This story is not mine! It was originally written by Christ on a cracker in German. I have her permission to translate the story and post it here because she has no account on this site. If you want to talk to her about the fic, her username on Tumblr is topftopf, but you can also post reviews here. She understands English perfectly. The cover image is by the amazing iraya.

Please note that the story includes Prussia/Hungary, Netherlands/Prussia and Romano/Belgium as minor side pairings before the main characters get together. There are also mentions of suicide in one character's past towards the end.

LIFE UNDER THE SUN

Chapter 1

Forty minutes.

Gilbert's temple was starting to hurt, but he kept pressing it against the car window, ignoring the distant words of his brother and his boyfriend on the front seat and stared dumbly outside.

It was forty minutes since he had last seen a house. Ever since then, wilderness. Thin tracks of crunching pebble represented the road that slithered among the hills, surrounded by tall grass; brown and green, like everything here. Small trees marred by the wind stood on the fields; every now and then there were crumbled ruins of old places, the remains of a wooden fence taken over by wild grapes and ivy. It was pretty. Maybe. Gilbert couldn't really say. Maybe it would have been pretty in a picture in a travel brochure. As a background in a movie. But like this? An eternity seemed to pass, and the scenery didn't change at all. Tree, field, hill, sun, sun, sun. Clear sky. Only a few shrouds of cloud – pitifully thin – floated in the middle of the sky. Alone and lonely. Like Gilbert.

He already missed the city.

"Hey, Gilbert! Gilbert!"

Torn from his thoughts, he jerked.

"Yeah, Feli?" A fake grin on his face, as usual. He had never been good at showing his real emotions. He was Gilbert Beilschmidt. Always happy, always loud, always self-confident and strong and pleased with himself and the world. A façade that was beginning to crumble now that he was being shoved to the Italian countryside. But nobody noticed the shaky smile. Feliciano was beaming at him, Ludwig's eyes were glued to the road, and Gilbert was grinning like he couldn't be happier.

"We're almost there!" Feliciano informed him, almost jumping up and down on his seat in excitement. "Isn't it wonderful here? I'm so happy that fratello is finally getting company – but don't take him too seriously, he can be really grumpy, but he actually has a really good heart," he blabbered merrily.

Gilbert stared absently at the stubborn curl that stood on Feliciano's head and bobbed up and down in rhythm with his rambling. The words glided past him, like snowflakes in the wind. He didn't care who this Lovino Vargas was. He wasn't Ludwig or Feli or Francis or Antonio. Or Elizabetha. He wasn't his cousin Vash or the cute little Lilli or even that punk Arthur. He was none of the people who claimed to like him, that they only wanted the best for him, but didn't want him. He was just an employer. And Gilbert – Gilbert was just a jack of all trades. Not a brother, not a friend, not a cousin, not a drinking buddy. Not a lover.

"There! It's over there!" Feliciano sang, now glued to the wind shield and louder than Ludwig's tirade about the spots he was leaving there. Gilbert turned his head in disinterest to get the first look at his new home.

There stood an old, crumbling house. In the middle of green, half covered in wild grapes and climbing roses. A brown brick roof and walls that probably used to be white but now carried a yellowish colour. An uneven step led to the porch that housed a few garden chairs that didn't match and a wooden table. Fruit trees were growing around the house. Cherries, olives, pomegranates, lemons, oranges, figs… Gilbert turned his attention back to the house. Everything about it was old and broken. He could see from here that the roof was leaky, a window broken, the colours on the front door and windowsills peeling off. He would have thought the house was abandoned if it hadn't been for the baskets full of fresh fruit that were standing under the trees.

The stones crunched under the wheels as the car stopped at the yard. A second later, Feliciano had opened the door and jumped outside, a wide grin on his face and wagging his arms. Ludwig turned to Gilbert while Feliciano called for his brother. His face was serious, as always, a little concerned, as always, a little apologetic. Not as always.

"Are you sure you'll make it?" he asked.

Gilbert waved him away and let out a cackle.

"It's cute that you're always so worried about me, but I'm the older brother here, remember? Besides, I can make it through anything! I should be asking you if you'll make it completely without my fantastic presence in your house. Feliciano is cute, sure, but not much of a beer drinker."

Ludwig let out a loud breath, as if it was a tiresome task. Half of a repressed sigh. Then he nodded briefly and got out of the car as well. Gilbert stayed behind alone. He didn't want to get out. That would have been a definite arrival. No return. Abandoned in the Italian countryside where he didn't know anyone, miles away from the nearest city. What the hell – miles away from the closest village. Until today he hadn't known there were people who lived like that. Voluntarily.

"Are you coming?" came Ludwig's voice through the half-opened window. Gilbert jerked. He couldn't show any weaknesses. Not after the months during which he had given Feli and Ludwig his complete support regarding their life together, even when it meant that he had to find his own apartment and his own job. It was pathetic enough that the only apartment and only job he could find was a half-crumbled house in southern Italy and that his new employer was Feliciano's brother.

