Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Warning: This story is mature due to the fact that it will eventually contain graphic violence and overall dark themes. No woohoo in this fanfic, sorry.
Inspiration: Wow, hmm. Well, I just thought this one up myself, which is probably why it's so unorganized, haha. But it was probably birthed by watching way too many old dramatic war movies.
Author's Note: There isn't much to say on this one. Please bear with me as I continue throwing random things in, as I have a tenancy to get off track / add more dramatic things to make the lives of the characters worse. If this happens, or if you know that I'm overdoing it, send me a hate review and I'll love you forever.
They walked down they cobblestone streets, one taking in the sounds while the other talked and laughed. It was a sunny day in Rouen, France - Ludwig could hardly believe that he was in the same exact city that he'd been in all the way back in 1944. Though the circumstances have changed since then, his feelings had not. The same guilt and self-loathing was stabbing him like a knife to the chest, one that hadn't been removed for six long years.
Gilbert spoke rather loudly in English, not heeding the glances he got here and there as he walks besides his brother, who was walking a dog and wearing darkly shaded glasses. The German's accent was barely noticeable, but hell, he'd been talking in English nearly all his life. And anyway, speaking Germany in northern France wasn't taken very lightly after the war. It was understandable.
"Hey, where's the food for the dog? He looks hungry. I don't think he ate anything since we boarded the train." At this, the canine halted and looked at the red-eyed man curiously, tongue lolling out happily. He was used to responding to 'dog' when it came to Gilbert. As soon as Aster, the dog, halted, Ludwig stopped curtly as well. Gilbert gave Aster a small frown and let his shoulder just lightly touch his brothers before walking on, sending all three of them once again at a fair pace.
"It should all be at the hotel. The man said everything would be there for when we arrive." Ludwig's voice was low, fearing that his more prominent German accent would be detected. His brother, still talking in his mock-American sounding English, brought a hand up casually to clasp the back of his neck.
"You don't have even any snacks on you?" How strange. Little brother always made sure to bring something for the dog during walks. Perhaps he just had a lot on his mind, and rightfully so.
The taller German kept his head aligned straight ahead as he made a small grunt that meant a simple 'no'.
"Well, we should grab some food somewhere for ourselves then!" Yet again, another subject. These days, though the topics may seem meaningless, none were discussed for very long. Gilbert would say something, Ludwig would respond, and that was that. Now that Aster had resumed to his usual controlling pace, Ludwig was suddenly more certain of his direction and felt confident enough to cease the brushing of shoulders. The feel of the ground underneath his feet was broken here and there from small spaces between the cobblestones and once and a while they could nearly taste the fresh bread in the air from one of the houses above them on the second floors.
There was no need for a reply from Ludwig this time; Gilbert knew well enough that neither of them had not had breakfast nor lunch. Hence, the Prussian grew quiet as he scanned each street for some sort of cafe or diner and shoved his hand into his pocket, causing his elbow to jab into Ludwig's side. He didn't bother to apologize, and the younger of the two didn't bother to move away.
The two brothers were in France because of something that Ludwig wanted to do. Or even multiple things if the right chances arose. His initial goal was to find a church somewhere in the outskirts of Rouen. Then afterwards, after they'd accomplished that, maybe he'd decide find those who he'd made suffer in the past. The sheer thought of it seemed impossible and terrifying, but it was a honest thought at at least trying to reach out to the ones whom his kind had terrorized in the all-too recent past. The blonde was ashamed of his intentions that he'd had when he was younger. Killing, hating, discriminating. Yes, he'd been a Nazi in the World War. However, he managed escaped the fate of becoming a prisoner of war from a deed that he'd done, and that deed was perhaps one of the two good things that he'd done in his entire life.
"Luddie, found a place!"
The blonde stopped curtly and waited for a moment, knowing that it was his brother's job to check the premises. Cramped areas didn't do any good for Ludwig, and that was for sure. He seemed to stare off at nothing as the world passed him and Aster by before Gilbert popped out of the diner and tugged at his younger brother's jacket. "S'alright. Now, let's go before I start roasting the dog!"
Aster looked up at the white-haired man yet again as if expecting something. Gilbert frowned once again at the canine, sighed, and tied his leash to a thin street lamp pole right in front of the diner windows before leading his brother into the quaint place. Inside, it was very... French. The place smelt of coffee and seasoned chicken, salmon and crapes, the chairs were small and comfortable looking and all of the tables were circular. It was rather nice, actually. There weren't many people in, and unlike some of the places in France, there were no obstacles in your path to curve around except the nicely spaced out tables. It seemed to be the perfect place for Ludwig, who was now absently scratching the top of Aster's head. "I'll have a cup of coffee."
Gilbert turned to his brother and gave a brisk nod, to himself of course. Ludwig wouldn't have seen it anyways. "Want to sit next to the window?"
"Any table will be fine."
Hence, off the red-eyed man went, scanning around before leading them all to an appropriate table, near the window where Aster was clear in sight, the dog wagging his tail happily to those two passed by. The Prussian tapped on the window but was not paid attention to by the dog - Aster was too involved with the petting he was suddenly receiving by a middle-aged woman carrying a basket.
