The Epitome of Awesome

Prologue

For some time, there was nothing but the sound of a heart beat. Beep. Or, rather, the sound of a machine counting down a man's final moments. Beep. It was late. Late enough for the large window at the end of the room proudly let the sunset be chopped into tiny pieces by its white blinds. Beep. The room was a normal hospital room: large enough but certainly not worth bragging about; everything clean; a television attached to another wall that faced the beds—beep—and the stench of... hospital lingering in the air. Only one of its beds was occupied. Beep. The old man in the bed seemed ready to die. His expression seemed rather peaceful, though determined and still stern. Everything about him seemed serious and stern: knowing blue eyes, sharp facial features, slightly furrowed eyebrows. Beep. His long blond hair rested beneath his skull and was so long that it managed to creep underneath his blanket as well. Beep.

He was not alone in the room.

A teen and a young man watched him. Both stood near the bed, though it seemed that their thoughts were in completely different lands. Beep. The young teen seemed to be about fourteen or fifteen years old, the baby fat on his cheeks betraying his otherwise fierce expression. He looked much like the old man on the bed: blond hair, blue eyes, and a thick build. Beep. He looked as though he had come from school. His messenger bag was still slung across his shoulder, and he still wore a button-shirt and neatly-pressed khaki pants. Beep. The boy stared from the window-sill at his grandfather, his teeth chewing on the inside of his bottom lip. His knees are bent, as though he wishes to walk over to his guardian—or perhaps run from the room, from the nightmare that this has become. Beep. The older man did not seem to be faring as badly. He stared to at his grandfather, his red eyes almost drinking in the scene as they searched for answers to all the questions in the world, all the questions that the man on the bed would not be able to answer. Beep. His thin, pale arms were crossed. He leaned against the wall near the bed, away from his younger brother. Beep. He was dressed in casual street clothes: an opened red and black patterned button-up shirt with a white under-shirt and black skinny jeans. A hoodie hung from his crossed arms. Beep.

The old man adjusted himself a bit, and Ludwig's legs twitched as though he wanted to come over to help. But his grandfather raised a hand, stopping him. The young boy hung his head slightly and settled back into his former position at the windowsill. Beep. The old man ran his hand along the side of the bed, then pushed down on a button. The front of the bed raised itself up. Beep. The old man spoke, "I am going to tell you a story.

"It is sad. It is bitter. It is sweet. It is my greatest regret. And it all has to do with a man that you met, that you hate or loved or perhaps cared not for. But he was the love of my life, even if that, at your young age makes no sense or seems too sentimental." Beep. The silver-haired man looked confusedly at his grandfather, red eyes narrowing and eyebrows furrowing. His crossed arms tightened. The air swirled with confusion and angst. Beep.

The young teen merely nodded slightly, his blue eyes wide as though trying to memorise every sound, movement, and smell. The old man continued, his eyes closing. Beep. "I did not love him immediately. In fact, I was loath to have met him, the first time. He was my opposite. Loud, funny, charming, garrulous in the extreme. Handsome as well. It took me a while to learn, but... above all, he was kind." Beep. "He was in the same situation as I. His daughter had died a few months prior. Her husband had left her after the second child had been born and could not be located." Beep. "But she had had two children with the man, one boy and one girl. My love took in the two, treated them as his own. I met him at the library where we used read, do you remember, Ludwig?" Beep. The old man opened his eyes. "You used to help the boy read because he had a lot of trouble sitting still. Although, you thought he was a girl because the boy liked wearing dresses." The teen frowned and shook his head slightly in response. Beep. The silver-haired man looked up at the white ceiling of the hospital. This he remembered, though he had not been there himself.

"We met every other day at that library. And, one night, when my love said that he had business, but had no one to take care of the two children, I offered with no hesitation to take them for the evening." Beep. "I think, I think it was then that I knew that I would do anything for him. And, soon, I discovered that he felt the same way. And together we helped each other heal." Beep. "But we did not know. We did not know how we could possibly handle ourselves around you four. You all never met the girl, just the boy – yes, Gilbert, that brunette boy that loved pasta and refused to eat anything I made." Beep. Gilbert smiled slightly. He remembered that, though he couldn't remember exactly what the boy looked like. Just that weird little curl... "One could not get married back then, not between two men. And what could we say to your teachers, who were likely to disapprove and perhaps treat you differently? What would the world say?" Beep. "The world looked down upon us. So, we hid. We waited. We expected that time would come to us and let us live." Beep. The old man snorted slightly with a patient smile, as though smiling at his own foolishness.

"He died the next year, and I could not be there with him. He had been sick for a long time." Beep. "I hadn't even known." The old man paused and closed his eyes for a second. Ludwig made a small sound, as though he wanted to tell him that it was okay. That he didn't need to continue. Gilbert spared his brother a sympathetic glance. Poor Ludwig. He had only been five. It was unlikely that he remembered. Ironically, it was Gilbert who did not want to remember, but did. Beep. The albino's eyes returned to his grandfather as the old man spoke again, "I went to the hospital to go visit, bringing along a new book on the Roman Empire for him to read—he loved history, you know—" Beep. "But when I went to the nurses' station to sign-in, the nurse told me that he died that night." Beep.

