I HAVE RETURNED.
LET'S KICK OFF THIS PARTY WITH AN ANGSTY FIC I WAS GOING TO WRITE YEARS AGO BUT ABANDONED AND IT SAT COLLECTING DUST IN MY DOCUMENTS FOLDER.
ENJOY THE PAIN
(Note: Wilhelm is my headcanon name for Germania and Caesar is my headcanon name for HRE. HRE is older than Gilbert in my mind.)
(Note II: NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.)
When Ludwig walked into the hospital waiting room, the first thing he saw was Elizabeta's teary-eyed face. The minute their eyes locked, she untangled her hand from Roderich's and ran over to him, burying her face in his muscular chest. The tall blonde wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly, exchanging knowing glances at his Austrian cousin across the room. Roderich stood and nodded once in acknowledgement, Ludwig doing the same, before the brunette pulled away, rubbing at her eyes.
"Vash and Lilly will be here soon," she sniffed, Roderich coming to stand behind her, hands resting comfortingly on his wife's shoulders. "They got caught in traffic."
"Right," Ludwig nodded, loosening the tie around his neck. He shrugged off his suit jacket and set it carefully on the chair. "How's he doing?"
Elizabeta shook her head, fresh tears pooling in her eyes. "Not good…" she whispered, reaching up a hand to tightly clasp it in her own. "The doctors… they say he doesn't have much time left."
The German sighed. "Alright. What room is he in?"
"Three ten. It's just down the hall to the left."
Ludwig thanked his cousin and hurried down the hospital hallway, counting the room numbers in his head as he went. When he got to three ten, he knocked quietly once before opening the stark white door and peeking his head into the dark room.
"Vati?" he called, voice barely above a whisper.
"Ludwig," came the reply, and the blonde edged into the room, leaving the door cracked behind him, and headed to the frail-looking man lying in the bed. He took a seat on the chair that had been pulled up beside the man, and Ludwig took his father's hand in his own.
"I wasn't sure that you were going to make it," Wilhelm said weakly, giving his son a small smile. His long blonde hair was dull and hung off his head limply. Even his blue eyes no longer held the light they once did.
"Nein, vati," Ludwig shook his head, returning the smile, running his thumb over his father's hand. "I got here as soon as Roderich called."
"Ah, yes. He and Elizabeta were already here. They said that Vash and Lilly were running late. I do hope they make it in time," Wilhelm replied. He suddenly broke out into a coughing fit, one that shook his once strong body all the way down, causing Ludwig to swallow deeply past the lump in his throat. He reached over and grabbed a glass of water that was lying on the table next to him. He held the straw up to Wilhelm's parched lips and allowed the man to take small sips, setting it back aside when he had had enough.
"Ludwig," Wilhelm whispered, and the blonde had to lean forward to hear better. "Do you know where Gilbert is? I would… I shall like to see him before…"
Ludwig shot his father a surprised look. "What? You mean he hasn't seen you yet?"
"Nein."
The young blonde furrowed his brow. Roderich hadn't said anything about the older man when they'd talked earlier, so Ludwig naturally assumed that his brother was already here and was simply wandering around the halls. He never could sit still…
"I will find him, vati," he promised, patting the elder man's hand. He leaned forward to press a kiss to Wilhelm's forehead before standing. "I'll be right back. Do you need anything else while I'm up?"
Wilhelm shook his head slightly, giving his younger son a small smile. "Nein. Just try to hurry…"
"Of course."
Ludwig let go of Wilhelm's hand and gently set it on the bed before striding out of the room, closing the door with a soft "click" behind him. When he returned to the waiting room, his cousin and Elizabeta glanced up.
"How is he?" Elizabeta asked.
"He seems comfortable," Ludwig replied, running a hand over his tired face. "How are you two holding up?"
"We're okay, for now," Roderich told him. He met Ludwig's blue eyes. "Ludwig, I think you might want to talk to Gilbert. He's…. he's having a hard time with all this…"
"Aye. I was going to ask if you'd seen him."
"He's down in the cafeteria," Elizabeta said. "He stormed down there the minute we arrived. Hasn't been up since. I don't think he's even seen Wilhelm yet…"
Ludwig scowled. "I'll go find him, the stubborn ass." He made to leave when Roderich called him back for a moment.
