Suicide isn't the answer guys. I've had family kill themselves, and they should have known how it would have effected our community. She was popular, pretty, and an overall sweet girl. But after her boyfriend left her she just up and killed herself. She was only 14. It hit us hard, my whole family was in this state of mourning, and even I was feeling the effects, only having met Sydney a handful of times. To be honest though, it really pissed me off. I understand that she was hurting, but what she did was unacceptable, she had so many people who cared about her and loved her, and she threw it all away because of one guy. There's always someone who cares, even when you feel like no one does.

Rain pounded on the window outside, the dark sky brightening with the constant flashing of lightning. Each time a crack ripped through the air, a shiver ran down the spine of the Italian in his room, all of the lights turned off, sitting alone on his bed. He wasn't shuddering from the universal fear of lightning, he didn't even understand why so many people were terrified of the beam of light, stretching from cloud to could, and then from cloud to ground, he found it to be phenomenal and beautiful. The tremors going down his back were either of excitement, or anguish, it was something he couldn't decide.

How long had he been alone in this world? It seemed like it had been since forever, Feliciano never had any time for his brother anymore, he was always with his asshole boyfriend, and little Japanese friend. Every Saturday night, it was always the same, "Fratello! I'm going out with Luddy and Kiku!" Lovino never replied, just continued on with what he was doing, ignoring the younger boy standing in the doorway, watching him expectedly, pining away for the affection that Lovino never had the heart to give.

He wanted to be someone Feliciano was proud to call his brother, but at the same time he could care less, no matter what he did he felt it wouldn't be enough.

Lovino couldn't change who he was, a "Cynical dickwad", as he was called by Feliciano's boyfriend's brother, his regular tormenter. Even if he pretended to be just like his brother, it was too late, Lovino had already gained the negative reputation of an asshole, causing people to shy away from him, the only time he was ever approached at school was if it was Sadiq and Gilbert, aiming for an adrenaline high from kicking him around, Francis trying to get into his pants, or that bastard Antonio, who was a dumbass and full of shit, always claiming Lovino was his favorite to his face, but constantly hanging on Feliciano's shoulder whenever he came into view, or leaving Lovino behind at first chance possible.

When things had reached an all time low, Lovino would stand outside in the woods behind the house he lived in with Feliciano and his grandfather. His parents had left him and his brother with their mother's father for a weekend, or what was supposed to be a weekend, and never returned years ago. They sent his grandfather an email after awhile, explaining that the kids weren't planned, and were unwanted. Their grandfather fed and clothed them both, but his favorite was always Feliciano, and it showed constantly.

Lovino would stare in the distance, wishing he could just run away from it all, the throbbing pain from the bruises he acquired every other day after school, the empty feeling in his chest, and the mysteries of what the next day would bring.

Headaches were common for him, as were the chronic pain that riddled his entire being, sometimes so much so that he couldn't even force himself out of the bed in the morning. His bones would crack every time he moved with great effort that he hadn't wanted to use, and all he'd want to do was sleep, which he couldn't even be graced with that.

The loneliness was constant. It didn't matter whether he was in a giant group of people at a party, or by himself at home. His mind was tearing itself apart, trying to figure out just what the hell was wrong with him.

What was wrong with him?

Why did everyone hate him so much?

What's his fucking problem?

Why doesn't anyone in the world care?

What did he do to deserve this?

Why was he even born?

It had been a long time since Lovino had been happy. Nothing had bothered him, when he was a kid he would play with Feliciano, and Feliciano only. Antonio lived next door, and would come over to play with them. Lovino would pretend that he never enjoyed it, but he always did secretly. All the other kids were stupid, and annoying, like his brother, but he could get over that. He used to smile, but the only one who ever was there to witness it was his brother, and occasionally Antonio.

Lovino felt as if he had fallen into a deep hole, it was possible to claw his way back to the top, but the people surrounding him had coated the sides in butter, wishing for him to stay down there for all eternity. If he looked closely, he could pick out their faces. Feliciano, his grandfather, Antonio, Gilbert, Francis, his parents, and everyone he knew from school, like that bastard Roderich and his girlfriend Elizabeta, and the crazy America and his boyfriend with giant eyebrows.

