AN: Wow, am I late for a Halloween story, or what? Oh well. God, I hate the ending. Oh well, again.

ps. This is the longest one-chapter thingy I have ever written. Go me.

Enjoy~

The day was chilly and a group of students sat huddled against the cold. They each rubbed their hands and breathed hot air onto their palms whilst sitting on a freezing metal lunch table. One brunet boy mumbled curses into his hands and he glared at the friends who dragged him from the comforting heat of the school building. A taller, blonde boy who seemed impervious to the cold air leaned against the legs of his British friend as he sighed.

The blonde boy, Alfred, looked back towards his shivering group of friends with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"So, guys," he began, "It's the anniversary." There was a song in his voice the made irritation ring through the brunet Italian.

"The anniversary of what, dumb ass?" He flicked Alfred in the nose with a frozen finger. Alfred frowned and rubbed his numb, throbbing nose.

"Of that missing kids case! Don't y'all remember? The kids went here," he said, motioning to the large, one story building. Every shivering boy looked down, their shaking still for a moment as they all recalled the event, only one year past.

Three boys, all juniors that shared classes and childhoods with one another, vanished one October morning, the morning before All Hallow's Eve.

The eldest boy, Gilbert, was a tall, self-proclaimed Prussian man with hair whiter than snow and eyes the shade of blood. He was boisterous in the proclamations of his apparent 'Awesomeness' and when ever he spoke in general.

The next in age, only one month younger, was Francis. He was a fine French boy who carried himself in an urbane manner, the epitome of suave and regal appearance. His hair was tendrils of golden thread that he kept tied behind his neck in a sky blue ribbon that mirrored the shade of his eyes.

The youngest, but not by much, was Antonio, a boy in a blooming man's body. His skin was smooth and the shade of creamy coffee, but smelt of the Earth and it's dark, sodden soil. He had a lit about his voice that was charming in every sense of the word and a twinkling in his emerald eyes that showed childlike excitement.

As was their daily routine, all three boys gathered in front of one of their houses during the chilly morning (Antonio's house, seeing as it was a Tuesday). They huddled together for warmth and sauntered to the school building, all laughs and taunts and jeers that they only ever directed towards each other.

That was the only normality that their day seemed to hold. Not head or hind of any of the trio's components were spotted on the school grounds and none of their usual ditching spots were occupied.

The arcade was closed during school hours, and so was the bowling alley. Everyone questioned at the local mall reported not a single sighting of any of the teens. Their parents reported that none of the boys ever came home, and each of the three were not known to run away, nor had they shown any signs of wishing to abandon their homes.

It was as if the boys had just-

"-Vanished into thin air," said Alfred as he slammed his hands against the table. All the boys sitting at the table jumped at the loud noise his hands created. Alfred looked to Lovino, the fuming, cold Italian ready to unleash Hell on Earth upon the blue eyed boy, and smiled.

"Don't you remember that one Spanish kid, An... Ah... Antho...," Alfred motioned his hand. Lovino opened his mouth to spit an answer but was cut off by the fast speaking American.

"Oh, yeah. His name was Antonio. He was in one of your classes." Lovino nodded and a forlorn felling crept into his heart. He was not able to delve too deep into his feelings though, as the American's piercing voice cut his ears again.

"Artie! You always fought with the Frenchie, right?" Arthur, the proud British fellow, scoffed at his affectionate nickname. Then he pulled his collar closed with shivering hands.

"I hope that smelly frog stays gone," said Arthur in a huff, turning his nose up and grimacing to simulate his distaste of the man. Alfred laughed and patted the foreign boy on the back with three hard, hollow sounding thumps.

Lovino tried to tune out the annoying noise with the more tolerable noise of his brother. He turned to the shivering boy who had cold snot running from his nose and a blanket pulled over his jacket.

"Wh-why couldn't we ha-have just-t sat ins-side," Feliciano stuttered out through his chattering teeth. Lovino shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"Our jerk friends thought freezing our asses off would add to the 'Spooky Atmosphere'," said Lovino as risked his fingers against the cold air to throw up air quotes. Feliciano stuck out his cold bottom lip in a pout and pulled his shoulders to his ears.

Then, the blessed, piercing bell that signaled the end of their freezing lunch period rang, and Lovino was the first inside. He hurried to his class, shaking his wrists and cursing his friends the whole way.

Lovino despised Algebra. It was as simple as that. His hate for the class surpassed even his hate for the English and Germans combined, and that was already a large amount of spite for one person.

