Hospital:
"And you can't remember anything?" A doctor asks me. He's shining lights in my eyes, tapping my knees, and checking the, what's it called, IV I think.
"No." I answer him again for what seemed like the millionth time. He turns away and addresses another man. One with shoulder length blond hair and a stern and strict face.
"This isn't exactly unusual. When a boy this age, witnesses a trauma of that magnitude. Not to mention the head injuries, blood loss, and coma, amnesia isn't that rare." And now he's using even more big words, ones that I have no hope of understanding. Psychological trauma, therapy, emotional scarring, and possible changes in character. Their words drift towards me as they leave the room.
…
"Did I have any nicknames as a kid." Gilbert looked up from the computer screen, and gave me an odd look. We were inside of his room, I hate being in his room. It wasn't messy really, but small things about it irked me. The hamper of clothes over filling, barely managing to not topple over and spill onto the ground. Or the bed with the blanket thrown over it, a pitiful attempt to make it appear the tiniest bit neat. The pale green carpet with the ugly stain. Even after an hour of scrubbing he wasn't able to get the stain out. Or maybe it was just that simple brown box sticking out of his closet. The one I had came across a year back while trying to find my winter jacket he had stolen to do God knows what with it. The one filled with magazines of showing off a large pair of breast. A layer below it a book filled of famous scientist look a likes in compromising poses. The extremely accurate one of Albert Einstein made me incapable of sitting through science class for a week.
"Yeah, why?" He questioned me.
"I have to fill out a survey... thingy for English. Feliciano says they do this every year on the first day." Gilbert laughed and grinned at me.
"Let me see that." He told me snatching the paper from my hand. "'The Childhood of insert name here?' Delightful." And I felt uncomfortable, I think he did too. The paper was easy enough to bluff through it. No, no, yes, red, elephant. But a gnawing curiosity was overtaking me, and his name was Feliciano. I know a few of Gilbert's friends knew about it, our mother. Antonio, Francis, Elizaveta, and Roderich, though the last one wasn't exactly by choice. I could always just tell him the basics, this had happened resulting in this. But Feliciano had always been curious. About anything and everything. Maybe he would leave it alone, the "My mother nearly killed me" excuse seems to work well on most people.
…
Hospital:
It's a week later and I meet a boy. He says he's my brother, but I don't know if I should believe him or not. He looks nothing like me, or the blond man from earlier that is my Grandfather. Opa, the man said to call him Opa. The boy actually looks like no one I have ever seen. His hair is silver, he brushes it out of his face often. His skin is pale. Paler than mine, which looks sickly and weak but then again I feel sickly and weak so what do I expect? It is nearly translucent with light purple circles under his eyes. His eyes, they scare me. A bright red, a color I've never seen on a human outside of TV and comics. To be honest, he frightens me.
He grins at me and says, "Hey Luddy, 'member me?" The doctors say my name is Ludwig, and that I am seven.
"No." He pouts and crosses his arms. The blond man- I mean Opa, sighs and tells him to be patient.
"I'm your awesome older brother. Gilbert. Ring a bell, bro?" They say that I've been sleeping for a long time. That another week and it would had been for two months. They say I didn't chose to sleep.
"No." He looks shocked, and scowls. Opa comes closer, awkwardly he raises a hand, wondering if he should maybe pat his back, hug him, do something. Instead he tells him again, Be patient. He doesn't remember a lot. And the boy ignores him.
"How can you forget me? The awesomest brother that you ever had! Not even ammonia-" They say I got hurt. It made me lose blood and messed with my head. It made me go to sleep and not want to wake up.
" Amnesia, the doctors said amnesia, not ammonia, Gilbert..." Opa corrects him. Even I know that one.
"Should ever let you forget me!" They say it was my mother's fault. Then they apologize and tell me we would talk later.
…
"You were proud," Gilbert grinned at me and finally started to answer my question. "You seriously thought you were the shit as a kid. I don't remember when you first started changing your name, but every year on your birthday you would throw a fit and say it wasn't good enough. You never liked the name Ludwig, you said it wasn't an honorable name. That you would never rule the world or get the girl with a name like that."
I looked up at him, commanding my face not to let any emotion slip out. I scowl and nod for him to continue.
"Aaron, Jason, and I think Henry. You had weird tastes kid. When you started kindergarten our parents ended up flipping. None of your teachers could get you to answer to Ludwig, you just ignored them. After a bit and a few phone calls from Mutti and Vatti they just called you by whatever." He looked away while I wrote down my answers. Mutti and Vatti, I could hear him tap his finger angrily against the top of the table. I looked up at him, wondered if I should stop, fill the rest out by myself, but not wanting to. He nodded at me to continue.
"Childhood friend?" He thought for a second before grinning at me and laughing.