For a while, he just felt numb. All he had wanted to do was sleep, because when he was sleeping he could forget that he was alive. He had been curious as to whether or not he could still feel pain, so he had taken to dragging a blade across his wrist, leaving a clean cut in its wake, and was genuinely surprised when it was revealed that it actually did hurt, and he liked it.

He was so lonely, and no one could see it. He was drowning in the emotion, it pulling him under, him crying for help, half of the time not even sure if he wanted it. There was no escape that he could see, no one willing to reach down and pull him out of the darkness and into the light, where everything would be okay.

The house was silent, Feliciano had gone to a party that Lovino hadn't been informed of, and if the posts on Facebook were true, everyone from school was there, and having a great time. Feliciano had just posted a picture of him, Antonio, and Francis, all of them close together and smiling at the shitty camera on Feliciano's phone.

Lovino shook his head in disgust, not even understanding why he was on the damn social website, he only had an account because Feliciano had made him one. He shoved his laptop off his lap roughly, clicking his tongue in distaste when it fell apart upon contact with the ground.

Why was he still here? He didn't know. Nothing was keeping him tethered down, so why not go? It'd be an escape, after all.

Maybe, in the afterlife, he wouldn't be alone.

Feliciano might be upset, but he'd get over it. He had Ludwig, Kiku, and Antonio, he'd be just fine.

"Antonio, huh?" Lovino whispered quietly to himself, shaking his head. The cute Spaniard would most definitely be angry at him, but like Feliciano, he'd get over it eventually.

He realized that he would actually miss them.

"There's my reason to stay." He thought frowning. "But me missing them isn't enough."

Antonio was far from drunk. A little tipsy, yes, but someone had to drive home, and he had no problem taking up that responsibility.

He and Feliciano had already dropped off Francis and Gilbert (read: kicked them out of the car) and were leaning just against his shiny red Ford F150 in Antonio's driveway, just chit chatting about life.

It had been raining earlier, but it had cleared up considerably, the clouds finally parting and revealing the beautifully glowing moon.

Antonio and Feliciano admired it fondly, their conversation about Ludwig and Gilbert coming to an end. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, it being broken a few minutes later by Feliciano.

"Ve~ I should go check on Lovi, he's been kind of sad lately, I wonder if making him pasta will cheer him up?"

Lovino Vargas, the feisty Italian who held Antonio's heart in his palms. His childhood crush on his neighbor had grown over the years, transforming into unconditional love that Antonio figured was unrequited. The very thought of him brought a smile to Antonio's face, his features lighting up, but his smile faded as quickly as it came.

"Mi tomate is sad?" Antonio's face expressed all the confusion he was harboring inside. "Now that I think about it, I haven't seen Lovi since like, last week!" He gasped, "I'll take him some tomatoes and hang out with him tomorrow~" he decided, waving to Feliciano as he walked across the stretch of grass in between their houses, pulling out his set of keys and unlocking the door.

Antonio decided to do the same, entering his home and plopping down on the plush couch in front of the T.V, turning it on and flicking through the hundreds of channels. After failing to find a halfway decent show, he gave up and made his way over to the kitchen, grabbing a home grown tomato out of the bowl on the counter and munching on it happily.

He drummed his fingers on the marble counter, contemplating what to do next. It was rather late, and Francis and Gilbert were both trashed, so calling them would prove fruitless. They most they could provide was entertainment for a few moments before they passed out.

Antonio turned the half eaten tomato over in his hands, thinking his hardest. He could go over and see if Lovino was still awake, and if he was hang out with him a bit. He glanced at the analog clock on the wall and cringed, it was three thirty in the morning, so Lovino would have been asleep for a while.

The teenager sighed, running out of options.

"I could get on the computer and check Facebook—" he thought, but was interrupted by a fierce banging on his front door, the sound echoing through his nearly empty home.

