Author's Notes:

This one is sort of old, but not too much- I think I wrote it in mid-to-late October. Comments and reviews are always appreciated.

* * *

Gilbert's crying doesn't sound very different from Gilbert's laughing. He does both with roughly the same volume and at roughly the same ungodly hour of night that causes Ludwig to lose precious hours of sleep. However, if Ludwig listens closely, he can differentiate the two. Gilbert's crying has longer sounds and breaks for an obnoxiously loud snort or sniffle. Those longer noises make it sound almost like screaming, making it even more disturbing when Ludwig actually tunes into the sound. When he does, he has two options: he can investigate the noise and tell Gilbert to pipe down if he's laughing or comfort him if he's crying, or he can just assume that Gilbert's just being Gilbert and try to fall back to sleep. On the occasions that he has gone to check on his brother, he has almost always has found that his brother is completely fine and just laughing to himself about… well, who knows what, really. Naturally, the fact that there never seemed to be anything wrong was a good enough reason not to check on Gilbert whenever the slightest odd noise could be heard from his room.

However, one thing sets this episode apart from the others: never before has Gilbert called his brother's name. Hearing "WEST!" echo down the hallway after the usual ambiguous set of noises is enough to set off all of Ludwig's alarms at once. He is up, out of bed, and standing in front of his brother's bedroom door when he considers that he may be wasting his time. Against his better judgment, he opens the door and walks in anyway.

It is easy to imagine Ludwig's surprise when, for a change, there is in fact something quite wrong with Gilbert. When he hears the door open, he immediately picks his head up from the desk he's slumped over, looks at his little brother, and smiles his crooked smile, but the tears are running down his face and he's gritting his teeth. "Oh, hey, you came in," he rasps in a voice hoarse from crying. "What's up?" he says, trying to sound normal and failing miserably.

"You called me, so I came," Ludwig says, somewhat worriedly looking his brother over. "What's wrong?"

Gilbert laughs, but it sounds much more like a poorly disguised sob. "Oh, nothing. I just wanted to see how you were doing." He appears to be straining to keep his smile up.

Ludwig is about to leave and grumble about getting worked up over nothing, but quickly changes his mind. "I doubt that, Gilbert. What's going on with you?"

"What are you talking about? It's nothing! I'm perfectly fine!" Gilbert is resisting; he is not one to ever admit a weakness. As far as he is concerned, when he says he is fine, everyone should believe it.

His brother, of course, knows better than to let Gilbert keep up his act. "Not when you look like that, you aren't. Don't think I can't see or hear that you've been crying."

Gilbert sighs loudly, letting go at last. "I'm just a little bummed, West."

Ludwig goes closer to his brother. Perhaps the closeness will draw more information out of him. "Over what? That's not like you at all."

The ailing man speaks flatly, trying to avoid eye contact with the other one. "I've just been thinking about some things, and they made me kinda sad."

"Alright, then," Ludwig says, trying to keep his tone gentle or at least neutral. "Let's talk about it." He pulls up a chair and looks at his brother expectantly. In the back of his mind, something nags at him, tells him he looks and sounds silly, but he reminds himself that what he's doing now is not something that would make his brother think he's crazy. "That probably sounds odd coming from me, but it's better than letting you just pine away in your room. I don't like it when you do this to yourself."

Gilbert's eyebrows twitch in a way that indicates surprise. He did not expect Ludwig to care that much. "Oh, really?" He is clearly not comfortable with divulging his secrets; he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Ludwig continues to wait patiently, his eyes never leaving Gilbert's face. Seeing that he is not about to get out of this situation, he eventually confesses, having decided that it couldn't possibly harm him. "Y'know, I was just thinking about old times. Awesome times. More awesome times, I mean. Not like this time isn't awesome." He is lying as he says that last sentence. He thinks quite the opposite; he considers this time period to be the closest thing to a nadir that he has ever experienced. Ludwig gives him a look that lets him know that he has caught the lie, but says nothing as Gilbert continues. "I haven't been in a decent fight for way too long. I haven't done anything useful at all for a while, you know? I just sit around and pace the cage." His casual speech and his crooked smile fail to hide how he shakes on the inside.

"That's not true," Ludwig counters. "You've come to quite a few of the meetings and contributed."

