+ DIAMOND DOGS +
He worked in an office; tech support, to be exact. It was dull work, unsurprisingly. The confines of the off-white cubicles and matching floor and ceiling tiles seemed to close in with each passing day until it was hard to breathe. You were shackled to your neat desk in your neat white shirt and neat polished shoes.
"Is it plugged in? Have you tired turning it on and off?"
Think to the last time a telemarketer called you. They speak with a forced cheerfulness as they chirp in your ear and try to sell you double glazing. That's how some of them cope, he could hear it around them. Then there were others like him who merely answered the phone with a professional drawl. It had been years and still he didn't understand why anyone would even attempt to fake any sort of enthusiasm for this. Perhaps they were just trying to convince themselves, but he had always prided himself on being a realist.
Dozens of these calls everyday. Hundreds over months. Thousands over the years he had been working there. He was simply one bit of a much larger machine, a minuscule part programmed for this one tedious purpose to keep it running smoothly.
"Is it plugged in?"
Occasionally he visited a therapist. He'd sit in a too-soft chair across from hers and talk at the faded floral wallpaper on the far wall instead of directly at her. At the end of the day they both knew it was just a process. All he really needed was his medication. Popping pills kept him functioning enough to go about the tedious routine that had dragged him down in the first place.
A vaguely depressing circle, but such was life.
"Have you tried turning it on and off?"
He wasn't living. He was merely existing. He knew it, everyone around him knew it. But people are self-centred creatures, they'd rather stay ignorant to the problems of other people for their own peace of mind. That way they could sleep at night.
He couldn't remember the last time he had slept a full night.
Drink offered a pleasant escape. His mind no longer felt weighed down by the mere state of being he was in. He sat in his usual seat by the bar. It was a dark place that always played lifeless jazz on an old radio, but it was usually quiet and he could smoke in there. He had just been greeted by the bottom of glass number three when the barman set another pint down in front of him.
"What's this?"
"From the guy at the end of the bar."
He considered the glass for a moment. Then he raised it to his lips, looking out the corner of his eye to the man the barman had pointed out.
He had been coming in here for years. Most of the other regulars consisted of other weary looking white collars and old men staring into their glasses and waiting for the end. Perhaps if any of them had the energy to talk among each other, they might empathize.
But people are selfish creatures.
They didn't need the problems of strangers piling atop their own. It was easier to sit and wallow in self pity, half-hearing the same, old, lifeless jazz.
He had never seen him here before. This man was not like them. The man wore a crisp white shirt and a waistcoat, his arm adorned with an expensive-looking silver watch. His hair was thick and tousled, chestnut in colour. Although he was dressed smartly, he didn't look like he was a businessman. Stylish, he supposed, though he would know little about that sort of thing.
It was as he was thinking this that bright amber eyes caught his own.
A wink. That was all. If there was any kind of smiling accompanying it, he didn't catch it. Then the man was out the door, leaving the dregs of a creamy beverage behind.
That was the first time the strange man had bought him a drink. From then on whenever he went to that bar, after nursing a few pints, another would be set down in front of him, and the bartender would always point out the same man. He never sat in the same place, but the stylish clothes and bright smile he flashed when they made eye contact was unmistakeable.
Why.
It was unsettling. The man never spoke to him. He never gave him more than a glance in thanks. Such unanswered oddities made him feel on edge, no matter how minor.
Eventually, after several weeks, he had enough.
The bartender set down the glass and pointed out the man. Instead of an over the shoulder glance, he stood up this time, drink in hand, and strode over to the booth where the man was sitting. He didn't ask for an invitation to sit. He set the beer down between them steepling his fingers and leaning over the table, talking in a low voice.
"Why."
The man didn't seemed very surprised by his sudden intrusion. He only flashed him that all-too familiar smile.
"I'm sorry?"
"For two weeks and five days you have been buying me drinks without so much as an explanation." He narrowed his eyes, his suspicion deliberately obvious. "Why?"
The man inclined his head, finger tracing the delicate rim of his glass. "Do I really," he leaned closer then, tongue flicking across his lower lip, "need an excuse to buy a nice-looking man a drink?"