"Be easy with him, Ludwig. He's not as okay as he might seem."
With that in mind, the tall German made his way down three flights of steps to find himself standing in the doorway to the small cafeteria that the hospital had, scanning the tables full of doctors and nurses before his eyes found the head of silver hair that he was looking for.
Ludwig weaved his way over to his elder brother, pulling out a chair across the table from him. Gilbert didn't look up from where his hands were curled tightly around a cup of cold coffee.
"You haven't seen vati yet," Ludwig told him as a way of greeting. He didn't miss the way Gilbert's shoulders tensed.
"Yeah, so?" was the gruff response.
"He was asking for you," Ludwig said.
Gilbert snorted, grip tightening. "Yeah right."
"I was just with him," Ludwig said testily. "He really wants to see you."
"Why?" Gilbert snapped, looking up at Ludwig for the first time. His glare was murderous, pain hidden carefully underneath.
"He's dying, bruder," Ludwig growled.
"Good riddance," Gilbert muttered, taking a huge gulp of his drink. He winced when the coolness of the drink made it taste putrid.
Ludwig adopted a glare of his own. "Gilbert, he is our father."
Another snort from the pale man. "Yeah, some father."
"He's done everything he could for us growing up!" Ludwig exclaimed, becoming angrier and angrier as the conversation went on. They were running out of time, and he just wanted to make his father happy in his last moments.
"No," Gilbert said, his mask of anger slipping into one of misery briefly before it was covered up once more. "He did everything he could for you. You were his golden boy. Roderich was the prodigy that he spent time and money cultivating into a master. Lilly was his little girl, and Vash was the one he could count on to hold things together, and they aren't even his kids."
"What's that got to do with anything?" Ludwig asked, angry and confused and not sure where his brother was going with this. He just wanted the older man to stop being an ass and see their father.
Gilbert gave a dark chuckle. "You don't get it, do you, West?" he said. "Our father hates me. He never cared about me growing up. I was the screw up, the freak, the embarrassment to the family, and not just in the way I acted."
"That's not true," Ludwig protested, eyes wide at the words his brother had just uttered. "He loves you just as much as the rest of us!"
"No, he doesn't!" Gilbert argued, glaring at Ludwig again. "He can't stand me! I'm too loud, I'm too stupid, I'm not this, I'm not that, why can't you be more like your brother and cousins, blah blah blah. Hell, he even likes Elizabeta more than me, and she's only related to us by marriage!"
"Bruder, stop this!" Ludwif begged. "None of that is true! Where is all this coming from?"
"I can read between the lines, West!" Gilbert snapped.
The blonde threw up his hands in frustration. "What lines?" he cried.
"I'm not stupid!" Gilbert exclaimed. "I know you all think I am, but I'm not! I know how that man feels about me! I can't wait for him to die because then that'll be one less thing I have to worry about!"
Ludwig blanched, shrinking into his chair. "You don't mean that…" he whispered.
He heard Gilbert swear softly. The other man ran a hand through his silver hair, pulling on the strands as he resting his elbows on the table.
"West, I'm sorry," Gilbert said. "I… I shouldn't have said that…"
Ludwig remained silent, tears prickling at the edge of his eyes.
"I just… I can't go in there," Gilbert whispered. "Because what I said is true, whether you choose to believe it or not. Vati is ashamed to call me his son, and I can't… No matter what, he's still my father and I might hate him for that, but that doesn't change the fact that I can't ruin his last moments alive with my presence."
Ludwig couldn't believe what he was hearing. When did his brother develop these thoughts? Is this how he'd felt the entire time growing up? Did their father secretly hate the eldest son to their family?
No, Ludwig decided. Their father loved Gilbert. He'd heard Wilhelm talk nothing but good things to his friends and workers about their entire family, including Gilbert. He had a picture of the pale man on his desk at work, along with his other son, his niece and nephews, and his dearly departed wife and eldest son.
There was no way that Wilhelm hated Gilbert. Growing up, Gilbert and him had locked horns more often than not, but that wasn't any excuse to warrant hatred. Gilbert must have concocted this delusion himself somehow; Ludwig knew that the man's mind worked in odd ways. That didn't mean he wasn't smart; at the age of twelve, Gilbert had made his own gun that actually worked, all from old scraps from their father's workbench. He was pretty sure Wilhelm still had the contraption stashed away in his basement.
