Alright, I like this story. I really do. But do you guys see this as a story? Or a serious of disconnected drabbles? In other news, I have edited this chapter! :)

DISCLAIMER: I don't own APH.

ARTHUR JAMES KIRKLAND

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I was trying a new strategy with Lovino, deciding to take a more humanistic approach. I was going to leave my notes and clipboard out in the hall, dress in casual clothes, all in an attempt to come off friendlier. He was talking little by little, but he seemed to be holding back simply because I wore a lab coat. Why? I wasn't quite sure. He seemed to have something against authority. He was impulsive and rude but also seemed angry and scared. I took another deep breath, gathering my thoughts before opening the door, grabbing the chair from the corner of the room. He was laying on his bed, reading a book and continually pushing his hair out his eyes. I made a mental note to get the boy a haircut as I sat down. My chair was far enough away to give him space. He had looked up as I came in, putting his book under his pillow as he sat up. His eyes followed my every move before he met my eyes, silently asking his usual question: What the fuck do you want?

I chuckled, watching as he pushed his hair out his face again. "It's time for you to get another haircut." I said, not exactly fazed when he glared at me. I sighed, speaking again "Lovino, this isn't an interrogation." I said softly, somewhat uncertain if this would work. He was unpredictable at best. I never truly knew what he'd say or when he'd say it. This time he simply scoffed, crossing his legs under him.

"What the fuck do you want to call it then tea bastard?" He asked me, with a raised eyebrow. I've learned something: Lovino gives nicknames to those he trusts. Matthew is Mattie, Gilbert is Gilbert. It's as simple as that. I felt a bit of pride, having earned his trust. At least a little of it.

"I call it therapy." I said, my fingers simply twitching as they had nothing to hold. "Lovino, you need help, that much is certain. And I understand your hesitance. But you have to at least talk to me. How was your day?" I asked, sitting back in my chair.

"Shitty." He said simply, leaning back against the wall. He was talking, so he was in a somewhat good mood. Still, I need patience for him to tell me why.

LOVINO ROMANO VARGAS

Even if this interrogation started like every single other one, we actually did talk for a while, about everything and nothing. I was in a good mood, happy if you consider the shitty circumstances. I couldn't help but feel scared though. I could feel something inside me slip. I was starting to trust this bastard, which I knew would lead to some kind of confession.

Suddenly, out of nowhere came the fucking question. "Lovino, why did you kill those people?" he asked. I just scowled, reaching for my book.

"It's none of your fucking business." I muttered, just like every time he's asked this question. I was starting to shut down again, my grip on the book tightening. Anything to keep from answering.

"Lovino, I'm just trying to help, but you have to work with me." he said. I was starting to trust him. Maybe that's why I said what I said next.

"It's for control." I said softly, not meeting his gaze. I was going to fucking burst. I just knew it. I was going to fucking break from the fucking stress I felt and he'd know everything but then what? "It's for fucking control…. that's all is ever is!" I yelled, surprising myself. My words had gone from a whisper to yelling within moments. "I like having fucking life and death in my control alright? At least I have control over that." I muttered, my voice having lowered to a fucking weak whisper again. There. I burst. I felt both relieved and scared, angry. I felt something wet on my cheek, dripping down to my chin before falling to my arm. Was that a fucking tear? When did I start crying? Why was I crying? I was gripping my book tightly, looking at the yellowed pages, trying to focus on those. It was hard, my vision getting blurry from the goddamn tears. I swallowed thickly, knowing what was coming next. More questions, more confessions and more of these bastards prying into my mind and life.

ARTHUR JAMES KIRKLAND

I was stunned, not sure if I should be glad or concerned. Lovino looked so angry but so relieved. I moved from my chair, sitting on the edge of his bed. "Lovino, its okay to cry…" I said softly, the Italian flinching as I reached out to rub his back. I had many more questions, but took a moment to comfort him. "Do you believe you don't have control?" I asked softly. Lovino just nodded, tears still sliding down his cheeks. "What makes you believe you don't have control?"

"If I had control, I would be in Italy. I'd have a bella ragazza and my family would be there. Alive." he muttered, his voice quiet, though his tone sounded mocking.

"But instead…" I prompted him.

"Instead, I'm fucking gay. My parents and Nonno are fucking dead and my goddamn fratello is fucking terrified of me." he said, his fists clenching. "I release some anger and then bastards like you claim I need help!" he yelled, pushing me off the bed. I grunted as I landed on the floor, stunned from the physical outburst. I silently stood up, sitting back down in my chair. I opened my mouth, watching as Lovino glared at me. "We're fucking done here." he mumbled, laying down again and turning away from me.

I blinked, but knew he had shut down again, completely this time. He wasn't going to say anything else to me and I knew I couldn't force him to open up anymore. I sighed, standing up and putting my chair back into the corner. "Alright, relax then. Lights out is in an hour." I said, leaving again. Once in the hall, I picked up my papers with a sigh and went to the empty mess hall. I had a lot to write down.

LUDWIG BEILCHSMIDT

Matthew was difficult to say the least. He was difficult at any time of day and I'm sure that's why I was assigned to him. He told me why the first time we talked: it was for attention. It never went farther than that, his attitude mostly narcissistic as he regarded me. Even now, as I sat across from him he continued to do what he was doing before: read.

"Still pestering me, eh?" he asked softly, raising his head briefly to glance at me.

"I never called it that. Why do you believe you deserve more in life?" I asked bluntly.

"I never called it that." he said, clearly mocking me. I sighed, looking at the papers in my hands. The most logical idea is that he believes he deserves more. He chose to take lives. He was able to plead insanity, meaning he didn't know the difference between right and wrong at the time. He either doesn't know or refuses to acknowledge that he has a problem. That would make any disorders he could possibly have ego-syntonic. "I thought this was therapy?" he asked suddenly. I just looked up, an eyebrow raised.

"What do you mean? I can't help someone that refuses to talk. You obviously don't want my help." I said, moving to stand up. As I stood, I could feel the atmosphere change. I never noticed it before, but I made no announcement of my discovery. Instead, I left the room and went to the cafeteria. "Guten tag." I said, sitting across from Arthur.

"Hm? 'Ello. You're seeing Matthew right?" he asked, glancing up from his papers briefly to further acknowledge me.

"Ja, why?"

"Well, Lovino says he killed for control. I was wondering if there's more to that. Matthew doesn't seem at all submissive." I nodded, watching as Arthur continued to work. After another hour of jotting down notes I left early with Gilbert, my thoughts still heavy on how to approach Matthew next.

I worked very, very hard on this! Its way late but at least this summer you guys know I'm alive! :)