"I was not allowed to take in the children. They were separated, but I could never locate them." The pace of his speech quickened, and Gilbert lowered his eyes. He remembered this part. He remembered it all too well. Especially the parts that he had made so much worse. Beep. "I was distraught. I had lost him. I had lost them. I had lost that small sphere of happiness that I had managed to create, and don't misunderstand me." Beep. "I loved and love you both as well. But when we were together, we felt like a family. Him and me, helping each other raise you all..." Beep. Alexander finally looked at Gilbert. The now young adult looked back, eyes infinitely sad. Beep.

Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep.

"I know why you are so sad, Gilbert," Alexander said finally. "You're right, too. That is why I am telling you this. I know you remember a lot of it." Beep. "However, all of that leads to something else that I'd like to say."

Unable to help himself and feeling overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotions that he could not run from, Ludwig moved from his position on the windowsill, moving closer to his grandfather and taking the old man's thin and frail hand. Beep. The teenager's mouth was nearly trembling. Trembling with all the words he wanted to say. His eyes filling with tears that he would never shed. Gilbert stayed where he was, unsure if he still hated his grandfather for this, or if he understood that he would rather say goodbye now than never say it. Or perhaps even that he now understood. Beep.

Alexander gave Ludwig a weak smile, then flashed Gilbert an understanding look. "In your life, you will find yourself chasing your past." Beep. "When you walk alone down shopping aisles, in the park, on your way to school or work, you find yourself reliving memories, wondering why you didn't act differently, or what you could have said instead." Beep. "Your past will give you something to avenge, something to work for, something to love. Your past will give you meaning." Beep.

"And, yet, be wary of it. Don't let your past impulse you into acting." Beep. "Because you are more than who you were. You are more than your experiences; you are your choices." Beep.

Gilbert walked forward to the side opposite of where Ludwig stood. The man's red eyes were guarded. He placed his hand onto his grandfather's. "You should sleep now, Opa." The words were smooth. Beep. And full of emotion. The Prussian rubbed his fingers against the skin of his grandfather's hand, making sure not to touch the IV cord. Beep.

Alexander smiled at him. Then looked to Ludwig. "You will make sure he doesn't burn Paris to the ground, won't you?" Beep. Ludwig made another small sound between a happy and nervous laugh, smiled in a pained way, and glanced at his beloved older brother—who was rolling his eyes. The German teen nodded at his grandfather's request, with tears filling his eyes. The old man looked at him for a bit more. He wished Ludwig was a child again. He wished he were strong enough to wipe away his tears one last time.

Unable to respond to the teen, he shifted his gaze to Gilbert, blue meeting red in absolute—beep—and broken silence. They stared at each other, Alexander's blue eyes repeating the same words from every outing, every school year morning, every moment that Ludwig and Gilbert had spent alone. Beep. Take care of him. Protect him. Make sure that he is always okay. That is your responsibility as his older brother. The two looked at each other until Gilbert, too, finally felt the emotional strain. The Prussian bowed his head slightly, his eyes never leaving his grandfather's. The old man finally broke eye contact, looking up at the light on the ceiling. "Don't expect me to wake up," the old man murmured, closing his eyes. Beep.

The two brothers stayed like that for a short while until Gilbert removed his hand and took a step back. Beep. Outside, the sky was now dark and star-less. The moon was nowhere to be seen, but the lights from the buildings shown into the room, dousing everything with an orange hue. The Prussian walked over to the window and fully closed the blinds. Alexander hated sleeping when any light was on. Beep. He walked back to his brother and put a hand on the teen's shoulder. "Come on, Lud," he said softly. "You've got school tomorrow. You'll need to get some sleep." Beep. The words were gentle, a quality that often escaped Gilbert. Ludwig tore his stare from his grandfather, but did not remove his hand. The boy gave his brother a pleading look, but Gilbert shook his head, his red eyes full of sympathy. Beep. Ludwig gave one last look at his grandfather then removed his hand.

"O...kay," the boy trembled. Gilbert grabbed his hand and held it. Beep.

"It's gonna be okay," Gilbert whispered. Beep. The boy nodded, wiping away the tears that were coming to his eyes. "Have you got all your things?" Ludwig nodded. Beep. His lip was being held by his front teeth. "It's gonna be okay," Gilbert repeated. "Let's go." The Prussian continued to hold his brother's hand as they exited the room, not daring to glance once more at their guardian lest their resolve break.

The beeping continued as the two made their way down the hallway. And as they said their goodbyes to the nurse

the beeping stopped, replaced by the sound of the heater coming on for the night and the footsteps of the nurse who was coming down the hallway for a check-in.