Reaching out slowly, a determined expression etched onto his face, Ludwig grasped Gilbert's smaller hand in his own.
"He's asked for you," he said gently. "He wants to see you. If he hated you, then why would he want to see you before he died?"
Gilbert remained silent, shrugging his shoulders as he stared down at the table, face still buried in one of his hands.
"Come on, bruder," Ludwig coaxed, standing up and gently dragging Gilbert with him. "I'll be there with you, okay?"
"You're going to make me go no matter what, aren't you?" Gilbert asked as the two began their way back to their father's room.
Ludwig sent him a gentle, amused grin. "Of course."
Gilbert frowned, nodding, but his grip on Ludwig's hand tightened. Ludwig squeezed back in reassurance, knowing that his brother strangely had low self-esteem at times like this. He knew that Gilbert was mostly going along at this point not because of their father, but because he had made Ludwig feel bad. And Gilbert had never been able to say no to the young blonde, something that Ludwig rarely took advantage of.
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
When the two reached the third floor once more, Vash and Lilly were just exiting Wilhelm's room. The small blonde girl was in tears, Vash's arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders; even his eyes were red, unshed tears in his eyes. They, along with Roderich and Elizabeta, looked up when Ludwig towed Gilbert up to them.
"He still okay?" Ludwig asked quietly, hand still gripping Gilbert's.
"For now," Vash said, voice choking on his words. He glanced at Gilbert, frown on his face.
Ludwig caught the look and nodded in acknowledgement.
"Give us a minute?" he asked quietly to the others. They nodded and Ludwig pulled Gilbert passed their cousins and into the room, closing it quietly behind them. Gilbert's grip tightened further and when the blonde turned around, he saw that their father looked, if possible, worse than he had thirty minutes ago.
"Ludwig?" Wilhelm called softly. "Ludwig is that you?"
"Ja, vati," Ludwig replied. "I've got Gilbert here with me."
"Ah, you found him," Wilhelm sounded relieved. "Gilbert, mein Sohn, come here."
Gilbert, to Ludwig's chagrin, didn't move.
"Gilbert?" Wilhelm repeated. He raised a hand towards his son.
"Bruder, go," Ludwig whispered, gently removing his hand from Gilbert's and giving him a nudge forward.
The taller man stumbled a step, giving Ludwig an exasperated look over his shoulder.
"Gilbert, come closer," Wilhelm said, gesturing towards the elder man.
Reluctantly, Gilbert made his way over to the bed, standing awkwardly next to his father instead of taking the chair that Ludwig had earlier.
"Ah, there you are," Wilhelm said as Gilbert entered his field of vision. Ludwig moved to the window, where he plopped himself down, out of the way. He nodded encouragingly to his brother.
"Hallo, Vati," Gilbert whispered.
"I wasn't sure you would actually come," Wilhelm said.
Gilbert gave Ludwig a questioning look. "I thought… I thought you wanted to talk to me?" he asked.
"Ja, I did," Wilhelm confirmed. "But I was doubtful in your appearance."
Gilbert's face twisted into a scowl, and Ludwig wondered if he had made a miscalculation.
"Doubtful?" Gilbert growled. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Wilhelm coughed slightly. "I'm just pointing out the fact that your track record isn't the best when it comes to my requests."
Gilbert gaped at him. "Excuse me?"
"I just know how you are, that's all," Wilhelm replied. "Which is why I wanted to-"
"Unbelievable," Gilbert muttered. He gave the dying man a glare, turned it onto Ludwig, and stepped backwards. "You're on your deathbed and you're still criticizing me."
"Gilbert, I am not-"
But Gilbert wasn't listening anymore. He took another step backwards, looking ready to bolt to the door. "Have a nice afterlife, vati. I won't miss you when you're gone."
Another step, and Ludwig sat up slightly, frowning, ready to run after his brother should he choose to make a run for it. But he was not needed.
With the strength that a dying man should not have possessed, Wilhelm shot his arm out and snatched Gilbert's wrist. The pale man jerked, trying to pull his arm out of the older man's grip, but it was too strong.
