I was listening to Stay Alive (Reprise) and Quiet Uptown from the Hamilton musical. Inspired by two OTP Prompts over at Tumblr as well.
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The strings on the violin make a horrible screeching sound each time the bow hits them, making his music tutor cringe each time and stare at him with a disapproving frown. Gilbert only gives him a dirty look in response, and he lowers both violin and bow. The cold winter sun shines through the floor length window, and upon the red carpeting, casting their shadows long and the drapes are an ugly shade and pulled back with gold ropes.
"I don't want to do this." He says, easily and simply. Roderich adjusts his rectangle glasses, the winter sunlight glinting off of them, in almost a threatening manner, despite the man himself not being very scary. "This is stupid. Get Lud to learn." Gilbert would rather learn the flute than the violin, or hell, even the piano because they're all so boring, but whatever his father wants, his father gets.
"You need to keep practicing."
"Kiss my ass." He grumbles as he throws the violin onto a cushioned chair, that looks comfortable, when in fact, it's horrible and uncomfortable. "I'm going out." Gilbert is only barely surprised when Roderich doesn't try to stop him, possibly learning from the past that it's just not going to work. It isn't that Gilbert is a problem child, it's that one can't get him to focus on anything for very much, if he doesn't like it. He spots Ludwig sitting outside the door, little legs swinging back and forth, humming a little tune. When he was younger, Gilbert had insisted on learning the violin, and then learned to hate it."Okay kid, it's your turn to suffer with the master in there."
"I was waiting for you. I already had my lesson earlier." The young boy replies, as he hops off the chair. "You promised we'd go out, remember?"
Gilbert makes a little noise in the back of his throat. "Oh yeah." Truthfully, he didn't want to spend the rest of the day with his kid brother. "Go get ready to go outside. We don't want mom getting upset 'cause you got sick." Gilbert watches as Ludwig's blue eyes light up with excitement, and he quickly nods, before taking off, towards his room.
The two are considerable close, despite their large age difference. They have more siblings, but Gilbert never made much of a connection with the others. When their mother was pregnant with Ludwig, she had many complications with the pregnancy and it ended up leading to a two month early birth, followed by a torn uterus that the doctors were forced to do a cesarean section, unless she wanted to risk death from a natural birth. Gilbert had been there during his birth, despite it being bloody, and frankly, disturbing.
He had asked many questions, and then spouted what little knowledge he had learned in the books he read, as though he knew better than the doctors (which he totally did!). They all brushed him off, and when the silent, still infant was taken away, his skin was weird and he was too tiny. Gilbert had been told that he's not allowed to hold his little brother for awhile and that his little brother won't be coming home for awhile.
It turns out, the newborn could barely eat and was starting to get jaundice. When he went to go visit his little brother, he had breathing tubes in his little mouth and nose. He had learned that premature babies can have a lot of health problems. The doctor's weren't lying, as Ludwig grew up, he got sick easily and tired too quickly. For awhile, he was exempt from most activities that required too much physical exertion because he'd collapsed. It was Gilbert who taught him to walk, to talk, to do most things.
After all, he was going to be the best big brother in the world.
Whereas, with his older siblings, he barely got along with them. They would either gang up on him, or just flat out ignore him. Most now are away at university, and they just pretend the other doesn't exist, even when they come home for visits. Their arguments would only put pressure on their mother's waning health, and their father has a tempter one doesn't wish to ever trigger. So now, it's just them in their quiet, lonely home, in the beautiful and expansive German countryside and just an hour's drive away from the nearest city.
"You ready kid?"
Ludwig nods, excitedly. Gilbert throws on his jacket and opens the door, shivering visibly as a cold wind strikes them. "I met someone at school." The boy says, cheerily as they exit the house.
"Oh?"
"Yeah. She's really pretty! She's from um, Italy!"
"What's her name?"
"Felicia." The boy replies. "She likes to draw and scribbles all over her work." The seven year old purses his lips. "It makes Miss Katya mad."
"Did you talk to her?"
Ludwig shakes his head, blond hair falling into his face. "I was too scared." He scoops up a handful of white snow and lets it fall back to the ground. "But she said hi to me! She's got an older brother, he's kind of mean."
Gilbert whistles a little bit. "Well, ya gotta ignore him, I suppose. Anyways, what do you want to do out here, kid?"
"Play with the dogs." For a seven year old, Ludwig is quite direct with his words and very clear about what he wants. The boy is pretty smart. Gilbert grins a little bit and motions for Ludwig to follow him. Normally, they weren't allowed to play with the dogs or let them inside, for Ludwig's safety and health, since they are much bigger than him and excited able.
"Just don't tell mom. We don't want her dying just yet."
Ludwig's smile could melt the snow if it were possible.
"Alfred! Stop!" Matthew's shouts as he sprints after his cackling brother. "Give me back my phone!"
"Bite me, little brother!" Alfred shouts over his shoulder as he takes a sharp turn. "You know what you gotta do to get your phone back!" He pauses for a moment, peering at his screen. "Hey, Jan texted you! So he is your boyfriend!" Alfred's shout echoes, and some stare at him in bewilderment.
"Stupid brother." Matthew mutters to himself as he follows him over the turn. He sees Alfred run across the street, and tries to speed up before the light changes. Thankfully, there isn't much traffic at this time anyways, but Matthew's luck isn't much. In fact, he's certain most days that the gods were against his birth from day one. He loses footing as the light changes, the little walking symbol to a bright red hand. Matthew falls face first onto the muddy, wet cement and he grumbles to himself as he pushes himself up with his hands and shivers, wishing he had worn gloves.
