It wasn't supposed to be like this. Yet another empty bottle hit the ground with a loud crash, spinning out to fall with the rest. How many had he had so far? He wasn't sure. Gilbert found himself unable to think, his mind hazing, crimson eyes cloudy. Too many, there was no doubt about that. He didn't care. The crimson eyed man wasn't sure he'd ever be able to bring himself to care again.
"Are you trying to drink yourself to death?" Gilbert paused, his shoulders relaxing and a smile tugging at his lips. The voice was amused, and he could almost see the smile on those lips, those perfect, perfect lips. Turning his head, Gilbert couldn't help but sheepishly grin up at the man, crimson catching cerulean and holding on.
"I might be." He retorted, shakily getting to his feet and moving towards the source of the voice. Strong arms wrapped around him, and Gilbert melt into them without hesitation. His precious baby brother. His lover of- oh, it must be near ten years now! Some days it felt like it had been an eternity. "Ludwig..." He murmured, burying his face into the others chest, pouting as the other chuckled quietly. If he were thinking straight, he would have noted that the others skin was cold, almost like ice. It was odd- but Gilbert was far from thinking straight.
"You act as though I've been gone forever, big brother. Didn't I promise to never leave you?" Ludwig murmured softly, burying his face in the elder's silver locks. His hands were protective as he cradled the other close, and Gilbert could almost swear he felt Ludwig hold him just that extra bit tighter. "Come on, Hasi…" The blonde breathed softly into his ear. "You're so drunk you can hardly stand. You know, I have warned you about this. Let's get you to bed, ok? If you don't fight me on that, I'll even carry you."
Gilbert had opened his mouth to protest- but it promptly closed at the offer. How long had it been since he'd been carried by the younger? In some ways, Gilbert truly acted like he was the little brother, even as he wrapped his arms around the tall man's neck, a grin on his lips. "Then to bed it is! Away, chauffeur!" He teased, ignoring Ludwig's roll of the eyes as the younger scooped him up, cradling him bridal style to his chest as he carried him. Gilbert buried his face in his lovers neck, quietly breathing in the scent that was purely Ludwig, a relieved shudder falling from his lips. "Stay with me tonight." He pleaded. "I'm tired of the bad dreams. They scare me, Luddi. You always die in them, and it scares me. I want… to make sure you're really here…"
There was a pause, a fleeting look of- guilt? Anxiety, maybe?- crossing the blonde face, before he gave a nod. "Of course, Gilbert. I'll keep you safe, I promise." He lay the elder on the bed gently, tucking him in before getting in himself, those arms wrapping back around the elder. Gilbert couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine as icy fingers began to stroke soothingly up and down his spine, cool kisses peppered to first his cheeks, then his eyelids, across the albinos firm jaw, before finally capturing his own.
There was something different about the kiss. It set off a whole new feeling of unease within the elder, but he tried desperately to push those thoughts away. After all, this was his precious baby brother, and oh, he was breathing. That was all Gilbert needed to feel safe and happy. His arms slid around the others neck, even as he was pulled closer, his own lips matching the others. The kiss was slow, deep and loving, and Gilbert found himself savouring every second of it, memorizing the feel of the others skin against his own. His fingers brushed idly through the soft strands of hair at the nape of Ludwigs neck, curling and stroking in the silky tresses even as the other broke away from him, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead.
"Big brother…" Ludwig murmured quietly, once more nuzzling into the others hair gently, continuing to idly stroke over his back. "You really shouldn't drink so much. The alcohol will only make your bad dreams worse. I'm here now, ok? I won't let them get you. I will never let anything hurt you." He swore, a determination in his voice that made Gilbert pause for just a moment. Ludwig was talking so strangely- as though something would try to keep them apart, to tear his darling away from him.
Gilbert could still remember the night they'd confessed. Ludwig had been so nervous, so anxious, worry on the seventeen year olds face as he curled up in the bed beside his big brother, tears staining his cheeks. It had broken Gilbert's heart. He'd never been able to stand seeing Ludwig cry, and seeing him so scared to boot made the twenty year old all the more desperate to soothe his fears. It had taken some coaxing, but finally Gilbert had convinced the terrified blonde to tell him what was wrong. Nothing could have prepared him for what he heard, as Ludwig sobbingly confessed to having feelings for him that were far more than brothers ought to.
