..." he said, still trying to normalize his breathing, lying on the floor and looking at the ceiling. Arthur smiled, satisfied for having managed to give the king a great "first time". Alfred turned on his side, still lying naked on the floor together with Arthur, who smiled again, this time with some coquetry. The king examined the other's face, his huge green eyes that seemed as though they would pierce him any moment and look into his thoughts, the always messy blond hair, as rebellious as Arthur himself used to be, his pale, slightly reddened cheeks and his smiling lips... once again, he considered to escape, but instead wrapped his arms around Arthur. "Oh, Arthur, I love you so much," he suddenly said as though forced by his own throat. Arthur just chuckled and placed his hand again on the other's side. "You look like a kid," he joked, feeling the spade's texture under his fingers. "I'm not a kid," Alfred protested without letting go. "Yep, you already proved that," the store owner said with a double meaning and snuggled against Alfred's chest to stay close to him and perceive his Majesty's natural scent, while the latter was playing with his hair. "Arthur... I don't want to leave..." said the king with melancholy. "So stay, then." "I can't... if we find the King of Clubs and the King of Hearts and also the jokers, I'll have to leave..." Arthur, however, didn't take these words seriously. He still considered them a product of Alfred's fantasy, so he just kept lying there hugging his lover and running his fingertips over the latter's tattoo. "I hope we'll never find them," thought the young king, closing his eyes and enjoying Arthur's warm breath on his chest. At the same time, but in another place, Ivan was doing something similar. He, too, was feeling someone breathing against his chest, while playing with that person's hair. The difference was, however, that he wasn't naked, and Feliks neither... The two of them were lying in the king's bed, covered with the blanket up to their waist, despite the fact that it was noon. Feliks was almost clinging to Ivan, his arms wrapped around the king's hips and his eyes closed, while the latter was stroking his long golden hair. They had spent the entire night in that position after yesterday's incident. Ivan had carried Feliks to his bed, and there was his roommate now, pressed up against him, with no intention to let go.  Ivan tried to shift a bit, since his back was slightly aching, but as soon as he did, Felik's hold became tighter. "No, stay like this," the latter commanded without opening his eyes, his voice a bit hoarse and lacking even the tiniest bit of emotions. So Ivan didn't argue and just stayed in place, looking at the reddened skin under Felik's eyes, who relaxed his arms again.  A whole hour passed, and Ivan's back pain was growing worse. But now, Feliks sat up out of the blue, his hair a mess and with a dull expression on his face, removed the blanket and got out of bed. "Let's go to the roof," he announced and left the room, followed by Ivan, who felt like a servant for a moment. But if it was for Feliks, he didn't mind, he just wanted to know if the other was alright... even though it was more than obvious that he wasn't. They went their usual path upstairs, opened the door, and were greeted by that afternoon's gigantic sky decorated with fluffy clouds... but Feliks didn't give a damn about it. He headed to the bars that were surrounding the roof and took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, putting one into his mouth and lighting it. Then he took a long puff and exhaled the smoke, staring at nothing in particular and in complete silence. Ivan, in the meantime, sat down on the floor and watched Feliks' slender back that was looking as fragile as ever. For the very first time, the silence between them became unbearable. The only sound was Feliks smoking his third cigarette without averting his gaze from whatever point he was staring at. "Young Feliks," Ivan called him with his typical childish smile, making him turn around and look at him with reddened eyes and a serious expression that didn't suit him at all. "Come here." Feliks dragged himself in silence towards the king and sat down, bringing his cigarette to his lips once again. Ivan undid half of his incredibly long scarf and wrapped it around Feliks' neck. The latter was baffled when he felt the warm fabric and looked at the king with slight curiosity but still without saying a word. "There, now it is not so cold anymore," said Ivan, smiling innocently. Feliks was about to object that it wasn't even cold, that the weather was really nice that day... but then he remembered the words Ivan had said the other day: that loneliness was cold... "Right... it's gotten warmer," he agreed after a few seconds of silence and took the tobacco out of his mouth, placing it aside and lifting the scarf a bit to cover his mouth and part of his nose. Ivan's smile got wider, and he tilted his head, leaning it against Feliks'. The latter didn't object. "Feliks, when we first met, you told me that you were waiting for your prince," began Ivan. His roommate felt a terrible twinge of pain in his chest, but forgot about it when he felt Ivan's forehead on his.  "How about a king, instead?" the king suggested, staring at him with his violet eyes. Feliks moved his head to look in front of him. "No," he replied, his voice slightly muffled by the scarf. Ivan was flabbergasted, he definitely didn't expect an answer like that. This time, it was Feliks staring him into the eyes and moving the cloth down a bit to speak better. There was still that austere expression on his face. "I don't want any princes nor kings anymore... I want someone real."  His brows were arching down, giving him an image of pure sadness, and he bent his legs, hugged his knees and buried his face between them. "I want someone real, Ivan... someone who really exists, but I don't know myself anymore who's real and who's not. If you only knew how it is to have your mind deceive you so cruelly, to give you such palpable illusions, to tell you all the time that... that what you see in front of your eyes is the truth and convince you to such a point that you are even able to feel, to hear that person... it's so horrible to hear their voice the entire time in your head and sometimes feel their skin... and one day, you don't even know what to believe in anymore. From one moment to the next, lies stop looking like lies, and I don't want that... I don't want to continue living like that, I don't want to see Toris again and surrender to my own insanity... I want someone real," he repeated in the end, now covering his head and sobbing quietly. But as soon as the first tears came out, he suddenly felt Ivan throwing himself at him. Feliks was a bit perplexed when he found himself on the floor with Ivan on top of him, still sharing the scarf with him. Ivan was smiling with a malicity he hadn't seen since the day they had first met, but instead of threatening him, the king suddenly started to pinch his cheeks with such a force that it made Feliks let out one of his typical girlish screeches. "What are you doing?! Leave me alone!" he screamed, closing his eyes from the pain of the king's fingers tugging at his cheeks and causing the skin to turn slightly black and blue, while Feliks himself was trying to get Ivan away, slapping him weakly. "Does it hurt?" Ivan asked, still not stopping despite the fact that the other was moving his head and struggling. "Shit, of course it does!" Feliks yelled at him, shedding small tears of pain. Ivan finally let go, smiling at him, as though it had only been a childish prank. "See, if the pain is real, then the person in front of you is as well, that you can be sure of. And if you need further confirmation, just tell me, I will be happy to pinch you once again," he said, still on top of him. The scarf around their necks was making them look like a couple. Perceiving the throbbing pain in his cheeks, Feliks realized that it was useless to wait for someone everyone apart from him deemed an illusion, that it was a waste of time to listen to that voice in his head telling him to keep waiting, when he not only had a self-proclaimed king, but a friend by his side... a real friend. "Ivan..." Feliks said, trying to smile, and gently placed his hands on the king's face. Feeling the pleasant caresses comforting him, the latter noticed that it was the first time of him doing something good to someone else in his life, without hurting (the pinching didn't count!) nor making anybody unhappy... however, those thoughts were interrupted by Feliks starting to pinch his cheeks with the same force, paying him back for his attack. "You didn't have to hurt my beautiful face to tell me this!" he snapped. Ivan screamed out in pain and moved back, but Feliks didn't let go, screaming "You're, like, a cruel bastard, Ivan-baby, doing that to my face!" And even though Feliks was laughing, Ivan knew that he wasn't alright at all, that he was still hurting, that his heart continued being broken... but Feliks was the type of person the King of Clubs always wanted to be himself: one who was able to hide the cracks in his heart until they slowly disappeared, one who didn't smile because otherwise his world would fall apart, but to show his strength while facing hardships. Feliks kept pinching Ivan for a while, until his little vengeance turned into a fight between the two of them, or rather a silly game, after which they ended up with swollen and bruised cheeks and arms. "Ouch... you're savage, Ivan," his roommate complained, massaging his cheeks with a pained expression on his face. Ivan didn't respond, just feeling relieved that Feliks was a little better now, despite all of this being just an act, his way to stay strong. "Young Feliks... please consider my invitation," the king said, without paying attention to his face that was already full of bruises. "What invitation?" inquired Feliks, arranging his hair that was probably a real disaster by now. "To accompany me to my kingdom, once we manage to leave this place," replied Ivan, beginning to use the plural form. Feliks looked at him, and a sad smile appeared on his face, while he directed his gaze to the sky, thinking about a lot of things that the king would probably never understand. In the end, he let out a sigh. "Maybe I will..." he answered simply, and there was silence again, the one they always used to share. Without noticing a certain nurse who was watching them from behind the slightly opened door. Emma smiled a bit and carefully closed the door. She had been terribly worried about Feliks since last evening, not having seen him like this since