He sat in his seat, the old desk at the far back corner of the classroom covered in 'Skool iz 4 Chumps' writings and doodles of a large and mighty impressive phallus, napping almost everyday. The teacher would prattle on about numbers and letters that seemed superfluous in a math problem while Lovino snoozed.

During his post-lunch siesta, Lovino dreamt. His dreams were always full of his favorite red fruit or some of the pretty ladies in his class, but this day, his dream held neither.

Lovino walked slowly through dank gray halls. The long walls seemed to stretch forever in either direction, and they were freezing to the touch.

Lifeless. That was the only way Lovino could describe the walls. They seemed as though the life was sucked from them in the most horrid of ways, leaving the painful memory of death.

Lovino continued his vain search for anything other than the long gray walls and the dull echo of his black sneakers against the uniform gray floor. He wrapped his arms around himself to fight against the cold that radiated from the marrow of his bones, not seeping through his thin layers of skin.

Finally, a glare of light caught his eye, and he sharply turned his head to the left. The glimpse of light was the shine of a silver door handle, the only sign of an entryway in the midst of an endless gray sea. Upon closer inspection, Lovino found that, if he ran his fingers against the wall, he would feel the small dip of a valley that signaled the edge of the door.

Panic whispered in his ears but curiosity shouted in his face to open the door. Lovino stole his courage and gripped the door with an unsure hand, twisting the knob with a click that felt so loud his teeth clattered in his mouth.

The door demorphed from the wall in a silent movement. He swung the door slowly, peering inside with only one eye. When he could see nothing more than another gray wall, he opened the door wider, stepping fully into the room.

"More fucking gray," said Lovino, the annoyance in his voice reverberating off of the walls like a bass drum. The sound rang against his body, lifting his feet from the ground and making bile rise to his throat in nausea.

Lovino swirled his arms in the air, shifting his body and turning him around. As he turned, he spied a thing that jarred his floating form. A tall man, all dark body and long limbs, stood with his feet resting on Lovino's ceiling. Lovino's eyes were locked by the man's own pulsing orbs.

They were pools of green moss surrounding a deep pool of liquid jade strung around a dark onyx gem. The eyes stood out, glowed, and devoured the smaller man's mind whole.

Lovino could feel those eyes burrowing into his own, reaching deep into his soul with prying fingers of his own physical agony. He could feel tears tearing their way from his eyes and could hear the sound of metallic wheezing to his left. The scent of a old French perfume tickled his nose. The taste of fresh rain danced over his tongue, but he still could not look away.

Then, there was blood. Everything was red. The eyes were gone, the smells, tastes, sound; all were gone. In there wake was the beating, and the soft metallic leaving an unpleasant memory on Lovino's tongue. The walls, a once boring gray, gained life.

The walls grew red and slick with gushing blood. They throbbed and beat with the quick pounding of Lovino's own heart. Blood splashed onto his still hovering form as he floated closer to the pulsing walls, staining his hands in a warm and sticky red.

He extended his arms to beat against the walls, panic bubbling in his gut. The walls contracted around him, and Lovino felt his heart contract in fear.

The wheezing invaded his ears again and the perfume glided through his nose. Rain kissed his dry tongue. Lovino felt his senses betraying him, ambushing him with sensations meant only to terrify him.

Lovino worried the wall with his beating fits with an even greater ardor when the intense eyes flashed through his mind once again. A sound louder than the desperate wheezing reached his ears.

"Lovinito."

Lovino woke with a strangled gasp, sitting up from his desk. Every head in the room was turned to him and watching him with wary eyes. The teacher had her hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles, when she spoke to him.

"Lovino, dear. Please, step into the hall." Lovino, with shaking legs, gathered his numb body and walked to the door. Panic flashed through him at the sight of the silver door handle but he grabbed it with an annoyed hand and stepped from the room.

Moments later, the teacher appeared from the classroom and looked to Lovino with a sympathetic smile.

"I know you sleep in my class, Lovino. And I would be upset if your grades suffered from it, but they do not. But, please, I cannot permit the outbursts." Lovino kept his head down in embarrassment, the shame warming his face unpleasantly.

"I'm sending you home, Lovino. I'll send an email your last period teacher, and I have your things gathered," she handed him his dark red draw string bag and patted his head. Lovino watched her retreating form indubiously but shrugged, walking out of the school building.

Since Feliciano needed the car, Lovino decided to walk home. The day was still chilly, even though the noon sun had come and gone. With every breeze that whispered through the trees, goose flesh shivered its way across Lovino's skin.

Carried on the frozen winds were queer whispers dancing about Lovino's ears. He would hear them, stop his stomping through the leaves, and listen intently for any signs of a follower. When he deemed his tail untailed, he resumed his walk home again.

