To say that twenty seven year old Gilbert Beilschmidt was nervous would be the understatement of the century. Anxiety rattled him to his very core, and while he blamed the shudders that ran down his spine on the cold (and subconsciously tightened his jacket around him), he knew that wasn't the case. Going home should not be this terrifying. The thought was fleeting, yet returned and lingered moments later. When had this happened? When had home stopped being warm and inviting? Gilbert, of course, knew the answer. That shift had happened three years before. Three long years since he'd seen his mother and father, since he'd stepped foot in the place he'd grown up in…

He couldn't help but wonder how much had changed.

Taking one last deep, shaky breath, Gilbert approached the long driveway, snow crunching under his boots as he made the once familiar trek to the small house he had grown up in. His best memories had been here, everything he cared about… Maybe he had just cared too much. One hard knock, then another, pale knuckles turning red from the force against the hard door, as Gilbert took a step back, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he waited.

As the door swung open, Gilbert found himself forcing a smile to his lips, crimson eyes holding false joy. "Mutti." He greeted, wrapping slender arms around the short woman, cradling her to his chest in a tight, protective hug. For all he'd ached to stay away, he truly had missed her. He just couldn't bear to face her before this, and even now, a ball of guilt was steadily growing in his stomach until it threatened to devour him. He pushed it aside. There was no point dwelling on that now, he didn't want to hurt his mother by being anything other than happy to be home.

"Look at you… I'd almost forgotten what you looked like you've been gone so long." His mother teased, her smile warm and inviting. For a moment, just a moment, Gilbert could almost pretend like everything was alright. Like it was the same as it always had been. God, how he ached to lose himself in that delusion, to melt into the comfort of his mother's smile! Yet, the truth of the matter remained in his mind, nagging him until he felt sick.

"Yeah, sorry about that, Mutti." He replied sheepishly as he stabbed his fingers through ivory tresses, shaking the snowflakes from the soft locks. "Life's just been… busy. Work gets crazy around the holidays especially, so they usually need me there." That was a lie, and if it were the worst one he'd told her in the past decade, he'd have felt bad. But lying was second nature now, and this seemed the least harmful. "I'm here now though, right?"

Not that he'd be staying long. A day or two, then he was flying back, running as fast and as far as he could from this place. After that? He'd considered taking up Antonio on his offer to see the world for a while. At least then, maybe he could run from the past. With his luck, the nightmares would likely follow him.

"Are you going to see your brother while your home?" His mother questioned, even as the grim silence settled over the room, unvoiced but unmistakable. There it was. His brother. God, how much he had missed Ludwig, his darling Ludwig. More than his mother would ever understand. More than he would ever want her to.

Lips brushed together in the dead of the night, arms clutching on tightly as reverent kisses were pressed to every inch of porcelain skin that was reachable. Nose, cheeks, brushed against eyelids tenderly…

"I love you."

"Say it again."

"I love you."

"Again."

"Ludwig…"

"Just once more, please."

A smile tugged at his lips, as he cradled the younger man's face in his hands, crimson meeting cerulean and holding, shining with such adoration that it was impossible to doubt it.

"I love you so much. More than anyone. Ludwig. My Ludwig…"

Gilbert pushed the memory from his mind. Wrong. It had been wrong, they had been wrong. How many years now had he spent trying to convince himself of that. The ball of guilt once more coiled in his stomach, as he stared at his lap. His fault. It had been his fault entirely, never his sweet, darling angels. Ludwig had been a gift from God himself, one Gilbert had tainted.

"...Yes, I'll go see him tonight." His voice was tired and wary as he spoke, and his mother offered him a sympathetic smile as she reached out to pat his hand lovingly before moving to the kitchen to start on dinner. And Gilbert tried. O, how he tried to pretend for her, to act as though nothing had changed. He smiled, and he laughed and he reminisced, even if it was killing him inside. It was only when she had fallen into slumber that he pulled on his coat and boots once more, slipping into the night.

The only sound that met his ears was the sound of his own footsteps in the freshly fallen snow, and the pounding of his heart, now seized up as though in someone's fist. As though he had expected anything less. It felt like forever until Gilbert finally stopped, crimson eyes blank as he stared forward, trying to keep everything from bubbling to the surface once more. This was it. Time to face it like a man, to stop running…

He fell to his knees in the snow, tears welling in his eyes as timid fingers reached out, then pulled back hesitantly. "I'm so sorry…" He whispered, voice broken and meek. Ludwig was the only one who had ever seen that side of him. That would not change, especially not now, as the salty liquid froze to his skin, barely felt amidst the pain in his chest. "I love you…"

Say it again.

"I've always loved you…"

Again.

"Ludwig…"

Please bruder. Just once more.

"I've always loved you… and I always will. I miss you. I miss you so much."

The cold, grey stone in front of him remained silent, even with Gilbert's silent wishing that he would hear his brother's voice behind him, telling him to get up and stop talking to a damn rock. The headstone forced him to face everything he'd been running from for so long. Ludwig was dead. He had been for three years. Gilbert hadn't been at the funeral. He hadn't watched as the only person he'd truly loved was lowered into the ground. He hadn't held his mother as she'd cried.

He'd run. Gilbert was a coward, even then he'd known that. But how could he face it? How could he know his brother was gone? It should have been him in that car with Ludwig. The blonde boy had pleaded with him to come to the movie too, but Gilbert had declined, citing that he had already made plans with Francis that night.

He'd heard the news on the radio before he'd ever gotten home. A drunk driver had slammed into the driver side of Ludwig's car, and the twenty one year old had been killed instantly. At least he'd never felt it. That was the only thing Gilbert had to console himself with.

"I'm so sorry…." Once more, his frail frame began to shake, this time with sobs as he rested his head against the stone.

"I love you."

You know I love you too.

"I always will."