He couldn't help it, his face heated and his grip tightened. "It's a bit odd to do it for nearly three weeks straight without a word."
The man hummed thoughtfully and took a small sip of his drink. For a moment, he thought he wasn't going to get any more out of the other man. Though, after placing his glass down, he spoke again.
"My name's Feliciano!" Another smile, impossibly wide. "What's yours'?"
The exchange of names is a more significant moment than people realise. It is usually one of the first pieces of information you find out about a person. It marks the start of accepting someone else into your existence, whether you become the best of friends for life or simply an one-off acquaintance. Being as socially awkward as he was, he hesitated, and he felt quite right to do so, but at the same time he found himself strangely curious.
"Ludwig," he eventually replied, "My name is Ludwig."
"It's very nice to meet you, Ludwig." Feliciano squirmed excitedly in his chair, arms straight and hands on his lap. "Oh, I've really been looking forward to this!"
"Looking forward to... what?"
Ludwig was laughed at. "To when your curiosity got the better of you!"
Ludwig frowned at this. Did this... Feliciano have some sort of ulterior motive? After speaking with him, he didn't seem to have a malicious personality, but... he was never terribly good at reading people. That was why he preferred to avoid them.
"Your unexplained generosity simply made it... uncomfortable for me to drink in peace."
"Like I already said, do I really need an excuse to buy a handsome man a drink?"
Ludwig wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he didn't. After another patch of silence that only seemed awkward on Ludwig's behalf, Feliciano suddenly stood up. "Well, Ludwig, I'm glad we talked."
He blinked. "Is... that it?"
"What more did you expect?" Feliciano chirped, shrugging on a jacket Ludwig didn't notice he had. "Ah, I should probably tell you I won't be coming back here any more!"
"Huh?"
"I mean, you don't seem very interested and you said I disturbed you, so wouldn't it be best if I left for good?"
"I didn't mean-."
"But," in the rush of the one-sided conversation, Feliciano placed a card over the brim of Ludwig's glass, the corners only just reaching the sides, "if you ever want some excitement—and, not to be rude, but you look like you could use some!- you should give me a call. Goodbye!"
And before Ludwig could say any more, his strange new acquaintance was skipping out the door and out into the dark streets.
Ludwig went home soon after. He had taken the small white card. Of course he had. As Feliciano had pointed out, his curiosity had gotten the better of him. It was roused further by the absence of a name or any other details other than a mobile number in small neat print centred on one side of the card. Was Feliciano even his name? Why would one carry business cards lacking in information anyway?
He placed the card by his hallway telephone with a sigh, proceeding to shrug of his coat and put it to the back of his mind for precisely eight days.
It had been one of those days. Work had been especially aggravating though not particularly extraordinary, he had been forced to sit through yet another pointless therapy session and, to top it all of, drink didn't seem to be helping that evening. Admitting defeat in depressingly sober state, he had returned home.
That morning, the radio had informed Ludwig of a ghastly traffic accident that had taken place on a nearby road. Typical of any down-trodden white collar, he could only feel bitter that it might make him late for yet another tedious day at the office. As much as he loathed having to face that cubicle everyday, Ludwig was a punctual, dutiful man, and that is why he had left thirty two minutes earlier than usual. This meant that he had missed the post that morning only by a few minutes, and also than he was greeted by a pile of white rectangular envelopes upon returning home. Bills, bills, and more bills, no doubt. Perhaps some rubbish flyers. Still, he picked them up and shifted through them, not bothering to open any of them just yet.
At the back of the pile was something out of the ordinary: a postcard. An incredibly tacky postcard picturing a beach and a... rather scantily clad young lady. He could guess who this was from without even turning it over. Sure enough, it was a card from his brother, Gilbert.
Gilbert and Ludwig had very little in common. Gilbert relished getting into fights and playing violent war games, whereas Ludwig preferred books and making model aircraft. Seeing as he was a scrawny little thing until his end years in high school, such activities probably and occasionally did result in him crying to their father with a manner of scrapes and bruises. Needless to say, Ludwig had been the studious sibling, Gilbert had been... well, off doing whatever he wanted. That hadn't changed. After hopping around shift jobs for years, he had announced one day that enough was enough; he wanted to go somewhere and do something, as he put it, awesome.
