Shades of Innocence (A GerIta FanFic)

Chapter 17

Feliciano thought he felt Antonio's hand on his shoulder but he couldn't be sure. His entire body had gone completely numb, completely confounded, he wasn't sure if he was just having an incredibly lucid dream or if this was indeed reality. Ludwig, his beautiful Ludwig had escaped from the prison, he was on the run...and police had been ordered to shoot him if they saw him...

"Feliciano, are you okay?" Antonio murmured softly into the silence, giving his shoulder a firm shake.

Feliciano nodded numbly. "...hm." the Italian couldn't be sure whether he'd actually vocalised whatsoever. He couldn't think how he could possibly connect his brain to his lips in order to get them to move, or to produce any sound. The television was still blaring, shouting at him from the floor in front of them, it was just a muffled echo to Feliciano who swallowed heavily, his heart beating a slow, uneasily rhythm against his ribcage. On screen the newsreader had vanished and was replaced by another, more cheerful face who was telling the viewers about the storm of rain that would be hitting the town tonight. Antonio was squeezing down on his shoulder again, trying with great intensity to get the young man to speak; after a few solid minutes of staring blankly at the television screen Feliciano shifted himself away from his friend, slowly shaking his head.

"...I, I think I need to go to bed..." Feliciano managed to croak out softly as he began edging himself backwards towards the kitchen.

Antonio switched off the television before he cautiously followed the young man; the Italian had never thought he'd seen the Spaniard's look of sympathy ever so prominent on his face. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on Feliciano, his brows furrowed with deep concentration and concern as they moved slowly back through the kitchen and into the small corridor adjacent. Feliciano's back eventually met his bedroom door and he slipped inside hurriedly and shut the door before the Spaniard could follow him any further. After what he thought must of been a moment's hesitation, he heard the older man move, disappearing through the backdoor of their apartment and trekking quietly downstairs to join his partner in their cafe.

Once alone, Feliciano leant himself up against the closed door of his bedroom with his eyes wide open, his lips quivering ever so slightly. His room was dark and felt strangely cold around him; the heavy rain splattered his window outside behind him and the Italian thought he could hear the soft rumble of thunder in the distance. Feliciano's hands found his messy fringe and he clung tightly, twisting and curling his fingers into his hair to desperately distract himself from the infinitive number of dark and horrendous thoughts that were flashing across his mind.

Every scenario that revolved in his head involved Ludwig in some way. Ludwig lying face down on the side of the road after being knocked over by a police car...Ludwig lying in a pool of his own blood after being shot at by any number of armed police officers...Ludwig being attacked by a member of the public who recognised him from the news story and had gone berserk...each and every vision involved the German's gory end. There couldn't possibly be any chance of the man getting away unharmed; the police had been given permission to shoot and Feliciano knew that they wouldn't hesitate to do so. The Italian felt sick, his stomach hadn't been churning this badly since his early days in the prison. The young man suddenly pushed himself away from his door and began pacing frantically back and forth about his small bedroom, his hands still weaved into his hair.

What had Ludwig been thinking? What on earth had the man been thinking!? Escaping from prison! Was he really that idiotic? Did he not realise how unbelievably serious escaping from prison is? That they'd stop at nothing until they'd hunted him down!? Killed him!? Feliciano couldn't even comprehend his insane actions, he kept trying in vain hope to believe that there had been a mistake, that Ludwig had been in the prison the whole time and that the guards had just miscounted...but out of his bedroom window a small glow in the not too far off distance, a helicopter was shining a beam of light down onto the streets below as it flew through the sky, searching. The Italian let out a soft whimper and sunk onto his bed, head in hands and rocking slowly back and forth.