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

Holding back a sigh, he opened the door and stepped out as well. Ludwig was waiting for him at the stairs with his suitcase in hand. Somewhere in the background, Feliciano was still tirelessly calling out for his brother. Gilbert closed the car door behind him and followed Ludwig to the porch where they remained standing and looked around in silence. Gilbert couldn't get rid of the feeling that he didn't belong here. He had spent his entire life in the city. Parties, noise, change every day. This here was the complete opposite of that.

"Stop screaming!" called out an angry voice between two orange trees, and Gilbert turned his eyes away from a fat caterpillar that was eating its way through the ivy above the door in order to get a look at his new employer.

There was a rustle between the trees behind which the sound had come from. Then a basket full of oranges broke through the thickness, held by a pair of thin, tanned arms. Gilbert had to hold back a whistle as the rest of the man stumbled out of the scrub.

Lovino Vargas looked… shockingly young. And way too good to keep himself hidden here in the countryside, Gilbert thought. His hair was a little darker than Feliciano's, but otherwise their relation was unmistakeable. He even had the same unruly curl, even if his was sticking out of the forehead. His skin was much more tanned, no wonder when he worked daily in the garden, under the sun and with his chest bare. To sum it up, he looked like the perfect Italian – except for one thing. The look on his face was angry and irritated instead of hospitable and friendly. His brows were crunched together so that there was a deep furrow on his forehead. Lovino Vargas was obviously no friendly man.

"Are you the potato eater I have to look after from now on?" he growled at Gilbert as soon as he came to stand before him and had placed his basket down. Gilbert shot a questioning glance at his brother, but he only pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to stop Feliciano from running over his brother.

"Uh, my name's Gilbert, not potato eater. And I'm going to work here."

This snobbish asshole! Gilbert wasn't going to stand for this. After all, he wasn't exactly happy about being abandoned here. But Lovino Vargas only let out a snide "Che!", took his basket and went past him into the house. Gilbert exchanged a helpless look with Ludwig before following the Italian. Feliciano rambled something about how Lovino didn't mean it like that, but Gilbert wasn't listening. He was enjoying the coolness of the inside of the house on his skin. The strong sun was new to him, and Gilbert's pale skin didn't go very well with it.

"Your room is the third door to the left," called Lovino out over his shoulder as he stepped into the kitchen through a doorless entrance and placed the basket on the table. "Do whatever you want with it. In general, do whatever you want, just don't bother me while I work." With that, he was gone from sight, and Gilbert was left standing next to his brother, pouting arrogantly and feeling completely lost.

"So… Unfortunately we have to go if we don't want to drive on these dangerous roads in the dark," Ludwig said one hour later. He and Feliciano had helped Gilbert to unpack his suitcase and to put everything in the ancient wooden cabinet that stood in his room. Lovino hadn't shown himself even once. He wasn't in the kitchen anymore either – it appeared he had once again disappeared into his garden. Gilbert had no problems with that. The less he had to see of this crotchety snob, the better.

"Are you sure you'll make it?"

"I already told you not to worry!" Gilbert repeated with a mechanical voice. Thankfully the awkward moment was interrupted when Feliciano jumped on him to hug him. His blabbered goodbyes filled the room. Ludwig placed a hand on Gilbert's shoulder to squeeze it encouragingly. The brothers shared the inability to show emotion, even if it was in completely different ways.

And before Gilbert had even blinked – or at least it seemed that way – he was standing alone in his room.

With a loud sigh, he lay back on his bed. He had no idea what to do now. Had he been in town, he would have called Francis or Antonio or Arthur and they would have gone off together to cause a ruckus in the clubs. Maybe he would have called Elizabetha and flirted with her until it became too stupid for her. And if nobody had time for him, he would drive to Roderich's place to annoy him with pranks. But who could he play a prank on in here?

His laptop was on the small table by the bed, and he grabbed it out of habit. Maybe he'd just update his blog and then surf online for the rest of the evening. It was a good way to kill some time.

Three minutes later, he snapped the lid of his laptop angrily shut. He hadn't found a single WiFi signal. Sure, it was obvious there was no Internet here. What had he been expecting? When fate wanted to send him to hell, it apparently took the matter seriously. He looked around in the room. Cabinet, bed, nightstand, desk, that's it. No TV. Not even a book. He had nothing to kill time with. He would have to spend the rest of his life here, playing Minesweeper on his laptop. Brilliant!