The snowfall in Canada is particularly heavy today, Matthew realizes. And somehow, time just seems to freeze when the weather gets heavy like this. Something isn't registering, and he realizes it, something is muted somewhere and he isn't sure what or where, but everything suddenly feels wrong. Matthew decides that once he gets home, he'll punch Alfred in the face.
Normally, he's much more mild mannered and sweeter, but Alfred sometimes tests his patience. He knows Alfred only ever means it in jest, but he just gets irritated with him. Compared to Alfred, Matthew is too quiet, too withdrawn and introverted. Alfred is loud, outgoing, popular and athletic. He gets invited to parties, and Matthew is always at home, blogging or reading. Teachers and adults like him, but it can get lonely without someone around his age to be around.
Sure, there's Jan, but he's kind of like Matthew, except he never cares what people think about him. Admittedly, Matthew is jealous of both of them. Sometimes, he and Jan skip school to get high or just to skip for the hell of it. They had met three years ago, when Matthew was hiding in the nurse's office, instead of going to PE and Jan had walked in, face covered in blood and effectively freaking Matthew out. It turns out that someone accidentally struck their international Dutch student in the face with a lacrosse stick.
Oh so casually, Jan had sat down next to him, with a blank look on his handsome face and greeted him, with his thick, weird accent. And then added, "This hurts like a bitch." And that was it.
Matthew grumbles to himself as he staggers to his feet, and stumbles towards the other side of the cross-walk. It dawns on him after a moment that something was different about his surroundings. For some reason, everyone is just a silhouette and everything is such more more darker.
He coughs a little, and shivers but he's not cold, despite the snowfall getting heavier. Maybe he's having a bad trip? Mumbling to himself that he has to let Jan know that the weed might not be that great once he gets his phone back, Matthew hurries towards the direction Alfred had run in. They have to get home, Francis might be worrying over them. Arthur will yell. Plus, their uncles are visiting and it's rude to make them wait, after flying for what would perhaps be over twelve hours.
"Hey, kid!" A sharp voice finally rings out as he stumbles around, chest starting to ache. Matthew freezes and looks around. His surroundings had gotten even darker. "What are you doing here?" A boy jogs towards him, shaggy brown hair framing his pale but reddened face. Matthew looks around, brows furrowed and then stares at the confused boy before him, pointing to himself. "Yes, you. You're the only other one here!"
"I-I'm looking for my brother." Matthew replies, meekly.
The boy quirks a brow. "Your brother?"
"Yes." Matthew tries to ignore the disbelief in his voice.
"I don't believe you." The boy puts his hands on his hips, frowning.
"He looks a lot like me, but a little taller and his hair is a darker shade of blond. He probably has a phone out." The boy stares at him, curiously and then looks over is shoulder. "He's loud and kind of hard to miss."
"Erm," The boy pauses for a moment, looking back at Matthew and then over Matthew's shoulder again. "you don't know where you are, do you?"
"In Canada." Matthew replies, firmly.
The boy shakes his head. "Wrong." He hesitates now. "You could take a look, you know." He crosses his arms over his chest, side-eyeing Matthew.
"Look at what?"
"Are you stupid? Turn around."
Matthew isn't so sure he wants to, but swallows anyways, turning around. He's back in the middle of the cross-walk, the light blinking with warning, bright numbers quickly counting down the seconds. There's a high pitched noise in his ears that's quickly replaced with a high ringing noise, as though he had listened to music too loudly. There's a crumpled body before him, red liquid pooling out and looks bright in contrast to the dull gray and the white that's falling down. There's a tight constriction in his throat.
"A-Al?" Matthew tentatively steps towards the crumpled body, and looks at the stopped, swerved vehicle that had some blood splatter on it. "b-but he got across." His voice comes out shaky and he swallows, turning around and stepping away from the boy. "I don't understand."
The boy looks briefly guilty. "This is the worst part." He remarks, after a moment. "Uh, this might hurt a little and all of this will feel like a dream. Sorry." The boy gives him a sharp push on the shoulders, with a little too much force.
Matthew doesn't understand.
It dawns on him, briefly, that his body isn't working and he doesn't know why. There's a sharp pain, it runs through his central nervous system and there's an echo of a noise in the back of his mind.
Floating.
That's how Matthew can only describe it as he crashes, heart pounding as though he had just woken up from one of those dreams where he had been falling. He chokes, and rolls over in the snow, hacking away and struggling to draw air into his lungs. People walk past, as though they don't notice a seventeen year old boy puking up blood in the snow.
Even now, people don't notice him, Matthew thinks with a tinge of anger and desperation.
His skin is hot now, it burns and once he manages to collect himself, he collapses back down and his lungs still aren't working but at least, his muscles are now. Matthew rolls over onto his side, and watches as people walk by, going about their daily lives, on their phones or chatting with their partners or just silent. For a brief moment, he wonders if he landed in a different world, because they're speaking a different language he's struggling to process.
Francis must be worried about him. Arthur must be sick with fear. He wonders about Alfred. Stupid Alfred.
"Hey, kid." A harsh voice comes out and Matthew isn't sure if the voice is talking to him or not, and now he's wondering how he could understand this person but not anyone else. "Hey!" Matthew doesn't move or say anything. "Damn. You look like hell." The speaker stands over him, jacket half open and hands on his hips. "Were you mugged?" Still, Matthew doesn't say anything. His lungs are slowly starting to work, but it hurts too much. "Uh. Want me to call for an ambulance?"
Matthew slowly sits up now, grimacing as he does so. He stares at the speaker, whose eyes are narrowed and damp hair from the snow clinging to his face. Weirdly enough, the most that stands out about this weird speaker is the lip ring on his lower lip.
And Matthew pukes again.