The sky was dark and it wasn't even night. Ludwig knew this meant bad weather. But if that was the case then why was it today of all days? Ludwig stared at the truck, waiting patiently for him to get on.
He heard a gentle sniff. "Ludwig, do you have to go now?"
Ludwig looked at his love, possibly for the last time. He saw the fear and sadness in Feliciano's eyes which were understandable feelings for him. Having to leave his home to go to war was something nobody wanted to do. But he had to go. Ludwig wanted to drop his duffel bag right now and take his love inside the house and stay instead of leaving. But it was not a simple idea. Nothing was today.
"Es tut mir leid," he apologized sadly. "I have to go. I have no choice in the matter."
Ludwig saw his love attempting to hold back pained tears. God he wanted him not to. He reached his right gloved hand, wiping the coming tears off Feliciano's beautiful brown eyes and gave a strained smile. It was not because he forced himself, he wanted Feliciano to smile in return. He wanted him not to cry like this. Especially if this was his last time seeing him again. He was way too beautiful to cry.
"I promise I'll come back, Feli," he said, doing his best to sound hopeful.
Feliciano sniffed. "You promise?"
Ludwig knew it was a long shot, but he said it anyway. "I promise."
Feliciano finally smiled, wiping the left eye himself. Ludwig took his hand off his face and turned away to go into the military van where he saw other soldiers geared up in darkish military attire. Was this the point of his life would end? Unsure of himself, he had to fight for his country. At least he would fight to protect their home. Leaving Feliciano turned his stomach wrenchingly into a bad-performed somersault. However, Feliciano was respectful of his decision.
Before Ludwig knew it Feliciano ran forward and hugged him from behind. He wanted to cry right there. He did not care what anyone in the neighborhood thought of him, he did not care if the men in the van stared in disappointment, he did not care if it was considered 'disgraceful' because of his lover's a male; he was going to leave the one person he loved the most, and it could be the last time. Ludwig spun around hastily and took Feliciano into a full body hug. They kept saying 'I love you' in their respected languages while kissing sloppy kisses. Yet they loved each other. Both knew one couldn't survive without the other.
Departure was the worst. Ludwig got on board the huge truck; it started to gear up and moved away. He had a painful view of Feliciano crying, going back to their house alone. Ludwig discovered a greater sadness from that moment on. He realized leaving the one you love to defend your country was the most difficult thing to do.
Days had passed so quickly for Feliciano. It was rather scary and time-consuming and Feliciano felt the atmosphere around his neighborhood growing unhappy. He remembered the grey-colored morning like it was yesterday. Thankfully, Lovino and Antonio were there to support him. Even though Lovino didn't change his opinon on Ludwig, Feliciano noticed how, occasionally, he tried not speaking ill-mannerly of him. But there were times Lovino forgot himself and slipped.
"In my opinion," Lovino said, watching TV with the two of them, "I think the place smells less German."
Feliciano turned shockingly to his brother with a gasp. "That's mean, big brother!"
He crossed his arms, unfazed. Antonio gave him an earful about what he said and Feliciano carried on watching the news. So far, the war where Ludwig was in was actually winning! He felt relieved Ludwig was safe. The letters he sent to him back and forth were the signs of his well-being.
Feliciano kept the letters away from Lovino because he would just complain about Ludwig some more. When no one was in his room, he would take a letter or two out and read through each one like a precious book. No matter what, they smelt like Ludwig's scent.
The next day came like a flash, and a new letter was waiting to be read in the mailbox.
Ludwig couldn't figure out what to say. I'm mean, it's been almost a month and he couldn't write what he wanted to say on his mind. Letters were given an okay for everybody but they must be inspected by the people in the mail room. It was a procedure so important facts from their side wouldn't be sent off to the enemies.
"Are you writing to your wife?" asked a man who Ludwig was unfamiliar with.
"No," he said flatly.
The man apparently didn't pay heed on Ludwig's flat answer because he took it upon himself to take a seat on the bench. Ludwig kept looking at his wrinkled writing paper; scribbled lettering and crossed out introductions were visible to the point of covering the whole sheet. It was so difficult to write what he truly wanted to say: war was horrible, he missed Feliciano so much, he wanted to leave this base camp and come back no matter what anyone would say. They sounded so clear in his mind, yet he couldn't put them to words on a simple piece of paper.
Ludwig finally noticed the stranger eyeing his letter. Why were all the soldiers in this base so nosy?
The stranger said suddenly in an American accent, "Man, I can't read your shitty writing," he commented bluntly.
"Does it look like I not know what it looks like?"
"Are ya having hard time writing?" The stranger asked, ignoring Ludwig's question.
Ludwig grunted dismissively as a response. He didn't want to answer with his words since he felt doing so would be wasted with an idiot.
