Another story based off of a really long RP I've done, except this was a much longer RP and therefore I'm doing it in multiple chapters. So basically the time in between chapters won't be long at all, and it'll basically be me re-formatting stuff rather than writing. And yes, I know the whole WW2!AU thing a is kind of overdone in Hetalia fanfiction, especially for GerIta, but this is what happened and I like it. So enjoy.
Ludwig was tired… so very tired. His body ached and his head pounded, yet he couldn't give in to the overwhelming urge to sleep. Instead, he lay on his stomach in a deep trench, the sounds of guns faint in the distance. Eventually, his gaze landed on the small man curled up near him, the new soldier.
Lying there in the trench, Feliciano was deciding that he didn't like war. He really didn't like war. It was strange that this was only occurring to him now, as he leaned against the damp edge of the trench and held onto his gun—though not at all professionally or in a way that he would be ready to shoot, because he just needed something to make him feel safe.
After a minute or so of his eyes not being focused on anything, as he just wished to himself that he could go home, he glanced over and noticed the soldier nearest to him looking at him—oh, it was the sergeant. Sergeant Ludwig, he was pretty sure the man's name was. He returned the gaze, but didn't say anything. Partly because he wasn't even sure if he had enough strength left today to speak, partly because he was too nervous to.
Ludwig coughed slightly and turned away, hiding his pink cheeks. This had been, after all, a common occurrence. Three times he had been caught watching him, and to be honest, he didn't know why. It was his policy not to get close to the soldiers; in this war, everyone had been dropping like flies.
As a sergeant, he needed to be strong and level headed. Yet, everything about this particular man was odd. He was awfully scrawny and Italian, the only foreigner here amongst his battalion. He was always spacing out and smiled far too much for his position. As much as it bothered Ludwig, he wanted to talk to him, and he really didn't know why.
Feliciano noticed the sergeant looking seemingly embarrassed. Why? The other times, Feliciano had worried that he'd done something wrong and that Ludwig was angry with him—which would not have been a good thing, since he yelled when he was angry. But that had never happened during a battle before, and he couldn't imagine a reason for it now. Was it because he clearly wasn't taking this all like a man, because it was written so clearly on his face that he was a coward and that he would rather run away than fight? ...He supposed so. Feliciano didn't want Ludwig to be angry with him, though—not only because he was scary, but also for other reasons he couldn't explain. So, at once, he moved slightly to arrange the gun in his arms to a proper position and to shift himself to a practical position, even though he still didn't plan on utilizing it.
Having manned up, the German chanced another peek at Feliciano, noticing his shifting and the seemingly worried look and his face. Somehow it pained him, thinking that his staring was bothering him. Ludwig sighed bitterly and sat up, the trench tall enough to cover most of him standing anyway, and pulled out a small notebook. It was often he drew—not that he was any good at it. However, now seemed good to pass the time, and before he noticed, he began to draw the outline of Feliciano's body….
Hearing the sergeant sigh, Feliciano looked over again. He was surprised to see him looking less stern than usual—especially what one would expect of him while a battle was going on somewhere in the distance-and instead rather calm, and... holding a small notebook. With his gun strapped to his back. So... did that mean he didn't have to stay like this? If Ludwig wasn't being super cautious, then he supposed he really didn't have to.
Still, it was tentatively that he relaxed his arms and let his gun rest on the bottom of the trench next to him. Feliciano looked again to the other man, now noticing that he seemed to be busy with something in his notebook. And before he realized that he was talking out loud and not thinking, he said,
"I didn't know you kept a war journal... There must not have been anything exciting to write in it yet."
Ludwig jumped just as he was drawing Feliciano's face, imagining he was touching him instead. Trying to calm his heart, he quickly held the book to his chest, to hide the picture, and stared wide eyed at the Italian, who frowned confusedly in response. He opened his mouth, once, twice, gaping like a fish for words. What's wrong with me? he thought, and again, he looked at the boy. He was just thinking that his eyes reminded him of smooth brown stones, like the ones at his home, when he realized he was staring into those very eyes and had yet to verbally reply to him.
"E-excuse me?" he stuttered slightly, feeling too small for his build.
As Ludwig spoke, he was suddenly nervous, figuring that he had been rude by asking that. Realizing his mistake, he gasped slightly, his face becoming worried, and tried to straighten his back.
"Oh—I-I'm sorry, Sergeant. I didn't see anything you wrote—not that I was looking, Sir...!" He panicked a little, really not wanting to be scolded out here in a trench while a battle was going on, where it was already pretty scary.
Ludwig cursed inwardly and leaned his head in one hand, unconsciously clutching the notebook to his chest. He hadn't felt so stupid and awkward since he was a teenager, trying to impress women. Nowadays he had no time for relationships, but these feelings were the same. The man shook his head and turned a weary eye on the cowering man.