And he had. He had been travelling for just over a year now, going wherever he felt like and getting by how he could, sending back occasional letters and cards to his brother whenever he managed to remember. They were full of his recent exploits and his current location, along with some well-intentioned banter. Sometimes, if he was planning to stay somewhere a while, he would give an address and Ludwig would send something back, but there was no address this time. Only a cheery farewell and a promise he would write again in the next month or try to call.
Ludwig found himself smiling by the time he reached the conclusion of the rambling scrawl. It was nice to see his brother enjoying himself, even if he was probably getting into trouble doing it. His spontaneous and usually crudely decorated cards also quelled the ache of monotony, if only for a short while.
He went to place the postcard in a pile by the telephone, where he keep all of his brother's correspondence, when the little white card took his notice again, placed neatly atop the pile. He found himself staring at it for quite a while.
If you ever want some excitement—and, not to be rude, but you look like you could use some!- you should give me a call.
Ludwig would later attribute his next action to an odd state of mind, but he found himself tapping in the digits and listening to the series of bleeps as the number was dialled.
To his credit, he didn't debate hanging up until the fourth ring.
As the fifth begun he had just went to move the phone away from his ear, but a chirpy voice answered the phone with a bright Pronto!
Ludwig took a moment to answer. He wasn't entirely sure where he would go with this. "Er, hallo. This is Feliciano, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is!" Came the equally happy reply, "Oh, that's you isn't it, Ludwig? I can tell because of the accent!"
"Brilliantly deduced," he couldn't help but respond dryly in response to the slightly grating enthusiasm in the other man's voice.
Unperturbed, Feliciano continued, "I wondered when you'd call!"
"I've been... working up to it." Ludwig admitted punctuating by awkwardly clearing his throat.
"For two weeks?" He could feel the other man raise an eyebrow, but still he laughed again. Then his voice dropped, still pleasant, though tinged with something else Ludwig couldn't quite place. "Intimidated?"
Ludwig swallowed. "Vaguely."
A heavy pause brought an abrupt end to the short conversation. Strange how silences seem to last longer on the phone; you can't simply look at the other person and try to figure them out if you were together in person.
Feliciano chuckled softly, "Well, since you aren't going to ask- would you like to go out?"
"Go... out?"
"Oh, nothing like that, if you don't want to."
"What did you have in mind?"
"I don't really know yet! Guess I'll figure that out on the drive over!"
"The drive- you mean, tonight-?"
"Why, are you busy right now?"
Ludwig didn't even have to think about that, not with his pitifully empty life. "No, but... it's rather short notice."
"But you said you're not busy, so there's no problem! Where about do you live?"
Ludwig didn't even bother repressing a sigh, but reiterated his address.
"Right! I'll be over in an hour or so. See you!"
And then he hung up before Ludwig could protest any further. He spent a moment looking at the phone, then finally placed it back in the dock with a beep. This was odd: he actually had something to do after work other than drink heavily and watch the sci-fi channel. Ludwig was pretty certain he had seen every episode of Red Dwarf at least twenty two times now.
He took off his tie and slumped down on the sofa to wait and, one hour and twenty minutes later, there was a knock at his door.
Feliciano had abandoned the obnoxiously designer wardrobe in favour of a loose long-sleeve top and a pair shorts that day, though they still looked like they cost more than the shirt Ludwig had on his back. He looked too young and Ludwig felt vaguely creepy for a moment, before remembering he could clearly drive a car and drink bars.
"Hello, Ludwig!" He greeted him cheerfully with a slight wave, "Are you ready, then? Shall we leave?"
"Er, well, all right." Ludwig said, grabbing his keys from the hallway table before following the other man down the steps. Feliciano unnecessarily opened the car door for him, and he got inside.
"So," Ludwig said after a stretched moment, "if you don't mind me asking, where are we going?"