"Why don't you write how you feel right now?" the sturdy man suggested. "When I write to my boyfriend I tell him how much my heart aches. I tell him I want to see him again and make out with him when I come back. You know, romantic and stuff." With that, the young man got up and left just like that.
Write how he felt? First—he felt interrogated. Second— he was imposed by writing romantic since was not the best at it in writing, only physically. Third—he felt lonely. Those were the start of what Ludwig wrote before his first greeting. Before writing any further, he realized that that solider said 'boyfriend' like it was nothing. Did that mean he had a lover who was the same gender? He looked at the man who was talking to some other men, and he wondered what was going on in his mind.
Feliciano got to the mailbox before Lovino woke up. He couldn't contain his obvious glee from the last letter saying, and quote, 'It might be a short war. Maybe I'll be able to go home sooner than later' unquote. The red flag was down, indicating mail had just arrived. His smile widened. Cheeks were red like tomatoes. He wondered what he wrote today.
Believe it or not, Feliciano had twenty letters sent to him from the past two months. He sent off the same amount with every bit of love he wrote on the white piece of paper. Despite their long term segregation he had no trouble believing in Ludwig to come home safe and sound. He prayed every night for his safe journey through these hard times and, to himself, he wondered idly if Ludwig ever prayed for him to be safe?
Feliciano quietly went back inside the house, careful not to disturb his brother's slumber. However he stumbled upon their carpet and nearly shrieked when tripping face down on the floor. It hurt a lot but he was able to cover his mouth. Quickly enough, he dashed up the staircase and ran to his room, locking the door.
Feliciano wondered why he always ran away from his brother. Oh, wait, Feliciano thought acutely, I remember now... My big brother still dislikes him. I wonder why? Ludwig is so sweet and kind and loving and gentle...
Feliciano didn't need a dictionary on words like 'kind' or 'nice'. He had the definition of Ludwig, and he happened to be in another country right now. But he knew optimistically that Ludwig would return soon. He opened the letter excitedly and smelt the usual scent of Ludwig.
The pitching sounds of gunfire were agonizing. The sounds of men screaming in agony were unbearably torturous. And the worst part of all was that Ludwig couldn't stop the terrible pain inside as he hid under the defense wall. However, the area was being breached and their chances of winning were slim. Like a piece of paper being torn slowly and painfully. Deep down Ludwig was afraid. He was.
People around him kept dying—some he never knew and some that tried to get close to him. The ones that influenced him either left into battle or ran away somehow. How can a man run away in battle? They lived longer, and the other soldiers died in their place. But if they fought, maybe they would have had better chances of living longer.
Ludwig was running down the abandoned city that once was roaming with life and energy and happiness and for God's sake, he wanted it to remain that way. Life can be so cold. It can be a bitch and everyone complained all the time. Yet nobody could stop this unless they fight, and Ludwig although experienced with the military and fighting, he was getting tired of all this bloodshed and wasted lives squabbling everywhere.
Was it wrong that during the battle he wanted to just stop? Was it wrong that he wanted to find another way to end the ongoing war peacefully? And was it wrong that as he raced off to battle, fighting whoever was out there in the dust blizzard, he was thinking of his love Feliciano? Ludwig had to fight, it was the only way he could protect his lover from all the brutality of the world and fighting against the enemy in this war meant the safety of everyone he knew or didn't know, even his Feliciano. Ludwig got out of his hiding spot and marched away to fight. For Feliciano.
Feliciano was reading the newspaper and received a grim notice on the front page. The war Ludwig was fighting against was winning, and the end that Feliciano was hoping for Ludwig to come home was going to be a while. As Feliciano tried to think of something positive to write in his later letters he heard the doorbell ringing downstairs. Making his way down the stairs and to the front door, he had a lump on his throat which didn't want to be swallowed down. It felt painful but he found a tad of courage to open the door.
In front of him, instead of Ludwig who'd come back with minor injuries and a vague smile on his face, it was a solider with a dark expression.
"Mr. Vargas?" said the man, sounding tough yet really it was just an act. "I have some grave news."
Fifty years, Feliciano thought, of writing all these unopened letters.
On Ludwig Beilschmidt's grave there was a box. In that box were unopened letters sent by Feliciano who, still to this day, wrote countless of unread letters to his lost loved one. Every year he came back to the graveyard, passing the various gravestones of lost souls and went up to the one by the lake. It was their usual hiding place whenever they had a date, Feliciano remembered the glorious times they shared their moments by the lake where stars shone brightly and the waters ran down the path softly without fear.
Feliciano gave a weak smile and tried to fight back tears as he opened the small box and pushed down another letter. He knew no matter what they would be unanswered. Maybe...Ludwig could read them, in spirit, right beside Feliciano as he planned on writing another letter.