"I… It's alright, I was just drawing; it is a little boring out here," he said as calmly and non-intimidatingly as he could. He forced on a smile, though it was small, and laughed lightly. If anything, he wanted to lighten the mood and not think about admitting to himself he was attracted to this man.
…Did Ludwig just... smile? And laugh? Feliciano couldn't remember ever seeing or hearing him do those things. He never seemed like a happy man at all, really... And that thought always saddened him. He thought everyone deserved to be happy, and it had even kept him up at nights before, wondering what made Sergeant Beilschmidt happy. It was so odd, yet so comforting, to see this man smile… and to hear him say that sitting in a damp, dirty trench a ways away from the battle was "boring." Feliciano, less worried now, smiled and laughed slightly as well.
"Drawing...?" Oh, so he wasn't keeping a war journal. Huh, even odder. "I didn't know you drew... I do, too, sometimes... But you don't really seem like the sort of person who would draw when they're bored."
His heart beat faster as he heard that melodious, tinkling laughter and watched a warm smile pass over Feliciano's olive colored face. It got to him every time. Ludwig was a bit of a stern man—well, a lot of one, but it saddened him slightly to think that Feliciano didn't think he was capable of emotion. Perhaps it was the many battles he had been in, the blood that had been shed by his own hands, or the cause of fighting for his country that he no longer understood, but he did find it hard to let loose. Sitting up a little straight, he decided he would be different with Feliciano.
"I don't do it a lot, and I'm not very good...," he murmured a little sheepishly. Had he not been drawing Feliciano with so much focus, he was positive that his current sketch would have been quite embarrassing.
It was even more surprising to hear the sergeant sound so uncertain of himself—he always seemed to know exactly what he was doing all the time. But at the same time, it made him glad, as he had a chance to be the stronger, reassuring one, now. Feliciano immediately leaned forward involuntarily, his eyes widening a little, and said,
"Ah—no, don't say that... I'm sure you're very good." He closed his eyes briefly in a warm smile before he continued. "Before I was drafted, I was... well, I was planning on being an artist. In the Art School that I went to, they always told us that 'art doesn't have to be good for it to be good'... If that makes sense. It just depends on how you see it..." Feliciano's voice started to trail off, becoming somewhat quieter as he realized how strange it felt to be saying this all in a trench. But he decided to continue anyway. "And... you're a really focused and strict person, so I'm sure you're a perfectionist when it comes to what you draw, but I'm also sure that it looks a lot better than you think."
Ludwig's cheeks immediately heated, and he searched the clear eyes before him. He wondered if he knew that he sounded so wise. Feliciano had also read him very well; unfortunately, he was sure he was wrong about his art.
"Thank you... Feliciano." It was the first time he had ever spoken the name, but he smiled at how he sounded. He blushed yet again, beginning to feel like some little girl, noticing that they were both leaning towards each other.
Feliciano really liked the way his name sounded in Ludwig's voice, and he didn't know why. But it was deep and warm and felt like a blanket wrapping around him and keeping him away from the chilling night air and the sounds of war in the distance... as though there was no war going on at all. Noticing the other man blush, he wondered what had him so embarrassed. Perhaps he simply didn't talk to other people often...
"You're welcome," he said, smiling with briefly shut eyes again. "If you didn't mind, I'd really like to see your drawings... not that I'm asking you to show me…." As strangely kind as the sergeant was being, he still didn't want to be rude. But he continued smiling, suddenly finding himself unable to stop.
Ludwig forced himself to not immediately decline; instead he hesitantly looked at the one he wanted to hide. At first, he obviously wanted to say no out of embarrassment, but was it so strange? He often saw artists in his home town casually drawing others, so this wasn't that strange, right? Taking a chance, he flipped to the first page and handed it to Feliciano.
"They… really aren't that good," he said, though unable to look at him while saying it.
Pleasantly surprised that Ludwig was actually willing to show him, Feliciano blinked, his eyes slightly widened, and looked down at the small notebook in his hands. The picture on the first page was actually very good… a self-portrait of Ludwig. He smirked to himself, thinking of the first few weeks of Art School and how they'd told him that the best practice was to first draw yourself, which should be the most familiar thing to you. He went on, flipping through the pages and taking a few seconds to look at each one… Some of them were of random scenery, and some of Ludwig's hand, and then… Huh. His smile turning into a curious expression, Feliciano flipped back and forth through the last few pages.
"Some of these…," he started hesitantly, though at the same time rather awed, "are of me." Slowly, he looked up from the notebook to Ludwig's face.
The German fidgeted and looked almost guiltily down at his hands; he had really been hoping that Feliciano would just brush it off. Luck wasn't with him today, it seemed.