Feliciano simply shrugged. "Anywhere we want to! The next town over, the one after that, maybe even to the next state over."
Being his downright humourless self, Ludwig didn't laugh even if he was supposed to. "Seriously, where are we going?"
Feliciano looked at him with a playful crinkle of his brow, "I was being serious."
Ludwig started to say something else, but Feliciano's gaze went back to the road ahead. He decided to, as they say, go with the flow, just this once. He sank back into the soft leather seats of Feliciano's admittedly stunning car, and eventually managed to engross himself in watching the scenery pass by. Now that he wasn't driving, there is no pressure to focus on the traffic jams and taxis pulling out of nowhere. He could enjoy the ride, even taking the chance to properly admire the architecture of the towering buildings around them.
It was beginning to get dark when they pulled up into a side street. Feliciano turned off the ignition and hopped out to grab a bag from the back seat. Ludwig was barely out of the car when the other man began excitedly tugging at his sleeve.
"Come on, Ludwig!" He ushered, slinging the backpack over one shoulder.
He soon found himself being led through familiar streets, and to the fence of an abandoned multi-story car park. He knew the car park; it was atop a slight slope that led to a dodgy video rental shop that had once charged him late fees for a variety of embarrassing films by mistake when he had only taken out Pulp Fiction. He had no idea, however, why Feliciano had brought him here.
"In here? Really?" He asked as Feliciano slid through a gap in the fence and smiled at him expectantly.
"Really!" was his answer, and he took off happily over the dusty ground as Ludwig followed and winced as he felt broken glass crunch under his work shoes.
Feliciano's out of tune whistling echoed through the abandoned floors of the car park. It would have been creepy had it not been for the dark orange light pouring in from the setting sun, and the fact he kept turning around to smile at him with words of encouragement that they were nearly there. They reached the roof, and Ludwig took a moment to admire the city laid out before him. It felt rather nice up here, able to look down on the busy streets without feeling lost within them. He stood there long enough for Feliciano to empty the contents of his backpack, then felt a tug at his trouser leg.
He looked down to see Feliciano kneeling in front of him, grinning. "Sit down, Ludwig!"
He didn't really want to sit down on the dusty floor, but luckily Feliciano had though of that and put down a picnic blanket. In the middle of it sat a foil barbecue, tupperware boxes and utensils.
"This was your plan, then?" He remarked as he sat down. Feliciano hummed in response and began peeling off the lids of the containers, revealing burgers, sausages and other foods. "Why did we have to come up here for it? I have a garden, you know."
"We didn't have to, Ludwig." Feliciano huffed, trying to light a match and failing. " But it's funner this way, right? No one else here but us! It feels like a little adventure!"
He went through three more matches before surrendering the box to Ludwig, who was momentarily distracted by lighting the barbecue.
They sat there until the moon was out, Feliciano chattering away and pushing more and more food. When the food was gone and the barbecue began to fizzle out, Feliciano dug around in his bag and pulled out something Ludwig hadn't been expecting-
"Sparklers. Really."
"Yes! Didn't you ever have them when you where young?"
"Occasionally, but they're for children."
Feliciano puffed out his cheeks and held out a sparkler. Ludwig took it without further protest.
"Does it matter? They're fun."
They sat on the edge of the building, sparklers in hand. Feliciano drew patterns in the air with his, and Ludwig was quite content to watch him. Feliciano began to tell Ludwig about star consolations, mapping out where the pollution of the city hid the burning balls of light with deft fingers.
They only left when Ludwig's last sparkler died out, the flickers of white fading into the night air.
It wasn't the last time that Ludwig and Feliciano saw each other. Ludwig had waited just over a week before calling again, not wanting to give the wrong impression, and Feliciano had taken him to a musty doll museum he had never knew existed, manned by a single old lady sat in front of an antique register, who never uttered a single word. After that an art gallery full of light sculptures and though Ludwig had never found art to be all that interesting, he was content to listen to Feliciano's excitable babble- of course he was an artist, how else could he be so eccentric? So their excursions continued, sometimes in the evenings after work, sometimes at weekends- then they would be grander. One Sunday Feliciano drove them to the outskirts of town and they spent the day walking through crystal caves.