the day he had been admitted to the hospital. It was still breaking her heart to see one of her good friends in such a condition, but now, she could be a bit calmer, knowing that the poor guy had someone by his side who could comfort him when he suffered from fits like these, when he heard that his beloved Toris wasn't real... because this was not the first time it had happened, however never as intense as now. The psychiatrists were sometimes wondering whether he needed stronger medicine... obviously not knowing that he wasn't even taking the one he was already getting. She went downstairs and was stopped in the hallway by one of her coworkers, who glared at her. "It's your day off, Emma, the hell are you doing here?" the other nurse scolded her. Emma just laughed nervously and looked away. "Uhm... well, I... wanted to make sure that Feliks was alright," she said, giggling with embarrassment. "And now you did. So leave already, you had two night shifts in a row and need to sleep!" Emma apologized and rather reluctantly went to get her things, after having asked her colleague to inform her immediately if something happened to Feliks. The other promised her to do it, shoving her away. The nurse cast a last glance at the roof, where the king and her friend were probably still talking or maybe thinking in silence, shook her head in order to get rid of her paranoia and her worries, and started heading home, suddenly feeling all the fatigue that had built up during the last two sleepless days. She put on her earphones to listen to the music on her iPod while walking, and hummed along to the song, until she spotted a young man dressed in black and wearing his hood on his head despite the pleasant warm weather. A few strands of silver hair, however, still were visible from under it, and Emma knew only one person with such an unusual hair color. "Gilbert!" she called him, taking off one of the earphones and raising one hand so that he could see her coming closer. "Hi," Gilbert greeted her with his usual vain grin. "What are you doing here? I haven't seen you for an eternity, you almost stopped going out with Antonio. Do you have a girlfriend or what?" she joked, elbowing him slightly into the ribs. "Nope, of course not, I was just busy. Someone as awesome as me can't just spend his days doing nothing," he said, putting on airs, but not managing to convince her. "Sure. Says the one who can't find work for almost three months now. Do something about it, Beilschmidt, the government won't feed you forever. Oh, by the way, where are you going?" she asked, noticing that this was none of the streets Gilbert used to frecuent. "I want to visit someone... kesesese," Gilbert replied in a suspicious tone. Or at least, this was what it seemed to Emma. So she decided to not ask any more questions. "Alright, then see you later. We need to go out for a drink some day, we haven't done it for a while. Bye!" She gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek and left. When she was far enough away, Gilbert ran his hand through his hair, tousling it, careful to not let his hood fall from his head and reveal his horns. That had been close. He didn't know that girl, but she obviously knew this world's Gilbert. What luck that they only had a casual chat together. But whatever, now he had to head to his real destiny.  This time he was walking to Feliciano's home like a normal person, by foot, not jumping from roof to roof. Walking on the streets from time to time wasn't that bad, it even gave him the impression of being just another citizen of that town, not a nearly extinct creature with supernatural abilities that was in the crosshairs of four kingdoms, an entire nation. He liked that feeling of normality he would never be able to enjoy in the world he really belonged to. After almost half an hour, he finally spotted the facade of Feliciano's house, and this time, he did have to make use of his abilities as a joker in order to climb to the window of the Italian's bedroom. Reaching it, he saw the latter curled up in his bed, completely covered by his blanket. Suddenly, the joker saw the King of Hearts enter the room... which he didn't like in the slightest. "Feliciano, you have to eat something. You have been like this since last night," the king said. Feliciano was sobbing quietly in his bed. After having been forced to run away by his brother, he ran so fast like back then, in his childhood, when he had to escape from other kids who were bullying him. As soon as he reached Ludwig, he grabbed the king's wrist and dragged him along without any explanation until they arrived home. There, the teenager collapsed to the floor, panting and crying, and told Ludwig that his brother had been caught. He was so upset, he even started to scream that he would never see Lovino again, that they would be separated once more, this time forever. Ludwig needed almost an hour to calm down Feliciano, who, still crying, agreed to go to his room and try to sleep to be able to think clearly the next morning... however, that didn't happen: Feliciano had spent the entire night and part of the morning crying. "Ve~ Ludwig... you don't understand... if Antonio tells someone, I'm sure my brother will be sent far away, and I will never see him again," the Italian said, shifting a bit, so that Ludwig could sit down on his bed. "Why are they doing this to us, Lud? Why do they want to separate us so badly? We have never harmed anyone," he continued, wiping his tears with the bedsheets.  