Antonio's parents were never keen on furnishing their house completely; they just got the basics, so the house wasn't nearly as cluttered as were many others on the same street. Said parents were out for the weekend, with Feliciano and Lovino's grandfather, and Gilbert's. They were all surprisingly close, and had opted out of hanging out with their families over the weekend, choosing instead to relax at the beach, leaving all of the teenagers to their own devices.

The banging had startled the brunette, and he had dropped his tomato out of surprise. What was left of it splattered onto the once spotless counter, the seeds and juices spreading in every direction. Antonio frowned at the mess he'd have to clean up later; he had cleaned far too much in his lifetime, if you asked him.

He made his way over to the wooden door that someone was attacking maliciously. He rested his hands on it, feeling the vibrations from the rough slams run up his palms as he peeked through the peephole.

Surprisingly, the person on the other side of the door was Feliciano.

Antonio could sense his distress, and he felt fear flare up inside his core. The expression on the Italian's face was heartbreaking.

He wrenched the door open quickly, Feliciano not expecting it and falling over the threshold mid-bang. Luckily, Antonio stuck out his arms, catching the younger Italian and saving him from a fall that would most likely leave a horrid bruise somewhere on his body.

The sobs that were heaving out of Feliciano made the hair on the back of Antonio's neck and arms stand on end. Feliciano clutched Antonio's T-shirt as if it were his life line, tugging on it harshly. The soft fabric stretched slightly, and Antonio gripped Feliciano's wrists, forcing him to stop and look up at the Spaniard.

His eyes were puffy and red, big fat tears still leaking out of them. They left trails down his skin, tanned from being in the sun so constantly. Honey colored orbs bore into Antonio's green ones, the fear and grief in them tugging at Antonio's heartstrings.

Feliciano's mouth moved urgently, attempting to form words with no luck, only a strangled breath escaping his lips.

Antonio himself was having issues speaking. It felt like his heart was in his throat, and he had to speak around it. "Feliciano," he spoke, his voice shaking with stress, "what's wrong?"

Feliciano only shook his head roughly, grabbing Antonio's hand and pulling him out of the door, the cool night air becoming more prominent now that he was away from the heated house.

They ran across the dewy grass, approaching the Vargas home's front door, which was wide open, the doorknob lodged firmly into the wall because of the force that has tugged it open. Feliciano was plenty strong when he wished to be, which was why he was able to easily drag Antonio into his house and up the wooden staircase leading to the second floor, where the bedrooms resided.

A heavy feeling hung in the air, pressing down on the duo, making Antonio want to crumple to his knees and stay there, paralyzed, but he was forced to move with the terrified Italian. Feliciano paused in front of Lovino's doorway, his door's wood was cracked, and the lock had been ripped from its place, a sign that it had been kicked in rather harshly, most likely by Feliciano.

Antonio peered into the dark room; his gaze drifting over the empty bed, to the walls covered in red wallpaper, the laptop missing desk pushed up against one corner, and said laptop, in pieces on the ground next to the bed. There was no sign of Lovino.

A metallic smell leaked out of the room as if it were a poisonous gas, the scent burning Antonio's nostrils, and to be frank, terrifying him to no end. He was familiar with the smell, it would appear whenever he accidentally nicked his finger while peeling a tomato, or whenever he fell and skidded his knees and palms. It was the smell of the crimson liquid that somewhat resembled his beloved tomatoes, but not quite.

Fear was a powerful emotion. It could easily change a person; make them timid, or violent. Being scared was a natural emotion, but being downright terrified is only felt by a person a few instances in their lifetime, and it was always an unforgettable moment in time. A memory that stuck with a person throughout their entire life.

This was the second time that Antonio had felt this way.

The first time was many years ago. He was playing with Feliciano and Lovino in their yards, playing football. Feliciano and Lovino had teamed up against the older boy, and they were having tons of fun. Antonio was playing all positions while Feliciano was goalie and defense, Lovino playing everything else.