Lovino was unsure if he was losing his mind, but, when he would stop to listen to the whispers, glimpses of green would whoosh by his peripheral vision, giving him a fright. His breathing began to increase and he felt his heart beat just a bit harder in his chest.

As the wind blew again, Lovino began walking faster, not stopping to listen to the sounds that he once deemed violent whispers. He was sure now that the noises were not whispers, but a metallic mirror of his own rapid panting.

The sky, once milky and gray, began to darken with quickly rolling, angry clouds of a burnt color. Lovino glanced up nervously towards the sky and elongated his stride again.

"Damn dream," he whispered, pulling his collar to his chin, "Making me see weird shit." He stomped around a sharp, tree lined corner and his world came to an abrupt stop. Lovino stumbled backwards a few steps, lost his footing, and landed hard on his cold rump.

"What the hell?" Lovino rubbed a sore nose and glared up at the figure shadowing him. A shallow and wheezing intake of breath accompanied by the rise and fall of the figure's upper body set Lovino's eyes wide. He scrambled to his feet, scraping his smooth, under worked palm against the cement, and took off with a sprinter's speed across the street, nearly loosing his legs by a speeding car.

As he was running, a grip like iron cast its self around the upper part of Lovino's arm, popping his humeral head out of the glenoid fossa with a sickening sound. He let out a womanish shriek, more from the sound and fear, and less from the burning pain. A hand gently pressed between his shoulder blades, and pushed his arm with a hard shove back into place.

Lovino, with bleary eyes, turned his head back, catching a glimpse of golden hair before his chip was painfully gripped and forced forward. Deep red eyes glared through Lovino's own frightened, angry orbs.

"You Lovino," asked the distant voice produced by the rusted metal respirator on the man's face. Lovino nodded the best his restricted head could and the fingers pressing into his cheeks dug in even deeper, causing Lovino to grimace.

Being as close to the man as he was, Lovino was able to trace the rust flakes covering the mask with his eyes. He followed the edge where metal met skin and felt his heart drop in his chest. The mask was held to the man's skin by thick leather stitches that sagged with age, pulling the man's skin down. The flesh under his eyes drooped, the tender skin glistening like his eyes.

The grip on Lovino's arm disappeared, the hand reappearing against his waist. A familiar voice whispered against his ear.

"I'm glad we found you, mon petite lapin." Lovino shifted his hips to the side, trying to escape the feeling of the hand on his waist. The sound of crunching leaves reached Lovino's ears and stole his attention. The man holding his face let go, leaving red marks in Lovino's sore cheeks.

Lovino first turned to the sound of crunching leaves, eyes spying the green eyed figure that bore into his dream. He backed up a step and pulled his arms close to his face. Fear shook his body for a moment, rendering him stuck in place.

Once he stared at the face watching him intently for a moment, he began to notice odd things. He noticed the faint scar just above the right eye, and the plump lips bound together by dark thread.

The eyes were narrowed at Lovino, calculating every twitch of his muscles and flick of his hair in the breeze. Lovino narrowed his in response. He knew those eyes.

"Antonio?" Antonio nodded, then looked to his friends, nodding again. Then, Antonio spread his arms wide in a flourish of dark fabric, wrapping himself around Lovino's body. His world became incased in black.

"We finally got our third kid."

"We have, and we worked so hard. Baba would be pleased."

"Antonio? Are you sure you want to give her the kid?"

"Alright then."

Lovino let out a groan and the voices grew silent. He could feel their eyes on his straining back as he struggled to lift his sore body off of the ground. His own dark eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, and he groaned again to mirror the sound of his protesting bones.

Rolling his cracking body over, Lovino stared with narrow eyes at the trio. One component stared back with uninterested rubies, and another with calculating emeralds.

"You're awake, eh?" The light haired man, Gilbert, if Lovino's mind was serving him well, asked. Lovino stared at the man dumbly.

"Such an obvious question, Gilbert," the blond, Francis, spoke, leaning his elbow against his raised knee. Gilbert pulled his eyebrows together and lifted his cheek as if he were straining his stretched skin into a scowl.

Lovino found himself bored with the other two and chose to investigate the silent man whose eyes had never left Lovino's lying form. Antonio stared bluntly, his eyes shining in the dusty air, green orbs intent on the rise and fall of Lovino chest.

Lovino felt unsettled by the hunger in Antonio's eyes, but a flutter rose in his lungs. He felt his glare faltering and his heart beating faster. The conversation droning in the background became silent once again, the two other men watching the wordless exchange.