"Well, we are always next to each other so I… I mean, there isn't much else for inspiration…." He swallowed and noticed how uncharacteristically small his voice sounded. Honestly, he was a little afraid the other would be irritated by this, or even maybe slightly disgusted.
But Feliciano was too awed by the pictures and even the notion itself to really notice his sergeant's embarrassment or tone of voice that was so unlike him. His smile returned as his eyes moved back down to the notebook, and he continued just looking at the same pictures of him, admiring them. The last one seemed to be of him from just then…. So that's what the other man had been embarrassed about. It made sense, but it also puzzled him that Ludwig, the stern and seemingly emotionless person (most of the time) he was, would get embarrassed over him.
"These are very…," he said almost breathlessly, searching his mind for the word he wanted, "…beautiful. I think you have a lot of talent, Ludwig." Feliciano didn't realize that he'd used his superior's first name until a second or so afterwards, and when he did, his smile faltered slightly—even if the sergeant had said his name, it was still disrespectful, and he wasn't sure if the other man would mind….
Ludwig unclenched his jaw, which he had been clenching out of nervousness, and he let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding. As his heart beat a little bit faster, he found he was more flattered by the fact Feliciano liked them rather than whether they were good or not. "Thank you," he laughed lightly—and felt it reach his eyes for once. "I'm glad you like them; I wasn't too sure if I could draw you, though…." Another laugh and this time he looked up, meeting amber eyes.
The first thing Feliciano felt was relief that Ludwig didn't seem to care about his lack of formality, and the next was another strange wave of happiness at hearing the man laugh. It was richer, deeper this time…. And… the third was slight confusion. His brows knitting together, he gave the other man a curious frown.
"Hm? What do you mean by that…?—that you wouldn't be able to draw me properly, or… that I would get angry?"
He let his laughing trail off at the Italian's question. "Both, really…," he murmured, feelings his palms sweat. He was again beginning to question if it was a normal thing after all and shifted his stance a little, criss-crossing his legs. "I really don't draw very often, so I wasn't sure you would mind," he explained. It amazed Ludwig how easily this boy was withering away his resolve, he hadn't even particularly cared that Feliciano had used his first name. Had it been anyone else, they would have gotten a sharp smack over the head.
"Oh." He supposed that it shouldn't have, considering how much of this side of his sergeant he'd seen in the past twenty minutes or so, but it did surprise him that the other man cared about what he thought. Ludwig was a sergeant—probably one of the toughest sergeants in the entire German army, and he was just a soldier. A relatively new, weak soldier at that.
"Well," he started to say in an almost cheerful manner, "even if I did get angry, you would just tell me super-sternly not to use a disrespectful tone with you, wouldn't you? Heh, I think I would have been too scared to tell you if I minded…." Feliciano laughed again, both at the irony of all that and the bare fact that he really was sitting here, in a trench with the usually-intimidating sergeant, having a casual conversation as though they'd always been friends….
Ludwig didn't really catch the lightheartedness or the irony of it, though. He just looked back down at his hands—was he really that scary? Of course, he thought; after all, he strived to be to keep everything and everyone in order. "Well... I think I would respect your opinion. Am I..." He swallowed and glanced in his direction. "Am I really that intimidating to you?"
He would really respect my opinion...? Wow. That was a first, and not just for Ludwig. People in general usually didn't respect his opinion at all, but instead treated him like a silly child who simply didn't know how the adult world worked. Hardly anyone really saw him as an adult... but Ludwig, for some strange reason, cared. He decided that he liked the sergeant even more and smiled at him.
"Not right now," he told him, a slight laugh in his voice. "But usually you're kind of intimidating to everyone... not that that's a bad thing!" At this point, it was more that Feliciano simply didn't want to hurt Ludwig's feelings than that he was afraid of the other man. "We all just know you're not the kind of man to be messed with—and that's a good thing, isn't it? ...I'd really like to be like you, actually," he added, his voice quieter now as he moved his eyes downward and started picking at a bit of dried mud on his pants. "It's nice, trying to enjoy life all the time like I do... but no one ever takes me seriously."
At Feliciano's words, Ludwig looked up again and turned to face him, and his brow instantly furrowed. "N-no, you should be yourself. I don't think it would be very fun to talk to someone exactly like me." He cleared his throat and absentmindedly watched as the Italian picked away the mud, thinking. Ludwig wasn't good with compliments, so he was unsure of how to state his appreciation. "Ah... Thank you, though." he decided, and let a small smile cross his face. "I think I'd like to be more like you as well."
Looking up at him, Feliciano gave Ludwig a strange look. It seemed as though he was learning that everything he knew about Ludwig was wrong, and all in a rather unlikely place. But the other man's words made him happier than he could ever have expected to be in this war, let alone while sitting at the bottom of a trench. He leaned further against the side of the trench, though he tried to keep any mud off of his face, and he picked up the gun to move it to the other side of him so that it was easier to sit.