Ludwig just stayed where he was without knowing what to answer. After all, he could never understand all of that, since he was a king and had no family... or he did, but had been separated from it as a baby, growing up without any family bonds. "Siblings are supposed to be together, but everyone still insists on separating us, saying that Lovino is a bad influence for me, but they don't understand, don't know anything... they don't know us," said Feliciano, burying himself further into the bed, covering himself with the blanket. The king was watching that sad scene, that last part was reminding him of his jack, the other Feliciano, who probably had to be separated from his brother as well (if he had one), when he had taken on his new position. Forgetting the boy in front of him for a moment, he immersed himself in thoughts of his servant... he didn't know Feliciano either, despite having spent so many years together, he couldn't even say if the latter had any siblings or not. Such a long time of seeing him smile had never created any questions in him, nor any interest in Feliciano's life further than his duty as the jack... and now he hated himself for that. He took another look at Feliciano, who was lying with his eyes slightly swollen by the tears that hadn't stopped flowing and were running over his cheeks and nose. There was a sad look in his honey-colored eyes, his thin fingers trying to wipe them, and sobs were leaving his slightly opened mouth, together with some words in that odd language the king couldn't manage to understand. More than Feliciano Vargas, Ludwig was seeing the Jack of Hearts in that bed, the one who was supposedly in love with him... but if this was really true, then did it mean that the jack had been crying like this because of him as well? Spent entire nights muttering his name while crying and hugging nothing but a pillow? A strange pressure attacked the king's heart at the mere image of his servant being in such a lamentable state thanks to his indifference (not to say, stupidity). Still thinking of the Jack of Hearts, he ran his hand over Feliciano's cheek. The latter felt the warm touch and looked at Ludwig, who had such an intense gaze in his blue eyes, that the Italian even got intimidated for a few seconds. But he still couldn't manage to look away, as though the king's were powerful magnets that didn't let him escape. "Do not cry..." Ludwig whispered to him. His deep voice was almost hoarse, giving Feliciano goosebumps, while his fingers kept carressing the other's cheek until reaching his chin and unconsciously touching his lower lip with his thumb, causing Feliciano to hold his breath until the contact was over. Ludwig bent down a bit, his hand already entirely on Feliciano's face. Seeing the king closer to himself, the Italian's heart started pounding like crazy, even more than the day before when he had been caught by Antonio while trying to escape with his brother. The tips of their noses touched, and Ludwig could see Feliciano's wet eyelashes, the tear traces left on his cheeks, and his still slightly opened mouth. He wished for that mouth to call his name, but before this could happen, he pressed his own lips against Feliciano's, in a barely noticeable contact that the latter didn't refuse, even closing his eyes in order to feel it better. So Ludwig grew bolder and turned that contact into a proper kiss. Feliciano was taking such deep breaths that his lungs started to hurt, while kissing the king, he placed his hands on the latter's chest, one of it right on his blood-red heart symbol that started to burn almost unbearably. What was happening to Ludwig? But no... it wasn't his mark that was burning, but his heart that seemed to be pumping lava instead of blood through his veins. The king wrapped his arm around Feliciano's waist to indicate to him that he should straighten his back a bit so they could be at the same height. Feliciano, however, broke off the kiss for a moment, perhaps being at least a bit aware of what was happening, but before he could separate himself more, Ludwig kissed him again, not wanting to let him go, because his place was in his arms... Just when had he become such a possessive person? At which moment had he started to long for somebody so much?  The kiss seemed to last forever, and they both felt as though their hearts would jump out of their chests. Until an abnormally painful heartbeat made Feliciano shove the king away, making them both snap out of the strange spell they had been under. The two of them then looked at each other, surprised by their own actions, the king still having his hands around Feliciano's waist. He wanted to say something, but the Italian spoke first. "Uhm... I..." he muttered, trying to find the right words to say, but couldn't, so he just apologized and ran out of the room, still wrapped into the blanket and tripping over it in the hallway. But he didn't seem to have any intention to get up, instead staying on the floor, breathing heavily and crawling towards a corner where he leant his back against the wall and covered his mouth with both hands, tightly shutting his eyes. "Oh God... oh God... forgive me, I'm a bad person," he said, feeling