Prologue

Ludwig pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration as the young teen stepped out of their makeshift home studio with shoulders slumped in a clear sign of resignation. The kid hadn't been that great, but he hadn't been awful either; maybe with a few more years of experience he would have been able to make a greater impact. Honestly, Ludwig had to say that so far, the young boy had been the best that had even bothered to show up to their poorly-announced, impromptu tryouts.

No, the lack of potential candidates with talent was not the cause of the deep furrow between Ludwig's eyebrows. What had Ludwig at the brink of a throbbing headache and just this close to blowing a fuse was his fellow bandmates' behavior.

Alfred was leaning back precariously on a fold-up chair, laughing and cursing and muttering other nonsense as he mashed away excitedly at his Gameboy even though Ludwig could have sworn he had confiscated all the man's gaming devices before the tryouts had begun. Ludwig couldn't really say much against Ivan since the Russian was the only other person besides Ludwig even paying attention to the performances, sitting upright behind his drum set with that sweet smile permanently on his face. However, the remarks the larger man had to say to their already few visitors were sure to keep possible prospects from ever returning. ("Tell me, were you really trying that time?" "I like him. We can use him whenever we want to torture people." "How cute. He thinks he did a good job.") And Ludwig's dear older brother Gilbert – the idiot who had brought the band together in the first place and had proclaimed himself the leader, the man who had suddenly insisted on the need for a violinist and demanded they hold open tryouts one random morning – was spread out across the tiny, worn-out sofa in the corner, snoring away with a stupid grin on his face.

Ludwig unclenched his tightened fist before he snapped the pencil he held in his hand and did some deep breathing exercises to try and restrain himself from punching a wall. Once in a calmer state of mind, he checked the time on his wrist watch. It was approaching late evening and was near time they called it quits. If anyone else decided to show up, at this point, all Ludwig would ask for is that they just be more-than-decent with at least some distant, vague knowledge of what their genre of music entailed. Surely that wasn't too much to ask.

A few minutes passed in the quiet home studio with the most action happening being Alfred getting so excited in his game that he threw his hands up with a victorious cheer only to end up throwing off his balance, causing his chair to tip backwards and crash loudly into the floor. Gilbert's face scrunched up at the commotion, and he scratched the small bit of his exposed belly before his face relaxed back into a slightly arrogant and sleepy grin, and he continued sleeping.

"I'm okay…" came the slightly pained voice of Alfred on the floor.

Of course, it was at this point that a well-dressed young man carrying a violin decided to step into the cramped studio and present himself before the misfit band. Ludwig eyed the slender brunette as said man did the same, taking in the sight of Alfred still lying crumpled on the floor and then to Gilbert snoring happily on the couch with a repulsed look.

"Mio dio, I can't believe I'm willing to play with these sacks of shit…" the man grumbled under his breath. However, in the amplified room, it wasn't low enough that Ivan couldn't hear.

Ludwig saw the large man grab hold of his drumsticks and stand up to move toward the newcomer, his disturbingly childish smile stiffly in place. Ludwig immediately jerked forward into defensive action, but luckily Alfred who was closer zipped up from the floor and put a firm hand on Ivan's shoulder. "Hey, it's cool buddy – he was just messing with us," the loud American quickly explained with a smile. "You know, what's a few insults between friends really?"

The dark aura that had surrounded Ivan seemed to dissipate immediately, and he turned to look down at Alfred with an innocent smile. "Oh, you mean like when I call you моральный урод и дурак, da?"

"Exactly!" Alfred laughed loudly, purposefully ignoring the insult. After all, he was mature enough to not react to every nasty remark the Russian man threw his way. Even if he did still slap Ivan's back with a bit more oomph than usual. Ivan didn't do anything but smile wider at Alfred, a dark glint in his violet eyes.

When both Ivan and Alfred returned to their seats after a tense staredown, Ludwig mentally sighed in relief as the crisis was diverted. He turned to look at the violinist who was looking between Alfred and Ivan even more confused and disturbed (and possibly a little frightened) than before. Ludwig cleared his throat pulling the young man's attention to himself.

"Ah, whenever you're ready, just begin playing whatever you've prepared," he explained gruffly.

