A/N: I'M BACK BABY! AND I'M SOOOOOOOOO SORRY FOR ABANDONING THIS STORY FOR A YEAR, AAAAHHHH! Okay, now that's out of my system and I can truly deliver a sorry because I really haven't touched this story in such a long time and I'm pretty sure I have no excuse for why I didn't update such a good story. Or at least I think it's good. Hopefully you readers are still around and not all upset at me too bad. Eheheh...

*dodges pots, pans and tables* Okay, I really am sorry and I WILL continue this until the end, you have my word.

Now then, here is the long awaited chapter of this poor old fic. Sorry if it's weak since I'm getting back into the swing of things.

Lovino scowled as he cleaned his hands in the kitchen sink. Towels were strewn about the floor along with a discarded jacket of his. He had protested all the while against having to clean the blood but Matthew continuously insisted he help him, fixing him with a smile. He grumbled and reluctantly obeyed in the cleaning. Now here he was, wiping his hands clean with a clean towel and wiping his forward of any sweat. Footsteps sounded out from behind him but he didn't look back as he set the towel down.

"You finished?"

"Yes I am. I tucked away his body in a more secure place in the basement along with Kumajiro. Hopefully they're more cozy."

Lovino's eye twitched at that last remark. He was still getting used to the Matthew's new found insanity. He nodded in reply and watched as he picked up the bloody towels, tossing them in a nearby box. After that, he went over to the sink to wash his own hands. Lovino makes his way to the living room, peering around for any trace on blood.

"He really did a good job on cleaning.."

Plopping down on the couch, the Italian let his mind wander to the past. He wondered how Antonio and his father were doing, a bitter taste in his mouth when he remembered the terms of how he had left and not returned. He couldn't bear to think of Feliciano, fists clenching at the mere mention of the bouncy Italian. A small part of him wished he could see them again on different terms not filled with pain and venomous rage. That part also made him feel afflicted at how he had killed Kiku so coldly. The quiet male never did anything to him and he could say they were on acquaintance terms. But when he jeopardized their schemes, he had no choice but to kill him.

Yet it still sickened him.

He pushed the thought away though in favor of thinking of other things.

Matthew soon appeared in the living room, wiping his hands with a fresh towel and regarding Lovino with a curious eye.

"Is there something wrong Lovino?"

"Bah. Nothing's wrong, just thinking about some stuff."

"Like?"

"Just stuff Matthew. It's none of your concern."

"Okay, I was just worried about you, seeing as you had to deal with so much blood."

The Italian raised a brow and shook his head before looking at the blank television. How Matthew could be so nonchalant about the fact that he just brutally murdered one of his closest friends and his pet was beyond the Italian's comprehension. He had no room to speak of course, seeing as he snapped Kiku's neck and slit a mugger's throat. He was quiet for a moment, allowing the new death to sink in and speaking up only when he saw it was the right time.

"So this time there won't be a body to find?"

Matthew sighed regrettably, "As much as I would love to let Gilbert have a nice burial, I can't dump his body somewhere as easily as Kiku's. He'll just have to remain missing.."

Lovino grunted in response, sparing the basement door another glance and relaxing into the couch with a sigh. Matthew glimpsed at him from the corner of his eye, humming a small tune before speaking up.

"Are you ever going to go back to your own home, Lovino?"

He hadn't meant it in an offensive or rude way. He was wondering if the other would stay away from his own home permanently without another word or visit to his family. Lovino snorted with distaste as he glared at the wall, thinking over the question. He had no reason to return, but a sliver of him still felt as though he should visit them. The other part of himself wanted to see Feliciano, but mainly to exact revenge. One that he would soon exhibit when given the chance.

"Don't worry. I will."

He whipped out his switchblade, twirling it casually.

"And when I do visit my home, it won't just be to say hello. I can guarantee that."

"I just don't know what to do now. His funeral had been nearly a week ago and I understand that the pain is quite hard to just allow its fading. But Alfred has grown so tense and angry and you have no idea how much that frightens me."

"Oh dear..I see. Well I understand Alfred's feelings over this. So much has happened over little time."

Arthur sighed, agreement pricking at the back of his head as he spoke to Francis. He peered over his shoulder at Alfred whom was tapping his foot rapidly on the ground with his fingers entwined over his mouth. He was muttering angrily with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. Arthur shook his head in slight sorrow at the American's fury.

Although he had his reasons to be upset, this sudden change on attitude caused him dismay.

"Angleterre.."

The Englishman had to hold off a snarky comment at the silly nickname Francis tended to call him on occasions.

"Keep an eye on him. Don't let him do anything stupid."

Arthur paused at the serious tone that his friend had used when he said that. He gripped the phone a tad tighter and glanced at Alfred once more before sighing again. He would be sure to watch over him and make sure he really didn't do anything that would get him harmed. If that happened, he'd never forgive himself.

"Alright. I'll be sure to keep an eye on him."

"That's good to hear. I have to go now however, I need to check on Matthew later. He's been a little strange for quite some time."

"Of course. And Francis?"

"Oui?"

"..Thanks for easing my worries."

"It was nothing. I'll talk to you later."

With another goodbye, Arthur hung up and set the phone in its cradle, glancing behind him and biting his lip as he made his way over to him. He sat by Alfred who hadn't taken notice of his presence and reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder. Alfred seemed to have been so deep in thought that he jumped slightly at the touch. His eyes soon directed to Arthur with a curious glint. He could see the worry in his features.

"What's up?"

"..Well you just seemed so distant and I wanted to make sure you were alright."

The American averted his eyes, biting his lip and weakly glaring at his clenched hands. It's been quite some time since his friend's demise but he still boiled over it and wanted nothing more than to smash the killer's face in. But he had no leads and said killer could be long gone now. So he merely had to sit here and stew over still open wounds. But Arthur was so concerned and he didn't want the other to dote let alone become stressed, so he smiled faintly at him.

"No, it's okay. I'm getting better!"

It was a blatant lie and they both knew that.

But Arthur wouldn't call him out on it for now. He merely reached over and held Alfred's hand, squeezing it comfortingly and resting his head on his shoulder. They shared a worthwhile silence, different things wandering through their minds.

Francis frowned as he set his phone down. It was true that there was a lot of trouble had gone on and he had a very unsettling feeling that something even worse had or will occur. He sighed and dialed another number, putting his ear to the receiver and tapping his foot as he waited.

But to no avail, the person did not answer their phone. Which in itself was a tad strange to the Frenchman.

"Bonte...Why isn't he picking up?" [1]

He tried again and only came across their voicemail. He eventually gave up after the fourth call, leaving a voice message.

"I'll be sure to pay him a visit after I go meet Matthew."

He went over to his coat rack, snagging a coat and leaving his home to go check up on his son.

A/N: Again, I'm so sorry for the long awaited update. I'm going to try to update once in a while and not a year. Ehehehe...