His therapist remarked one day that he seemed much more at ease during their next appointment. Ludwig replied, in all truth, that he certainly felt it. It was as if the young man that had clumsily entered his life was slowly opening his eyes to a world beyond paperwork and monotony. He had needed that.
It was one day, after a particularly trying day involving a insistently wrong client who shouldn't even be allowed a computer and getting the blame for breaking the copier, that he and Feliciano ended up in a vodka bar tucked away down an alleyway, two floors above a regular pub.
"They call this a secret bar, you know." Feliciano informed him as he flipped over the menu- an extensive selection only boosting different vodka mixes. "I've heard it's nice. Friendly, but quiet. I thought you might need a drink and a bit of peace tonight."
Ludwig couldn't help but smile a bit at that, "You know me well."
Feliciano grinned and skipped off towards the bar, leaning on the counter and pointing out several drinks on the menu. He ended up returning to their table with a small tray of shots of all different colours and consistencies, and they took turns to pick one out and down them. It was rather amusing to watch Feliciano get tipsy so easily; Ludwig mentioned this and the Italian had puffed up his cheeks indignantly and informed Ludwig he was used to wine. Still, Ludwig quickly caught up with his companion and soon enough they were completely legless and how on earth did Feliciano even end up sprawled over his lap.
"You can't get home like this," Feliciano laughed as Ludwig swayed trying to stand, "My room's not far from here, let's go there. I have wine. Good wine."
Leaning on each other to aid their balance and narrowly avoiding being ran over by a rickshaw, they had miraculously made it to Feliciano's hotel a few streets away. Not that Ludwig really remembered stumbling drunkenly past the doorman into the sophisticated marble hallways- he could only later recall how soft Feliciano's bed was, that the wine was indeed good and whatever was in that cigarette was certainly not tobacco, but pleasant none the less.
The sweet scent of the smoke lingered; Ludwig couldn't remember a time he had felt so at ease. His eyes fluttered shut as Feliciano nuzzled his neck, equally content.
There were slim fingers and rough fingertips sneaking past the buttons of his shirt and wandering over his chest, accompanied by a quiet chuckle and a comment of how firm Ludwig was. The soft touches were good- very good, vaguely ticklish.
"Ludwig," Feliciano breathed against his ear, voice low and as soft as his touches, "you're a very handsome man, you know."
Ludwig turned his head, brain clunking in an effort to interpret the information and form some sort of an answer. The best it could do was, "You too."
"I'm sure Ludwig has more than a handsome face too," Feliciano replied, moving to straddle Ludwig's lap, fingers leaving his chest and trailing over the bottom edge of his belt buckle. "I'd really like to find out for sure."
In his current state Ludwig was more than happy to comply with Feliciano clumsily undressing them, only groaning quietly when the other man touched, squeezed, licked in all the right places. His body reacted, but his mind retained the floating feeling that made him manage to lose himself in soft skin and kisses without his nerves rattling. They were finally pressed against each other, tan skin on pale white, tongues lapping lax against one another in wet, open-mouthed kisses- then Feliciano sat up and smiled loosely down at him.
Everything seemed so placid yet went so fast- a slick hand on him, a tight warmth, then Feliciano was moving, taking him in again. And again. And again.
This was a monotony he would gladly relish in.
Ludwig awoke the next day to fractures of rainbow light patterning the ceiling, reflected on the glass of the chandelier. His morning instinct was to push himself up out of bed and get dressed, which he partly managed to accomplish, only his head felt like it was repeatedly being smashed between two saucepans and his legs couldn't seem to comprehend balance.
Though extremely disoriented, he managed to locate his underwear near to the bed, and pulled them on with a yawn. It was only when the waistband settled firmly against his hips did he glance down. Light scratches down his chest. A scrutinizing glance sideways also revealed nail marks on his shoulders. It was then, as he began to feel the dull ache of his wounds, the realisation he had lost his virginity as the result of a one night stand suddenly hit.
Shit.
Oh shit.
This was why he never drank wine.