"Really? ...Why would you want to be like me? You and other people always tell me I'm not serious enough... And you're already really strong, in a lot of ways. I wish I could be that strong...," he sighed, making a sort of a pouting expression. "But I don't think I ever will be. People even say I look like a girl."
"Because your smile is nice, and you... have a quality of connecting with others that I couldn't have," Ludwig said immediately. It was true, after all. Feliciano was very good with people and had found them places to stay and even extra provisions from charmed civilians. It was that childlike spirit about him that made him hard to truly dislike. As for looking like a girl... Ludwig looked up to study his features. He was short and had a slim build, but if anything made him look feminine, it was his eyes.
Feliciano had beautiful eyes, they were large and despite their dark color they beamed out living light. They were perfect for his slightly rounded cheeks and shaggy hair that framed the orbs. "I think," he debated the best way of putting it, "you look fine to me," his face turned crimson to his ears but he did his best to hold the other's gaze.
Again, warmth started spreading through his chest, and Feliciano wasn't sure why. But he wasn't really thinking about it all that much, as he'd always thought feelings weren't something to think about. They were just supposed to happen.
"Thank you, Ludwig," he said softly and quietly, genuinely very flattered. Sure, women told him he was cute all the time, but simply being told that he "looked fine" by Ludwig was something completely different, and so much better. "Your smile is nice, too... But I suppose it's better that you don't do it often, because then it's more special when you do smile." With that, Feliciano paused, just listening to the fading gunshots and screams for a second—but then he tried to forget them. "...Not many people ever get to see your smile, do they?"
Unaffected by the screams, he sighed and let his eyes slip closed. "No, no they don't." A pained smile replaced his other as he was lost in recollection. Ludwig never had time for smiling; everything he had done from the point of becoming a man was meant to be serious. His school work, and then building himself up to fit the role of the perfect sergeant. He didn't have time to relax or enjoy himself. And yet, everything about Feliciano was calm and relaxed. It filled the air around him and seeped into Ludwig. It was infectious.
He released his clenched muscles and murmured, "I don't often find a reason to." And he could only hope Feliciano would understand what he meant.
Which he did; and it made it him sad again. He could only manage what kind of life the sergeant must have had up until now. Feliciano could only remember one time in his life when it had been difficult for him to be happy, and that had been a year or so after he'd realized that a friend who'd left and promised to come back never would.
Not knowing quite what to say at first, Feliciano unthinkingly reached out slightly and gently grabbed Ludwig's hand, as he might have done while flirting with a woman, then gave it a small, reassuring squeeze. He didn't let go afterward, while he spoke.
"I usually feel like I have to smile, even without reason, or else I'll get too depressed or go mad... But... you've smiled more than I've ever seen you smile since we started talking."
Ludwig jumped slightly at the touch but didn't jerk away. Feliciano's hand was warm and smaller than his, so he gently curled his fingers around it. He took a shaky breath and felt his chest tighten. This one small touch was beginning to send little pulses of warmth throughout him. He struggled to control his breathing and subconsciously leaned toward the smaller man.
"I can't imagine you being anything but happy." His grasp then tightened slightly, though not enough to hurt.
"Heh... See, people seem to think you have no emotions, and everyone thinks that I only have one." He smirked slightly, pausing a moment just to pay attention to how Ludwig's strong, firm hand feels around his. "Sure, I am happy a lot of the time... but that's because it's easier."
Feliciano glanced down for a moment to look at their joined hands, and his heart skipped a beat or two when he really noticed how desperately the other man seemed to be holding on. Something felt very intimate about it, but at the same time forbidden. And also familiar—but he couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was.
It was only then that he really started to feel nervous. Swallowing a little, he asked a question that had been lingering in his mind for a long time: "What... what makes you happy, Ludwig?"
Ludwig felt different. That's all he could explain it as. He took his time considering the question, and no matter how many times he thought it over, Feliciano's face came up in his mind. Whether he was smiling, laughing, or being overly dramatic about training, his face was there. He didn't register the way his free hand lifted until it was level with the other's face, or how his thumb swept across it gently.
They weren't only alone in this trench; in his mind, no one existed. A tingling sensation spread from his fingertips to the rest of his body at the feel of the soft skin they pressed into ever so lightly. His lips parted slightly.
"You do," he breathed, staring deeply enough into Feliciano's eyes that he was sure he was going to fall in. It wouldn't have been so bad, either.
Like I said, it was based off an RP, so pretty much all endings will be cliffhangers. Because the story is taking place all in one day. Anyway, if you liked it, please review and tell me what you thought! ^_^