his lips burn, with Ludwig's taste still remaining in his mouth. "I am a bad person..." he repeated, his voice breaking. "I think I stole something very important from the jack..." And covered his face to hide his embarrassment and his violent blush. Their heartbeats and emotions were so strong that they even reached the people connected to them. For different reasons, but still connected. The boring atmosphere got interrupted when Queen Kiku suddenly let out a stifled scream in the middle of teatime. The Queen of Clubs, the one of Diamonds, and their respective jacks had been immersed in an imperturbable silence, not even touching their cups. Elizabetha had been concentrating on stirring her tea with her spoon, lost in thought and feeling down for seemingly no reason. But she knew that these feelings weighing on her were not hers, but Ivan's.  Lilly in the meantime, was watching the landscape, having her hands around the warm cup and thinking of Francis, as though his name was resounding in her mind without a break since the day of his disappearance. And Kiku, for his part, had just respected their silence and fanning himself, wondering whether Arthur was alright, since the latter had left the table one hour ago, saying that he wasn't feeling well. And the jacks, Yao included, were simply standing behind the queens and sharing the same silence. And just as Elizabetha was about to yawn, Kiku let out that scream, suddenly placing his hands on the table, moving all the cups, and startling the two other queens, who looked at him with worry, as he raised his hand to his chest, feeling his heart burn painfully... "Kiku, are you alright?" Elizabetha asked and got up, when she saw him breathe with difficulty and drop his fan. "Y...Yes," he replied after a while when he was able to speak again. Then stood up as well, leaning his hands against the table and trying to calm down a bit under the preoccupied gazes of the others. Except for Feliciano, who seemed to be in a state of trance and didn't notice the condition his lord was in. "Excuse me... I think I should go to my room," the Queen of Hearts managed to say. Seeing that no one objected, he left. "Go with him, aru," Yao scolded Feliciano, nudging him. The jack left his odd state of absence, did a little jump and looked around, not understanding what was going on, but then saw Kiku leave and ran after him. The jack was feeling his mouth burn, his heart pound with force and a weird nostalgia that had appeared out of nowhere, while Kiku was walking before him, hurrying to get to his room. He was going so fast, as though he wasn't wearing that very impractical kimono, and Feliciano had to run from time to time to not be left behind. The jack wanted to ask his lord what the matter was, but knew that the latter wouldn't reply: Kiku was just too reserved of a person. Yes, he was kind, polite, and cared about those important to him, but when it was about himself, he never opened his mouth. The queen finally reached his room’s door and stopped in front of it. “Feliciano, could you leave me alone for a moment, please?” he asked as kindly as he could, not wanting to be too hard with the jack. The latter bowed and obeyed, and the queen hurried into the room, closed the door behind him and covered his mouth to finally let out that scream from earlier. “Ludwig, just what happened to you?” he asked, taking deep breaths and walking to and fro in his room, still having his hand on his mouth to not emit any sound that could draw Feliciano’s or any other servant’s attention. Finally, he grew tired of walking around and dragged the chair away from his little desk that served to write letters and had space to keep ink, quills and paper. Kiku shut his eyes tightly, hugging himself. There was a deep distress on his face, and in order to calm down a bit, he bit his lower lip until it almost bled. “No, Ludwig… do not do anything foolish… do not do anything you could regret later,” he said, as if he wanted the King of Hearts himself to hear him, because he knew these symptoms weren’t his, but the king’s to whom he was connected to through the red heart symbols. “Please, Ludwig, do not go through the same things as me…” His whispers broke, while he buried his own fingers into his arms… feeling the warmth of invisible caresses, hands that were burning him, the touch of one person who had caused his heart to beat exactly like this many years ago. His heart awoke and together with it also the memories he had been keeping numb in a corner of his mind… but now it all was coming back despite the time that had passed and the distance… He was feeling that love’s effects as if the years had never passed, and suddenly, a rebellious tear appeared in his dark eyes… after so much time, he was once again crying for that person. Without wanting, he let out a sob, as he saw the latter’s face clearly before his eyes, the face of the one who was the cause of said sadness. Peter the joker was watching the scene from his hiding place at the window and directed his gaze to the sky, already suspecting what was probably going on in the other world. He immediately thought of Gilbert and shook his head, letting out a snort… things seemed to be going down the wrong road, and what had begun as a well-defined plan, was now taking a completely different path… something had to be done. Absolutely.