"You know, Antonio," wheezed Gilbert, " you could just take the boy for yourself. We can always get another kid." Antonio shifted his eyes to his snowy haired friend. He swirled a pointed finger in the dust filled air, writing letters in the choppy light.

'I-W-A-N-T-H-I-M.'

Gilbert nodded. Lovino, his bleary eyes unable to decipher what the man's fingers had spelled, grunted.

"I want an explanation, now damn it. Why am I here?" Lovino sat up, scowling at the three men. Francis turned his head back to Lovino, stretched eyelids not hiding the hollow eye sockets.

"Baba Yaga likes children," said Francis, a smile in his voice.

"She likes to take things from them," Gilbert added. Lovino looked at him with question in his eyes.

"She took my beautiful eyes," Francis said while he wiped a finger under his empty socket to symbolize a tear. Gilbert rolled his own, to which Antonio gave a small smile and a rush of amused air from his nose.

"The witch took my diaphragm. I can barely speak now, and I haven't eaten properly in a year. If I take this thing off my face, I die. It blows."

"So, what happened to Antonio," asked Lovino as he motioned with his head towards the man across from him. Gilbert looked towards his friend sadly.

"She took his tongue and sewed his mouth shut, like my eyelids," spoke Francis.

"Well then," Lovino began, "what does this all have to do with me?"

"If we help her get more children," said Gilbert in his thin voice.

"She returns the things she stole," finished Francis. Lovino frowned, feeling a squick of fear rising in his stomach. He pushed his legs under himself and stood.

"Let me go, you bastards! I don't want to get messed up by some old hag." Antonio stood at this, his long legs reaching Lovino in less than two steps. He took the boy's shoulders in a vice grip, his fingers digging into Lovino's flesh. He flinched at the pain radiating from Antonio's hands.

"You're lucky, Lovino," said Francis, "You know Antonio has a devilish fancy for you." Antonio leaned his face closer to Lovino's, the hands on his shoulders tightening.

All of the sudden, a door slammed open, and a black mist swelled into the room. Lovino turned his head quickly to the door while Antonio pressed his face in the boy's cheek. A sweeping dress entered the room, its dark fabrics covering the body of a hunched woman. Her face was decrepit and drooped with age.

"Ah," she exclaimed, "A new one, and so cute too." The woman approached Lovino, but Antonio jerked him away. A look of surprise morphed the woman's old face. Then, a hand jutted out from her black cloak, the wrinkled fingers reaching out to caress the stitches on Antonio's lips.

"Do you not want to restore your voice, son?" Antonio nodded. She smiled.

"Then hand over the boy to Baba Yaga," she said. Antonio shook his head, pushing Lovino behind himself. Baba Yaga sighed and shook her head slowly.

"If not this one, than another of equal value." Antonio nodded viscously, his chocolate curls bouncing. Baba turned from him to face Francis and Gilbert.

"You two, your picks were acceptable, come with me and you shall be whole once again." A sly smile was present on her thin lips as she lead them from the room. As she left, the door slammed shut with a jarring noise.

Antonio looked behind him to find a fuming Italian with fists clenched at his sides.

"' Another of equal value'? That bitch! I'm not property," Lovino practicaly yelled, his body shaking in anger. Antonio placed a hand against Lovino's cheek, and Lovino snapped at him.

"What?" Antonio flinched his hand away, then regained purchase on the boy's smooth face. With his other hand, he drew letters against Lovino's opposite cheek.

'H-U-S-H.' The touches were feather light and left Lovino's flesh tingling. Lovino closed him mouth and drew his eyebrows together.

'I- H-A-V-E-M-I-S-S-E-D-Y-O-U.' Lovino stared at the man for a silent moment then grumbled,

"I missed you too... Bastard."

'K-I-S-S-M-E-?' Antonio had a hopeful look dancing about his eyes that was crushed when Lovino shook his head in a fashion the said 'no'. He let go of Lovino's cheek, replacing his hand with his own cheek. Lovino pushed him back, storming away from the man with loud stomps as his face rose in temperature. He sat on in a large window box seat.

Antonio sat on the ground next to the box, leaning his head on Lovino's thigh, receiving an unhappy grumble. In that position did Antonio fall asleep, head propped up by a thigh, rear end numbed by the floor, and fluttering chest watched by a pair of hazel eyes.

Lovino sighed, waiting anxiously for Baba Yaga to return with Antonio. The duo had left more than three hours past, leaving Lovino alone with Francis and Gilbert. The two boys were restored to their former glory. Gilbert rejoiced verbally with his new and strong diaphragm, finally able to speak in a tone that he deemed to fit his large Prussian pride. Francis took in every sight he could, though there was nothing more to see in the dingy room other than dust and a gaudy blanket.