As he stood there, a mixture of odd feelings rising inside him as his memories caught with him. He started when Feliciano suddenly groaned, and he turned to see him flopping over on to his back and rubbing at his eyes.
"What are you doing?" He whined tiredly, his other hand reaching out for the clock on the night-stand. He looked at the face and groaned again.
"I- I have to go to work," he announced, snapping back into action and grabbing his shirt, crumpled from spending the night in a heap on the floor. He busied himself fumbling with the buttons, covering himself up. He would deal with this later.
Feliciano watched him dart around the room, snatching up random articles of his clothing and throwing them on as they were found. He rolled over again, this time sprawled out on his stomach. He caught Ludwig's eye again as he arched his back with a satisfying crack that made him groan. An all too familiar sound now.
"Why don't you just come back to bed?"
"Wh- what?" Ludwig was attempting to smooth his hair down with one hand and pull on a sock with the other. "I can't. I... I just can't."
In his search for his missing sock Ludwig was forced to return to the bed, crouching down and groping blindly underneath it.
"You could." Feliciano said from above, "You could stay here with me and we could lie in bed all day, order room service..."
Ludwig emerged victorious, sock in hand. Without thinking he placed a hand against the mattress to push himself back up. He felt Feliciano's fingertips graze his knuckles.
"That sounds a lot nicer than work, doesn't it, Ludwig?"
Ludwig stared at the other man. His hair was tousled, his eyes dark and the sheet was barely covering him. It was tempting. Very tempting.
"No, Feliciano." He said, firmly, backing away. "I really have to go."
"Oh."
Feliciano's gaze dropped and he fell silent. He kneaded the bedcovers between his fingers as Ludwig resumed his quest to find his articles of clothing. The silence was painfully awkward on Ludwig's part, but Feliciano merely seemed to be considering something with the hint of a pout.
Ludwig was shrugging on his jacket. That was when Feliciano spoke again.
"Ludwig?"
"What?"
"...you might want to check the mirror."
It was with a feeling of muggy dread that Ludwig walked the few blocks to work that morning, his dishevelled appearance gaining him a few musing glances as he entered the building. The blooming purple bites on his neck also earned him a few raised eyebrows.
"You look proper rough."
Ludwig turned blearily around in his swivel chair just seconds after plonking himself down. He was scrutinized by his boss's sharp, green eyes; his oddly-buttoned shirt, crumpled trousers and ruffled hair usually so compulsively slicked back. As with the receptionist, the security guard, and the group of awkward-looking interns he'd had to share a lift with, his gaze lingered on the dark bruises. He did not look impressed.
"I-,"
"You're also three hours late."
"I can explain that-,"
"I'm sure you could, but," he made a point of flickering his eyes down to Ludwig's neck again, "I'm sure I really do not need to hear about it. Being late itself, however, is a serious matter, especially when it's three damn hours-"
Normally, Ludwig would accept this scolding silently with only a bit of annoyance. He had dealt with it when he was ten minutes late, returning after he had been forced to call in his only sick day ever, and other trivial matters.
But all things considered, he then thought, I don't deserve this.
He looked back at his boss- arms crossed over his hideous sweater vest and his mouth is moving and mile an hour, but his words fell upon deaf ears. This bastard didn't like him, Ludwig thought to himself with dry amusement, and Ludwig hated him right back. He hated him, he hated his job, he hated the white walled prison.
Such venomous thoughts in aggravating situations such as these are not odd, however, what Ludwig did next was extremely peculiar for a normally sensible and reserved man.
He stood, ran a hand through his hair as he side-eyed his momently quiet boss, and said something he had longed to say for years,
"I quit."
His boss bawked and went off into a spiel about knee-jerk reactions and proper procedures and a bunch of other shit Ludwig really didn't give a fuck about. In that moment, as he brushed past his still rambling senior with a wave of his hand and a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, he was invincible, he was free and he could do anything. He would blame Feliciano's influence entirely later on.
"You changed your mind!" Feliciano grinned as he opened the hotel door for Ludwig, still looking as though he had just rolled out of bed.
"Something like that," Ludwig replied, as he was tugged back into the room by the sleeve of his shirt.