"Gilbert, please stay," Wilhelm whispered. "We have much to talk about… actually, that's not quite true. I have much to say to you, and I'd rather you be here to listen to it."
"Yeah, why should I?" Gilbert snapped, giving another useless tug.
"Because I have done you a grave wrong," Wilhelm said softly. Gilbert stilled. "And for that, I would like to offer my sincerest of apologies."
Gilbert stilled, and Ludwig frowned deeper in confusion. He wasn't sure what was going on. But Gilbert, for all his confusion and anger and sadness, was also intrigued.
"Apologize for what, exactly?" he scoffed, finally pulling his arm away from his father.
"For the way I have treated you," Wilhelm said softly. "I haven't been completely fair to you, and I haven't for a long, long time."
Gilbert stared at him. "What?"
Wilhelm sighed and tried to sit up. He coughed hard and long at the process, bending over forward. Ludwig hopped up as he and Gilbert rushed forward. Ludwig supported his father through the fit while Gilbert grabbed the bed remote and raised the head of the bed. Ludwig gently set the elder man back against the pillows once the coughing fit subsided and let him drink from the glass of water Gilbert handed him.
"Sorry," Wilhelm gasped.
"Just relax, vati," Ludwig said softly.
Gilbert met Ludwig's eyes over the bed and Ludwig was surprised to see the pain etched in their red irises. He gave him an encouraging smile as he stepped back again. The older brother waited a few moments after Wilhelm collected himself, sinking back into the pillows, before he spoke.
"Vati?" he said, voice barely a whisper.
Wilhelm looked up at Gilbert, a sad smile on his face. "Mein Junge," he said, reaching over to place his hand on Gilbert's. Gilbert moved it away, glancing away from his father. Wilhelm's sad smile grew in sadness. "Of course," he said.
Gilbert avoided his gaze.
"There is something… I would like to tell you," Wilhelm began. "And I can only hope, mein Sohn, that you can grant an old fool of a man on his deathbed this last request."
Still not meeting Wilhelm's blue eyes, Gilbert nodded, but not after a pause.
"I have not been the best father to you," Wilhelm went on.
Gilbert's head snapped to glare at Wilhelm. "That's the understatement of the year," he snapped.
Wilhelm gave him another sad smile. "I suppose you are right."
"Right?!" Gilbert practically screeched, glare increasing. "You were more of a father to your niece and nephews than you were your own son!" he began to pace.
Wilhelm was quiet, allowing Gilbert his tirade.
"And I say 'son' because I was the only one who seemed to anger you! Ludwig was perfect in your eyes, and I was not! I'm still not!"
"That is not true," Wilhelm told him quietly.
"The hell it's not!" Gilbert cried. "The only times you ever even spoke to me was when you were yelling at me or scolding me or punishing me! I could never do anything right!"
"I didn't know how to talk to you," Wilhelm defended himself with a scowl. "You were always getting into trouble."
"It was the only way you'd even look at me!"
"I didn't know what to do."
"Just talk to me!" Gilbert exclaimed, stopping his movements as he turned to fully face his father. Ludwig saw his eyes shine for a moment before the tears disappeared behind a steel door once more. "Even now, you can't even talk to me!"
"I tried," Wilhelm said. "I'm trying. Why are you making this so difficult?"
"I'm not being difficult!" Gilbert cried. "If you wouldn't have ignored me then, you wouldn't be floundering now!"
"I have never ignored your needs, but I have ignored your wants. I-"
"My needs?" he snarled. "My wants? Vati, I think you're delusional because you have neglected both, not just the one."
Wilhelm bowed his head. "Ja, ja… I suppose I have."
"You think you're so high and mighty!" Gilbert continued. "I may have had every basic thing a kid could want. I had food and shelter and an education and I even had a dog! But you know what the thing was that I needed the most that I never got? I needed my vater, and you couldn't provide that for me!"
"I know," Wilhelm said quietly.
"You practically abandoned me!" Gilbert screamed, making Ludwig wince. The other man was pacing again.
"I know."
"You made me think you hated me!"
"I know."
"And now you're trying to make up for it by just talking to me? By telling me things I already know? Well, it's too little, too late!"
Wilhelm was silent.
"Gott, will you just look at me?!" Gilbert bellowed, stopping beside Wilhelm's bed. He slammed his hands down on the mattress, glaring at the elderly man. "For once in your life, just look at me!"