He'd been expecting Gilbert to yell. To throw him out of his room, to call him filthy, to hate him. But no. Gilbert had simply cradled his face in his hands, stroking away the tears so tenderly that Ludwig's heart had ached. "Oh, my little darling…" Gilbert had whispered, resting their foreheads together. "Please don't cry anymore, you'll break big brother's heart." Ludwig hadn't been a given a chance to reply, before careful, chapped lips were on his, kissing him as though he might break, Gilberts heart pounding in his chest as he kept the other close, caressing his little brothers face lovingly as he kissed him. It was all he could do to show him he loved him. It was all he could do to stop the others fear.
This kiss felt much the same, only reversed. The thought made Gilbert all the more uneasy. Something was wrong. Something was very very wrong.
Ludwig gently coaxed the other back into the soft pillows, cradling him to his chest lovingly, tipping his face up to lock eyes with those gorgeous rubies he so adored. "Stop thinking." He breathed out softly. "Gilbert, you act as though I can't see the gears in that pretty little head of yours turning. Stop thinking." He repeated, and there was something in his own eyes, an almost pleading. "Just… let me hold you, and know that you're safe to sleep. You need it, Hasi, you're so drunk you can hardly keep your eyes open. Go to sleep. I've got you, I swear it."
Gilbert paused. He wanted to protest, to argue that he wanted to stay awake. He wanted to keep looking at Ludwigs face, wanted to continue to reassure himself that his precious brother really was here. Even still, his eyes were growing heavy, until eventually, he drifted to sleep in his brothers arms. His breathing was calm and steady as he snuggled his face closer to the younger man, his fingers clinging in the fabric of his shirt.
He woke up alone.
That was the first thing he noticed upon sitting up in his bed. He could still smell his darling brother, and for a moment, he could almost believe Ludwig would be downstairs, cooking him breakfast. That was when it all came back to him, slamming into him like a train, right alongside the hangover that had him aching to vomit.
Ludwig in the hospital bed, hooked up to needles and machines. His frame far too thin, eyes sallow, skin almost paler than Gilbert himself. He'd still smiled. Whenever Gilbert had stepped into the room, no matter how tired, how sore and sick Ludwig felt, he always offered Gilbert the best smile he could, even if in the end, it was weaker and weaker.
And then the memories of Ludwig in the coffin. Of how Gilbert had sobbed, had clung on to the mahogany and protested that this couldn't be real. That it couldn't be his strong baby brother going into the ground. That he was always the sickly one, it should have been him. How had the cancer chosen Ludwig instead?
Elizaveta had had to hold him back, cradling him to her as one would a child, as Gilbert watched with agony as his world was lowered into the ground. Screams, pleas fell from his lips, even Roderich watching him with sympathy as he tried to struggle away from the Hungarian woman's arms, pleading to be let go, to be allowed to lay with his brother, to go with him. What could he do without the one person who had meant the very world to him?
Pulling his knees to chest, Gilbert began to weep. How had it been a dream? How? It'd been so real. Even now, he could still feel the lingering tingle of his brothers touch on his skin. It couldn't have been a dream! He'd felt the youngers lips against his own, he'd heard his voice! There was no mistaking it. And yet- how could he deny the truth? How could he deny the picture on his bedside table, the last of his brother alive, so sickly and small, yet trying so hard to be strong for Gilbert?
That was when he spotted it, laying on the pillow beside his own- the pillow his brothers head had rested on just last night. The gold glittered and shone, and Gilbert felt his very heart stop, his blood running cold as he saw it. The locket. It was the very locket Gilbert had given Ludwig when they'd become lovers. The one that held both their pictures, and that he'd told the younger to keep close to his heart whenever he was scared. The one the hospital hadn't let him wear when he was going through treatment. The one Gilbert himself had pinned on the younger in his coffin at the wake. Beside it lay a note, and it was all Gilbert could do not to scream as he picked it up. There, in his brothers neat handwriting, was eight simple words.
"I love you so much. I'm sorry."