As Gilbert sat, reciting any story and song he knew, Lovino paced. He had his arms tightly wrapped around himself as his mind fought to calm his worried body. Francis eyed him intensely from the other side of the room. He walked over to the pacing boy and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You shouldn't worry, mon petit Lovino, he will be fine," said Francis with a reassuring smile. Lovino studied the man's smiling face, noticing the faint scars resting behind light eyelashes. His eyelids seemed to hang lower than what was natural, but other than that, no blight could be found on his skin.

On Gilbert's face, though, the scars were more prominent. Multiple small, crescent shaped pale red lines dotted a path from one point under his ear, over the bump of his nose, and down under his other ear. He would occasionally run his fingers over the scars, almost as if he was trying to prove to himself that his face was free.

A sudden creaking noise drew Lovino's attention to the door, the large wooden panel opening slowly, the black smoke languidly rolling into the room. From the inky fog, a long legged figure appeared. A happy laugh followed the entrance of the figure.

"Ahh... Lovino, Lovino," called Antonio, "My voice! I missed it, it is so pretty!" Lovino placed his face in the palm of his hand and Antonio walked towards him. He spoke rapid fire, stretching his lips, bearing his teeth, puckering his mouth. He lolled his tongue about his mouth, rolling it occasionally as he spoke.

Antonio wrapped his arm around Lovino's waist, mouth still spewing words, sometimes English, sometimes Spanish, and sometimes dipping into some incomprehensible syllables that meant nothing. Baba Yaga emerged from her rolling fog and cleared her throat.

"I assume you four would like to leave," asked the decrepit woman. Antonio looked at her, mouth silent for the first time since stepping into the room and eyes sharp.

"We would very much like to leave," said Francis. Baba Yaga nodded, then turned, the fog opening wide with long, ribbon like fingers beckoning them to follow. Gilbert and Francis were out of the musty room in no time, but Lovino was anxious to follow them into the ominous blackness of the hall. Antonio impelled him forward with his arm and gave a reassuring nod.

The pair walked through the dark halls, following the barely noticeable shock of white hair that belonged to Gilbert. A wide door was opened, light flooding the hall. One by one, they all exited the squat house and stood on an old wooden porch. Lovino swiveled his head fully around but could only find tall trees and the stained siding of the aged home.

"Well, boys," Baba Yaga clapped her fragile looking hands together, " I have enjoyed being your tormenter but, regrettably, I am a woman bound by my word." She gave each boy a nod, a few stray strands of her wispy hair escaping the hood of her cloak. Then, she walked into the house and the door slammed shut with a hollow bang.

The boys looked at each other in confusion for a moment, the Gilbert shrugged, threw his arms wide and yelled with all the might his lungs could offer,

"Freedom!" Francis smiled with a small 'Freedom' of himself, and Antonio hollered after Gilbert, all three boys stomping down the broken steps leading to the porch. Lovino walked much slower, not appreciating the sweet taste of a delayed release.

A strange feeling krept its way up Lovino's spine, and he turned to face the house, only to find that only a hollow, treeless space took its place.

"Hey guys," Lovino called, bring the hoopping boys to a sudden halt, "The house is, uh, gone."

"Good fucking riddance," shrugged Gilbert. Lovino did a quick jog to catch up with the laughing trio. He walked behind them with his arms crossed to fight against the chilled wind. Antonio noticed this and wrapped his arm around the shorter boy's shoulder.

"You know, we probably wont be able to go home," said Lovino with a sad sigh. Francis looked back at him, pulling the edges of his lips back and shrugging.

"We probably wont have normal lives either," the blond said in response.

"Doesn't matter," spoke Antonio, " At least we're whole again." Antonio flashed a bright smile.

"It is fairly hard to lead a normal life when you're dead, though, don't you think," asked Gilbert, to which Lovino choked on his own spit. Antonio gave Gilbert the dirtiest glare he could muster then squeezed Lovino's shoulder.

"You fuckers are dead?" Antonio nodded sadly. Gilbert and Francis each gave a quick nod.

Lovino shrieked, eyes wide and body struggling to free its self from Antonio's grasp. Antonio wrapped both arms around the flailing boy and tried to sooth his frightened yelling.

"Calm down," Antonio cooed, "Shush." Lovino sat on the leave covered ground, body rocking and heart pounding in fear. Much of Lovino's blood fled his brain as scared adrenalin rushed through his veins causing Lovino to faint.

Antonio held the limp body in his arms, glaring at his friend who smiled sheepishly while rubbing the back of his head.

"I hate you, Gilbert."