Ludwig stared at the two, biting his lip, unsure of what to do, of what was going to happen. Should he pull Gilbert away? Should he leave? Should he defend one of them? And if so, which one?
He was saved when Wilhelm spoke.
"Gilbert, I have wronged you in the worst way that a father could wrong his son," Wilhelm said. "And I am not here to ask for your forgiveness, because it is not my place. And to be honest, I am not sure that I should be forgiven. But I am asking you to listen to what an old, foolish man has to say."
Gilbert glared at him.
"Please," Wilhelm begged. "It's my last dying wish. Surely you won't deny me that."
"Fine," Gilbert bit out between his teeth.
A relieved expression crossed Wilhelm's face. "Danke," he said. "You do not know how happy that makes me."
"Just get on with it," Gilbert snapped, pushing off the mattress and crossing his arms.
"Gilbert, you must understand," Wilhelm explained. "I never planned for this to happen. But… when your mother and brother died… I was a wreck."
Ludwig shifted uncomfortably while Gilbert hissed, eyes narrowing. Their mother and brother were taboo subjects, never to be discussed. Ludwig hadn't been old enough to remember them when they had died, but Gilbert had. It had taken a few years of Ludwig asking before he realized how uncomfortable Gilbert and his father felt were when it came to them.
"I was heartbroken," Wilhelm went on. "In one fatal swoop I had lost the love of my life and my first born son. I'd never felt pain like that before, even when your grandfather passed."
The blonde smiled at memories of his grandfather, Old Fritz. Of sitting on his knee as he told stories, of listening to his flute playing, of watching black and white movies with him, of listening to him recite poetry and stories as he tucked Ludwig into bed. He and Gilbert had been mightily close, and when the old man died, Gilbert had been devastated.
"I was so involved in my pain that I neglected you and your brother and your cousins," Wilhelm said. "I was so miserable that just couldn't deal with you kids. And when I finally pulled my head out of my ass, it was too late. The damage had been done, and you, Gilbert, had suffered the most."
"You weren't there…" Gilbert whispered, eyes narrowed and a scowl on his face. Ludwig swore he saw a tear slip out the corner of his eye. "I was barely holding it together and you just… it was like you didn't care."
"I know," Wilhelm responded, misery dripping from his every word. "I know, and not a single day goes by now that I don't think of how horrible I was."
Gilbert began pacing again, hands tangled in his hair.
"Do you know what was so horrible about all that?" Gilbert said. "About it now? Is the fact that no matter what I did, no matter what I do, you won't look at me."
Wilhelm hung his head.
"I mean, I know I'm a freak, alright? I know how I look and I know that I'm screwed up and, for intents and purposes, I shouldn't really be here. I should have died when mutti gave birth to me and I know that I've disgraced this family since then because of what I am but until mutti and Caesar died I never knew how much you really hated that we shared the same last name."
"Gilbert," Wilhelm tried, but Gilbert went on.
"And I know that you wish that I was the one in the car with mutti that night instead of Caesar and that you wouldn't have to deal with such a screw up but I just… I can't understand it because mutti and Caesar loved me and Ludwig loves me even if I'm a nuisance to him and I just can't figure out why they can still love me when I look like this and you can't."
Ludwig was frozen in place, eyes wide, as he stared at his brother. He had known that Gilbert was self-conscious about the way he looked. He was pale, much too pale, and his eyes were an odd color. But he wasn't a true albino either, his hair still had a silver pigment and his irises weren't a true red color. He was neither albino nor normal; a man trapped between two worlds.
But he had never knew that Gilbert had kept these feelings inside, silent to the world around him. Oh, sure, he knew that Gilbert had other self-esteem issues, but not about this.
Never in his life did Ludwig wish that their father would just say something, do something, to make the monsters in the room disappear.
"I mean, amd I really that much of a disgrace to you?" Ludwig was horrified when he looked at Gilbert and saw the man standing next their father, fists shoved deep in his pockets and his shoulders hunched, tears openly streaming down his face. Ludwig had never seen his brother cry before; not when their mother and brother died, not when Old Fritz died, and not when their beloved Great Dane died when they were teenagers.