After Ludwig sat down, Gilbert rubbed his hands a bit and quickly formed their schedule for the day, not bothering to sit down himself as he thought it all over. Well, first eat, then locate that fucking impossible to find hotel that the luggage was taken to, call Elizabeta to see if things were alright, get everybody cleaned up... and then? He shrugged it off. As the rest of the day went, he'd be sure to ask around for out-of-the-way churches named Nicasius of Rheims, after some saint from the country. Though it would seem as if this was all routine, since they had been trying to find this church for the last month there in France, Gilbert knew how incredibly important the whole thing was to Ludwig. Hence, as his older brother and care-taker, he was there to back him up one hundred percent. And this was by his way of letting things come to them instead of seeking things out himself. Some things were better left up to the chances.
"Bonjour! Comment puis-je vous aider?"
Spinning around, Gilbert coughed and tried to gather his bearings from the surprise. No, he didn't get frightened! Pft, that would be silly. "Ah- erm. Oh. Do you speak English?"
The waitress that had spoken before paused, pursed her lips together and answered with a "pardon?"
"I can't speak French," he admitted. The whole idea of it didn't catch on with the woman, who stood staring. "American," he added. With that, he put a thumb to his chest and slapped on a dorky grin. As if this said it all, she opened her small mouth and let an 'ohh' escape before putting a finger up, the motion telling him to wait, and quickly walking away. Assuming that someone who knew how to communicate with him was coming, Gilbert sat down and lounged in the chair. Ludwig continued staring off nowhere in particular.
"You gonna be alright?"
Ludwig nodded a bit. This didn't prevent his older brother from seeing that something was bothering him though. Oh, bothering him more than everything else was. Gilbert knew how stressful it was like for him, to be back in France and all.
"C'mon, spill it."
With a small sigh, the blonde pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose and leaned over the table to put himself in the general direction of his brother. "I need to-"
"Hello! How are you two doing today?"
The younger Beilschmidt drew back instantly and looked down at nothing in particular. "We're alright," Gilbert answered for the both of them, smiling up at the waiter as he did. The waiter looked cheerful and happy, his blue eyes lit and shoulder-length blonde hair drawn into a ponytail. One would think that he looked rather feminine if it wasn't for the stubble he sported. His red eyes didn't miss the slightly fazed expression that suddenly grew on the man's face, as if he was trying to remember something. Sort of like when someone is trying to remember the name of that person way back in grade school. However, he quickly shook it off and continued on with what he was there for.
"And what will you two be hav..." This was enough to get Gilbert's brow raised. Sure, the rare 'haven't I seen you before?' thing was fine, but when the waiter turned his attention to Ludwig, it all fell from there. The white-haired man felt confusion crash down on him when he saw what the Frenchman's face had turned into. He suddenly looked shocked, exhilarated, terrified, and all at once his hands began to shake so hard that his note pad fell to the ground.
"Hey, are you alright?" Gilbert asked, standing. Ludwig continued to stare at the ground, oblivious to everything that was happening. The restaurant's chatter continuously rolled on, not seeing the scene that was laid out before them. He was about to try to calm the waiter down, to do something, before the waiter himself stooped down closer to the other blonde and slowly slipped off his glasses, a hand lifting up the other's chin. The Frenchman's blue eyes met a different shade of blue, and the shade was more sharp and electrifying than anything else he'd ever felt before since that time six years ago in that city house in central Rouen. But there was something wrong. They didn't seem to be focused on anything at all.
Gilbert was about to cut in, to demand what was going on when Ludwig rose his face and questioned out "Gilbert?", not seeing who was in front of him. The waiter in turn stared in the same shocked way, but the trembling had subdued, and after a moment his brows furrowed in concern, confusion.
"He's blind; leave him alone!" Gilbert said, his voice snapping like a whip this time. It certainly caught attention to a few of the people that sat around them. Still, there were people at the far ends of the room that still talked and talked, not heeding the suddenly tense atmosphere.
The waiter's attention quickly reverted to Gilbert, then slowly back to Ludwig. The shock was over. Now it was just numbness. In a nearly robotic way, the Frenchman lifted the German's hand and brought it up to his face. Then, ever so slowly, he guided the other's fingers through several locks of long blonde hair. This was about enough for Gilbert, who was about to smack the strange man away, but in sudden recognition Ludwig responded to this by letting his hand slide down to cup the other's face. His breath had become reasonably shorter, and it seemed as if the shaking was contagious, because the blue-eyed German was trembling as well. He dropped his hand after a moment and tried to get up and move away, eyes wide, nostrils flaring.
For a moment, they stood. Ludwig was wide-eyed and staring off some place over the Frenchman's shoulder and the Frenchman stared more directly at Ludwig. That same numbness, Gilbert realized as he looked at the waiter. He knew that numbness. And with that, the waiter was gone. He'd let Ludwig's glasses drop on their table before clasping a hand over his mouth and leaving into one of the back rooms, as if on the verge of tears.
Bonjour! Comment puis-je vous aider? - Hello, how can/may I help you?