He had almost gotten the ball into the goal, but Feliciano had blocked, instead of kicking the ball to Lovino, though, his miscalculated and sent it into the street. Antonio had raced after it, intent on reclaiming control of the ball, not noticing the oncoming car.

He had stared in shock at the speeding hunk of metal, approaching him fast at sixty miles per hour. The speed limit wasn't nearly that high, and Antonio wondered to this day what possessed the driver to speed through a children at play zone.

He would have died if not for Lovino's quick thinking. The small boy had burst into the street and knocked Antonio out of harm's way, and landed on top of his elder as the car sped by.

He had never been so scared in his life, he had thought both he, and Lovino were going to meet their ends in the middle of a football game.

Antonio hesitantly stepped into Lovino's seemingly deserted room, glancing around anxiously. Feliciano pushed past him, walking to the far side of Lovino's bed and kneeling down there, staring at something unseen.

He followed him, his feet making no noise on the carpet, the only sound in the room was his beating heart, thumping loudly in his chest, pushing against his rib cage, it's beating becoming almost painful.

He rounded the corner of the bed, the sight that greeted him made the blood in Antonio's veins turn to ice, and his heart skip a beat.

A beautiful Italian teen lay on the ground, trails of crimson streaking from his sliced wrists, faint identical scars trailing up his arms.

His head rested in Feliciano's lap, Feliciano having moved him. Upon his face, there was a small smile, and he looked the most at peace since years ago, when Lovino had become increasingly distant, snapping more often, and choosing to be alone in his room rather than with Antonio and Feliciano.

Beside the bloody switchblade resting on the carpet, there was a piece of paper. The words on the front brought tears to his eyes.

Feliciano, I'm sorry I wasn't the brother you deserved.

Antonio, I love you.

He flipped the page over with shaking fingers, wondering if there was anything on the back. What was written on the paper shattered what was left of Antonio's broken heart.

I don't want to be alone any more.

For those of youwho read my other fic, Decisions, I mentioned that I was going to write this. And I did. As you can see.

So, during the blackout on Saturday, I spent my time writing this, because I had nothing better to do. I had written all of Lovino's part and some of Antonio's before going to bed that night around midnight. I was reading fanfiction on my iPod when I was pleased to hear the familiar ding that informs me of an email, which I associate with updates, reviews, etc.

However, I was NOT pleased to see an email from FF telling me that my letter fic was taken down.

I was also not pleased to learn that my account was suspended for three days.

This shit just got personal, and now I'm 100% joining FF Authors VS FF . net

I was beyond pissed. I hadn't even updated in months, so idk how the fic was even found.

In other news, I learned I might be attending Ancient City Con next month, which is nice.

I'm also going on vacation on the 30th for a week at Tybee for the 4th of July. So no updates, and I probably won't get to upload the oneshot I had planned, unless I get in gear and write it. It was going to be celebrating Canada and America's birthday.

So I'll be celebrating Canada Day, the Season 4 Dub release, and the 4th of July all by myself.

On the upside to this vacation, I will return super tan and newly acquainted with a large number of people who go with us to the beach. Yay.

And that's it. I think.

Oh yes.

If ANY of you guys are considering hurting yourself because you feel like no one cares, or you just hate yourself, or your just depressed for no reason, you can talk to me about it. I know how fucking hard it is to talk to someone about it, I was literally dragged to the counselor at my school after I hit rock bottom, and even then I tried my hardest to get away from the nurse who had pulled me out of class and informed me she was bringing me to the counselor, because I had been having random crying fits all day and one of my classmates ratted me out to her.

As I had assumed before, after the counselor finally got me to say anything to her, her words of encouragement and advice didn't do shit. I had to help myself through my own problems.

So please, PLEASE don't just bottle everything up and keep to yourself, because it's dangerous and can turn out badly, if you want to talk to someone that's not paid to talk to you and hasn't been in your shoes, you can talk to me, I'll promise I'll listen and try to help however I can.

~Ayai