And, for the first time in years, Wilhelm looked up into his son's eyes, gaze unwavering. "Mein Junge," he whispered. "I am so, so sorry. I never, never meant for you to feel this way, and in my entire life, I have never regretted my choices more."
Gilbert let out a choked sob, shutting his eyes as the tears flowed.
Wilhelm, with movements slow, reached out his old, weathered and withered hand, and clasped his long fingers around Gilbert's arm. Gilbert flinched, but other than that, made no move.
"But the one thing I do not regret, will never regret, is that you are my son," he said, voice full of emotion. "The day you were born was one of the best days of my life. I was so happy when I walked into that hospital room and saw you with your mother. It didn't matter to me what you looked like; all that mattered is that you were healthy and strong and alive. I worried consistently throughout your mother's pregnancy with you."
"Then why," Gilbert whispered. "Why did you neglect me like that?"
Wordlessly, Wilhelm gently pulled Gilbert's hand from his pocket and grasped it as tightly as he could.
"It is because every time I looked at you, all I could see was them," he replied, just as quietly.
Gilbert's eyes snapped open wide.
"What?"
The elderly man ran a thumb soothingly across the back of Gilbert's hand, giving him a sad smile. "You look so much like your mother," he said. "Her face, the expression in her eyes is the same in yours. You have her build and her laugh and her spirit. And that stubbornness and wit you copied from Caesar, who you used to follow around constantly. But then they were suddenly gone and I just… It physically caused me pain to look at you and see them in everything you did and every way you acted and spoke."
Gilbert looked to be at war with himself, biting his lip harshly as he snorted out his ragged breathing, eyes clenched shut tightly and shoulders tense.
"What I did, Gilbert, was wrong," Wilhelm told him. "I put my own problems above you and that's something that I can never forgive myself for. And I don't expect you to forgive me, either, because I can't even begin to comprehend what you went through. But I do just want you to understand the reason why I acted that way, and maybe, someday, you can look on my memory and not feel anger and hatred.
"It's taken me almost two decades to tell you, but just know that I have always, and I will always, love you, for exactly who are, and I am so proud of the man you've become. So don't ever change, Gilbert, because you are one of the lights of my life, and I couldn't bare to see that light go out."
The room was silent for a long moment, the beeping of the machines hooked up to the dying man the only sounds.
Suddenly, Gilbert let out a small wail that startled Ludwig and Wilhelm, headed tilted to the ceiling as tears streamed down his cheeks, before he collapsed to his knees, forehead resting on the edge of the mattress by his father's hips as his other hand came up to grip desperately at Wilhelm's grip on his other one. Wilhelm, shocked for a moment, raised his free hand and gently smoothed it through the sobbing man's hair.
"I'm sorry," Gilbert muttered. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." His voice came out garbled and muffled and full of unguarded emotion.
"Oh, mein Sohn," Wilhelm said, tears leaking out of his own eyes. "You are not at fault. You never have been at fault."
Gilbert raised his teary face and looked at his father. The raw emotion in those eyes was so unbridled that Ludwig could see them from his seat by the window.
"I don't want you to go," he choked out, voice barely a whisper.
Ludwig felt a lump in his throat as he swallowed, and he clapped his hands over his mouth to keep from making a sound.
Wilhelm smiled sadly at Gilbert, taking raising his hand and gently kissing Gilbert's own still in his grip. "I am tired, Gilbert," he sighed.
Gilbert looked positively stricken. "Is it because of me?" he whispered.
"No," Wilhelm said forcefully. "I am not tired because of you. I am tired because this life has come to an end for me. I have accomplished what I wanted, and now it is time for me to go."
"Vati," Gilbert sobbed, looking and sounding like a small child. "I forgive you. Will you stay?"
Wilhelm smiled at him, moving his hand from Gilbert's hair to his cheek, cupping his face, tears dripping from his own eyes. "I'm afraid it doesn't work like that, Gil." He attempted to wipe off his wet face, but there was no use.
Ludwig let out a soft keening sound, eyes wide as the tears from Gilbert's eyes increased. His father turned to him, now, and smiled, letting go of Gilbert's face to gesture to his youngest child.
"Ludwig," he sighed, reaching out his arm. "Come here, Kind."