"So? It's not like I've done much else," Gilbert replies with a frustrated growl. "The thing is, I'm bored out of my skull and I'm unhappy. That's it."

"I'm sorry," Ludwig says, and he means it. He is sorry not just for his brother's depressive spell but for not being entirely sure how to cure it. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Gilbert thinks for a moment, rummaging around in his head for an answer. Eventually, he finds something, although it doesn't quite fit the question asked. "I was also thinking about how life was like when you were a kid. You know, how I always took care of you, made sure you grew up strong, tried to make it all better when you were sick? I miss those times, West. I miss when you were my little brother."

"What are you talking about, Gilbert? I am still your little brother!" There is a hint of pain in Ludwig's voice. He does not know what he has done to make Gilbert think that he is no longer his little brother, but he knows that he must put that doubt to rest immediately. He suddenly gets up and holds his brother close, saying, " Times have changed, brother. I can't be the same little brother that I was to you for all those years... but don't you ever get the impression that I'm no longer your little brother because things are different."

Gilbert does not resist his brother's embrace. His trembling arms slowly return the gesture. His next words come out slow and shaky. "West, do you... do you still love me? I-I know that's a really stupid question, but I wanna know."

"Yes, Gilbert," Ludwig replies. Suddenly, he feels warm wetness on his shoulder and reflexively pulls away. Gilbert is crying and trying to cover it with that twisted grin again.

"No, West, I'm crying because I'm happy," he says, answering an unasked question. "I... I love you too, little brother. It's why I miss the old times, when we were the best together." He pauses, sniffles, dries his eyes with his sleeve, and keeps going. "You asked what you can do for me... the worst thing is that I have no idea. Can I have some time to think about it? I feel… kinda tired."

"Are you ready to sleep? I'm not leaving you until I'm sure that you're not going to wake up worried again."

"Yeah. I think I can sleep now. Thanks, West. Thanks a lot," Gilbert says, slowly picking himself up from the chair and making his way toward his bed, like a piece of creaky machinery unused for too long. The smile on his face is now relaxed, genuine, not strained and crooked like before. "G'night."

Ludwig makes his way towards the door. "Goodnight, brother." As he leaves, he makes some plans in his mind for the next morning.

There are no further interruptions that night.

* * *

Gilbert wakes up to the sounds of plates clinking and a sweet, heavenly smell. He wants to stay in bed for just a few minutes longer, but the clinking sound drives him mad. He pulls himself out of bed and makes his way to the kitchen, where Ludwig says "Good morning" without saying anything at all.

Just as Gilbert walks in, Ludwig sets down a plate with a large stack of pancakes that are just about drowned in maple syrup at his brother's place at the table. "There's more if you're still hungry, but I think that should be enough," he says in a somewhat grumpy-sounding tone. Gilbert finds himself wondering just how early his little brother got up to make the pancakes like this.

The miscellaneous wonderings quickly retreat as Gilbert sits down and digs into his pancakes. He savors the sweet, mapley heaven to the point that he is oblivious to the world for a good few minutes. Not even the one who made the breakfast has the nerve to interrupt him when he just looks so happy. No, Ludwig doesn't need to interrupt his brother at all. He interrupts himself.

Suddenly setting his fork and knife down, he looks at Ludwig with the same depressed eyes from last night. "You've done a lot for me recently, West. What have I done for you in return? It doesn't feel right for me to just sit there and let you take care of me like I'm a crippled old man or something. Besides, I used to take care of you all the time, and-"

Now he does need to interrupt his brother, and does so with no hesitation. "Stop, Gilbert. Like I said last night, times have changed. It's alright for your little brother to take care of you. It's my turn, now. Consider it a returned favor if you have to."

Gilbert pauses and thinks for a moment, and then suddenly bursts out laughing. Ordinarily, Ludwig would have every reason to be annoyed, but the sound is actually quite a relief, given the recent depressive spells. "You're a good kid, West. You learned how to take care of people pretty well," he says, following up with another pause and a flicker of solemnity. "You know how you asked me if there was anything you could do for me? It… it sounds kinda silly, but… can you keep loving me? Can I stay your brother, and can you stay mine?" The words clearly are not easy for him to say.

The answer comes with no hesitation. "Of course, brother."