He was swiftly relieved of the majority of his clothes thanks to Feliciano's enthusiastic hands and, as his friend had originally suggested, they ordered a late breakfast from room service while Ludwig reiterated what had occurred at his workplace.
"Wow, Ludwig, that couldn't have been easy for you," Feliciano said, nibbling around the crust of a piece of toast that had been covered in chocolate spread.
"It was at the time, though I have no doubt I'll be kicking myself over it later." Ludwig replied, setting down an empty mug on the bedside table. "I don't know what I'll do now, though."
Feliciano chewed on his crust thoughtfully, trialling the slim fingers of his free hand over Ludwig's chest. "You have no job, no family, nothing tying you down," he finally said, sounding determined, "You could come with me. Together, we could go anywhere, do amazing things." He cracked Ludwig another winning smile. "All you have to do is be brave and go for it."
It was both a ludicrous and highly tempting offer. Ludwig frowned and looked away, towards the large television on the opposite wall. Come to think of it, the whole suite Feliciano had seemed rather luxurious, especially by the hotel's standards. From how Feliciano had spoke, he had assumed he was a traveller, perhaps a student taking a year out of education, but surely very few students could afford to stay in a place of such calibre for as long as Feliciano had.
He looked back at the other man, and realized his new friend was still practically a stranger to him.
"Feliciano," he said firmly, determined to get answers, "who are you, really?"
Feliciano blinked, looking genuinely confused by the query. "I'm afraid I don't..."
"What do you do? Where do you come from? How old are you, even? I know nothing about you."
"I'm twenty-five years old- and yes, I know I don't look it-, I'm originally from a small village in Italy, but now I'm just a citizen of the world. As for what I do,"
Feliciano sat up into the where the morning light fell, basking his skin in a warm glow. He seemed to hold back for a moment, before looking to Ludwig with wide, shining eyes.
"I'm a thief."
Ludwig choked on a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, "What?"
"I'm a thief!" Feliciano repeated cheerfully, flopping down back over Ludwig. "Oh, not just a... put 'em up, empty the register sort of thief; I'm more," a pause, followed by a laugh, "sophisticated, than that."
Ludwig wasn't sure if he was more astounded by the revelation of Feliciano's occupation, or the casual, even cheerful way he went on to tell Ludwig about it whilst wriggling against him naked. Apparently he was rather infamous in the right circles, mostly working under the hire of rich men out to dent their rival's pride and finances. Occasionally he took spoils for himself, but apparently working on commission was easier on his conscience. Ludwig slumped against the headboard, trying to process everything while Feliciano nudged at his chin with the top of his head.
"I may be a criminal, but don't hurt people," he said quietly, after a moment. "Jewels, art, statues- they're material, you can always buy more. People can't be replaced. I know the value of life, Ludwig, that's why I want to live mine being as free and happy as possible. You weren't happy before, but I made you happy by showing you new things, didn't I? Imagine that, me and Ludwig making new discoveries every day of our lives, learning about places and people and each other. Imagine how happy we could be," Feliciano looked at Ludwig through thick lashes, "if Ludwig came away with me."
Ludwig could only stare in wonder at Feliciano before him for a few long moments. His hand stroked through the other man's hair to the back of his head, guiding him gently forward until their foreheads touched and they shared breath.
"How can I possibly say no to that."
And whatever worries that would later come by did not matter in that moment, as Feliciano kissed him and pushed him back down on to the pillows, because right then, Ludwig finally felt alive.
A/N: Something I've had sitting around for a while that needed editing. I'm slowly falling back into my writing groove, and it's rather wonderful, because I have a lot of things I'd like to continue or finish.
I picked out a few of the places Feliciano and Ludwig went on trips to from the city I'm from. It actually does have a secret vodka bar, and though I've yet to go I've only heard good things about it. It's basically used as a quiet place for students to get pre-drinks before heading out to clubs, and frequented by friendly Polish people. It's menu, apparently, is very impressive.
I will probably add more to this, although it will probably be more in the format of a collection of short stories set in this universe than just one piece.