The brunette sneered but picked up his instrument and settled it under his chin. The man seemed to hesitate as he moved his bow towards the strings, but it was only a very brief pause. However, Alfred (who was once again leaning back on his chair despite his previous fall) caught sight of the quick fleck of worry that passed the through the surly violinist's eyes. As the brunette began to play the first notes of a song, Alfred seemed to forget about the Gameboy in his hands and actually paid attention to the vibrant notes that began to fill the room.

While the brunette was playing, his amber eyes kept flickering from the happy blonde's expectant face, to the intimidating drummer's creepy smile, to the muscle head's stern frown. He didn't know which expression stressed him out more. When he thought he heard a dark chuckle escape the drummer's lips that sent chills up his spine, his hands tensed up in fear, and he visibly winced when he messed up a few notes. Fuuuuuuck… A string of curses continued to run through the brunette's head until he finally finished off the song and lowered his instrument. He squared his shoulders though, and glared at the three bastards, daring them to say anything.

He was more than startled when it was none of the three that spoke up first.

"Hell yeah! Mägo da Oz, right?"

The brunette was stunned when he saw the white-haired man who had been sleeping on the couch standing up and looking directly at him with a wide grin on his pale face and red eyes practically glowing with excitement. It took the violinist a second to compose himself from the shock of both the man's appearance and the way his performance had been received, and he reacted the only way he knew how to. "It's Mägo de Oz you fucking idiot!"

Gilbert just waved the angry man off. "Pff, whatever. Same shit," he said. "That was still awesome. What's your name kid?"

The brunette was too flabbergasted by the unexpected compliment to get mad at being called kid so he replied automatically, "L-Loviono Vargas."

Gilbert laughed when he saw the light blush rise on the man's face. "Awe, he's cute too!" Gilbert cooed disgustingly.

Lovino's temper flared. "Wha- You bastard! I-"

"I like you," Gilbert stated simply with a shit-eating grin making Lovino's blush darken and brain temporarily short-circuit. Then the albino turned to look at the rest of the band. "I like him," he repeated. "He's in."

"What?!" Ludwig roared.

"Ok."

"Yay, a new friend."

Ludwig pinched the bridge of his nose even as Alfred and Ivan stood up to welcome their new member. Then he turned to glare at his idiotic brother. "How can you be so sure he's our best option when you were asleep through half the other performances?" he nearly growled that last part. This was the same kind of shit Gilbert had pulled a few years ago when he decided to enlist an unknown guitarist and drummer he had only ever met online based solely on "a feeling."

Gilbert just rolled his eyes, used to his little brother's hissy fits. "Well that's 'cause they were all so boring. It's not my fault if they put me to sleep. So that automatically makes Lovino the only option, duh," he proclaimed proudly as if it were the most obvious explanation. "Gott, Ludwig, I swear if it wasn't for me…" he trailed off shaking his head with a tired sigh. Then he snapped his head up pranced over to where the others were with happy yell, "Three cheers for Lovino! The newest member of GUM!"

Despite his frustration, Ludwig couldn't help the small smile that appeared on his face as he observed as his bandmates jostle a flustered Lovino around in a group hug and proceed to simultaneously yell the cheers in a cacophony of three different languages while the violinist tried to escape, his cries of "let go of me bastards!" going completely unheard or simply ignored.

"I'm surrounded by idiots," Ludwig sighed in contentment as he went to give an obligatory pat on the back to the newest addition to the family. After all, he looked to Alfred and Ivan, the guitarist and drummer had ended up being pretty good, so maybe he could place a little faith in his older brother for once. With a new violinist in their band, maybe they could finally perform the way they've always dreamed of.

Whoop, whoop. Here's to hoping for the success of my first legitimate chapter story.

When this story was still an idea, it was going to mainly focus on Gerita, but as I've begun writing, that pairing kinda got pushed to the back, but there's definitely going to be some fruk and prucan, and maybe some rusame, and possibly other pairings, and perhaps some one-sided emotions, and conceivably a smidgen of triangular relationships. Pretty much anything is game at this point.

Which leads me to... a word of warning: this gonna be a long and SLOW story...mostly because I have no idea what I'm doing.