Without needing to be told twice, Ludwig shot from his seat and into his father's waiting arm, practically climbing into bed with him as he engulfed him in a hug, burying his face into the man's neck. Wilhelm's arm, still long but not as strong as he remembered, wrapped around the blonde, pulling him closer.
"Oh, mein Jungs," Wilhelm sighed. He pressed a kiss to Ludwig's forehead, then to Gilbert's hand once more. "Mein, Jungs, Ich liebe dich."
"Nicht gehen, vati," Ludwig sobbed.
"Bitte nicht gehen," Gilbert agreed.
Wilhelm settled back into the cushions. "I will try," he told them. "For you, Jungs, I will try."
Gilbert nodded once, pressing his forehead into the mattress again. Ludwig let out a few more tears before he pulled up, wiping his eyes.
"I should get the others," he said.
Wilhelm stopped him gently. "No," he said. "I've made my peace with them. A father's last moments should be with his sons."
Ludwig nodded, scrubbing more at his face.
"I think, however, that it would be nice to lay together," Wilhelm said softly. "Like we did when you were small."
"Vati, the bed won't fit all three of us," Ludwig said, frowning.
Suddenly, the bed was turning at the same moment that Gilbert was standing. Startled, the two blondes turned to him, but then he stopped. With Ludwig and Wilhelm in the bed already, it was cramped, but Gilbert was smaller, and he somehow fit in between the barrier and his father.
The three gazed out the window of the room to the night sky, dotted with sparkling stars in an inky black blanket. Ludwig smiled, settling against his father while Gilbert stared straight at the sky, tears still going, and reached across to grip Ludwig's hand. His other hand held tightly to Wilhelm's.
"Gorgeous," Wilhelm whispered.
"Just like when we went camping as kids," Ludwig agreed.
A falling star flew across the canvas, and the three men silently made their own wish, eyes wide and wet and faces contorted with pain and hope and love.
Slowly, as the three lay there and pointed out constellations and told stories of a time long past, back when there was a beautiful woman with them and an eager blonde-haired child, their tears stopped. Gilbert talked more, but his grip, a constant reminder to both him and Wilhelm that things were better, never wavered.
An hour passed like this, then two, and Ludwig felt that tear in his family close. That was, until Wilhelm kissed Ludwig once more, then Gilbert, and closed his eyes.
"Vati, don't sleep," Ludwig warned.
"Just resting these old eyes," Wilhelm told him with a small smile. "Don't worry."
"Do you think Mutti and Caesar are up there?" Gilbert asked quietly.
"In the stars?" Ludwig frowned.
"Ja," Gilbert said. "Mutti always liked the stars."
"I remember…" Ludwig said slowly, memory forming. It was fuzzy and blurry, and only bits and pieces were there, but he distinctly remembered the moon earrings their mother wore, and the flash of a star on a necklace.
"Maybe she is a star," Gilbert said. "She was pretty enough to be one."
"What about Caesar?"
"He's a star too, of course. He's just one of those that likes to blink."
"Why?"
"'Cause he was always freaking out over something," Gilbert smiled softly. "Mutti's just bright and unwavering."
Ludwig smiled. "Yeah, I can see that."
The two were silent for a long moment, eyes roaming over the vast expanse of twinkling black before them. Gilbert's head was on Wilhelm's shoulder. Ludwig was lying his side, curled around his father. Ludwig's arm stretched over Wilhelm's middle, meeting with Gilbert's. The machines were turned off, only the vital ones that were silent were still on.
So when Wilhelm stopped breathing, when his chest failed to rise once more, when his comforting breath didn't ghost over Ludwig's hair, and when his grip on Gilbert's hand loosened, the brothers froze.
It was a moment before the tears came afresh, both brothers turning towards each other instinctively. Ludwig buried his face in his father's still chest, hand tightening around Gilbert's. The other man gripped it in an iron grip.
Neither made a sound, their tears and grief as silent as the stars that shone above them.
Their father had lived a long life, Ludwig knew. And he also knew that all lives had to end, no matter who the person was. He was just glad that their father and Gilbert had made peace before he went, for both their sakes.
Ludwig wasn't sure sure which of them spoke it, but he was strangely comforted by the statement.
"Gute Nacht, vati."
At least Wilhelm had died with his sons in his arms and a smile on his face.