Full of frustration and anger at everything and everyone, he curled up on his bed and closed his eyes. Maybe he'd just go to sleep and never wake up. The world would see what they could do without him. Because no matter what, he was convinced that he was just as great as he always claimed he was. He just coped with the ignorance of others a lot worse than he pretended to. After all, he had raised his little brother all alone, even though he had almost been a child himself. Otherwise, maybe he would have gone to university as well, would have studied and got a cool job later. Ludwig was the only one who understood that. He knew that he owed Gilbert. That he had to let him live with him and had to take care of him, just like how Gilbert had done with him. But Gilbert hadn't factored in that his little brother would fall in love. And after all those years, he had also deserved his wonderful life with his perfect Italian lover, with whom he could share a home. Who was Gilbert to stand in the way? No – Gilbert was a good big brother who knew when his time was up. He would do everything for Ludwig. He would move to the Italian countryside where there was no Internet and no fun and no friends, just a grouchy young man and a heap of fruit trees. He would do anything for Ludwig. But that didn't mean he couldn't curl up on the bed and sulk about it.

After a while there was a knock on the door. Nobody opened it when Gilbert grumbled a tired "Yes?" and tore himself up from the bed, muttering to himself – his hair was standing up on one side – and went to open the door.

There was only a plate with cannelloni, but his expression brightened. He hadn't noticed how hungry he was. And after the cold greeting, he hadn't been expecting that Lovino would actually cook for him. It seemed he wasn't entirely immune to Italian hospitality after all.

Since he didn't want to eat trapped inside his room as if he were a teenager who was grounded, he took the plate and went out to the porch. The sun was in the process of sinking below the horizon, which had made the temperature outside pleasant. Lovino was sitting in an ancient garden chair and balancing a plate in his lap. Gilbert decided to sit down by his side in silence even though the second chair looked like it would give his butt splinters.

"Whoa!" Gilbert said after taking the first bite – even though he had been planning to say nothing. "You're as funny as a dead clown, but you know how to cook."

Lovino snorted. He cleared his throat. He snorted again. "Don't try to flatter me, potato eater! I only agreed to take you here because my brother and Antonio talked me into it. Anything is better than to oppose those two, especially if they've joined forces."

Gilbert let out a neutral sound and ate his cannelloni without trying to get into a fight. It would have been stupid. The dinner had improved his mood a little, and he wasn't going to let it plummet down again just because of this grouchy Italian.

"Don't you have Internet here?" he asked after a while. As feared, Lovino shook his head.

"Absolutely not. That devil's work is a total waste of time and keeps you away from life."

Life? Gilbert almost swallowed his fork. Lovino was describing this deserted, isolated vegetation as life? That was ridiculous! The city was life! There was no night and no loneliness. Light, music, movement, adventures, sex, fun. What was there here? You couldn't have a party with a few fruit trees.

"All that I need is peace," said Lovino after Gilbert had presented his argument. "And you can't find it in a city."

For a few minutes, they kept eating in silence. Gilbert observed the wild grapes that slithered along the wall and swayed slightly in the wind. It was true – it was wonderful here. The air, the clear sky, the greenery. But what was so great about it when you couldn't share it with anyone?

"Are you lonely?" he asked as he scratched his fork on the empty place with hopes of catching the last drops of tomato sauce.

"Lonely?" Lovino snorted, placed his plate on the floor and looked at Gilbert as if he had asked a particularly ridiculous question. "I never feel lonelier than when I'm surrounded by people. Everyone has something better to do than worry about me. Every relationship between people only scratches at the surface. Sex without feelings is the norm. Out here… At least I can't be ignored here."

"You can't be noticed here either," Gilbert argued.

"I see myself in a much clearer light. At least I can hear my own thoughts."

Gilbert leaned back on his chair, deep in thought. This way of thinking was completely unfamiliar to him. But he could understand Lovino's argument – he would have had to be blind not to understand it since he was in the same situation. He knew so many people, but in the end nobody had offered to take him in. And now he was here, alone, out of the way.

"What about you?" Lovino asked. His expression had relaxed in the course of the conversation and now it was clearly visible how handsome he was. "Are you lonely?"

Gilbert actually wanted to say no, but something in the sincere, brown eyes pulled the words out of his mouth like magic.

"Until lately I would have totally said no," he said and felt the rise of the unfamiliar feeling that always made itself known when he was talking about something he would have rather kept to himself. Or when he admitted something about himself. "I've always been loud, have always imposed on others, have annoyed everyone with my pranks, only to make myself noticeable. Doesn't seem like it worked." He let out a hoarse laugh.

"Hm…" At least Lovino's eyes weren't filled with pity or regret. He pulled himself up from his chair, gathered the empty plates and turned around to go to the kitchen. "Welcome to my world," he said before stepping through the door. Gilbert wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean. Should he take it so that Lovino understood him, or maybe he should take it literally? But one thing was absolutely clear; Lovino and he were on their way to becoming friends.

It wasn't often that he spilled out his soul on the very first day of getting to know someone. And he was very sure that it wasn't often that Lovino Vargas smiled at someone on the first day of meeting him.

He had tried so hard to hide it. But Gilbert had nevertheless caught a glimpse of the corner of his mouth before Lovino entered the kitchen in order to place the two dirty plates into the sink.