"Yeah, you were a player, kid."
…
First grade, six years old:
There's a new girl in our class. Her name is Feliciano.* She sits next to me and I help her with her classwork. She's not very bright, but she seems nice. Really nice. At recess she shows me how to build a castle in the sandbox. Even as I pout in frustration and kick it over, she just smiles at me.
"You're suppose to do this, silly. Watch!" And creates a perfect tower. I follow her directions, erecting structures and towers as she runs around excited looking for things to decorate it with. By the time our lunch break is nearly over she is fiddling with a twig, trying to make it just right as the teacher blows a whistle signaling that we have only five minutes left.
"Thank you for helping me, it looks great now!" She says excited.
"T-thank you." I stutter out. Finally finished she cheers and hugs me.
"It's perfect!"
"Do you wanna rule the world with me?" I blurt out. There is silence.
"Ve?"
"Nothing! Shut up! Go away!" And I run away, head over heels for the new girl, Feliciano Vargas.
…
"I think it was Feliciano that you use to hang out with?"
"Feli?" After I was let out of the hospital we had moved away from this town. Our grandfather lived two hours away from here and thought it more convenient to enroll us into a new school then move. We had moved in with him and life started over. For me however it seemed to have just begun.
"Yeah," He said grinning. "That's pretty ironic. True love and shit." I glared at him, that joke had gotten old awhile ago.
"I am not in love with him. He's just a frie-"
"A friend who you write about in your diary every day?" He cut me off, quirking an eyebrow and giving me a shit eating grin.
"I don't have a diary. It's a log book." ...one with Feliciano's name scribbled all over the pages surrounded by crudely drawn hearts.
"Anyways, you were completely in love with the dude. I'm surprise he doesn't remember you." He told me. "You just sucked at flirting. Eli would always tell me stories about you two. Yeah, she and Roddy would mentor you in, like, this mentoring program and shit. First graders would hang with the third graders. We'd help you paint and read and do math or count or something." I nodded along to what he is saying. "You were terrible at flirting, lil bro." He finally told me.
"..."
"Like seriously, no game. You'd chase after her around the playground, mess up her paintings, and ask her to become your queen or something."
"..." He laughed at my expression. Face expressionless as I glared at the wall, I could feel my cheeks redden. "Queen?"
"Yeah, you wanted the rule the world. Have everyone become part of your kingdom. You even promised to name it after me if I joined." He told me grinning. Gilbert brushed his hair out of his red eyes and asked me if the offer still stood.
"No."
"Well that sucks. Anyways, you use to dress up in the stupidest outfit. You found an old Halloween cape of mine and a hat of Opa's. You would wear it every single day. No matter how much you were teased or how much our father would ask you not to." Our father, he had dropped the affectionate "Vatti" instead opting for a more detached and cold "father."
…
First grade:
He works a lot, my dad. Sometimes if I wake up really early I can see him, eating breakfast in the living room, maybe watching one of the German movies he keeps around. We had moved here two years ago, I don't remember Germany much. I remember Gilbert leaving for school early in the morning with Mutti. And I remember our English lessons. Gilbert use to laugh and poke me, whispering the bad English words the boys in the schoolyard taught him. Occasionally Mutti would here him, smack the back of his head, and tell Vatti to take care of it. Our Grandfather, Opa, had moved to America before I was born. Mutti missed him, Vatti was low on money, they decided the land of the free was a good place to live. Now two years later here we are, Vatti stays out too late, Mutti's always angry. Opa's angry at them or something, Gilbert told me this. But still, spankings from Mutti have evolved from tiny smacks to hits leaving bruises. Sometimes we aren't even in trouble and we still receive them.
"Daddy! Make her stop!" Gilbert will scream out forgetting to use the simple English he knows. Thrash around, push her away, Vatti's not home, never home. This is the first time she ever smacked one of us across the face, hard enough to leave a bruise. A low wail, Gilbert goes limp, I duck back behind the door so she doesn't see me. Mutti-My mother scares me.
…
My brother was laughing much to hard. Only able to get the words locker room, swimming, and Feliciano out. I didn't want to know.
…
First Grade:
Steps, they're hard. I note this as I tumble down them, Gilbert screaming from the top of them as my mother looks down coldly, unflinching unmoving. My leg hurts, I wonder if she'll blame this on Gilbert also. "My boys always fight." She laughs and tell the teacher. "With the neighbor's kids, with themselves, I'm having trouble teaching them hands to themselves." I'm waiting, waiting for her to look down with false shock and run down to me. Hug me, ask if I'm okay, don't scare me like that Luddy! I'll pout, play along, tell her to call me Jason, I hate the name Ludwig. Where's my hug, why isn't she stopping?
…
Hospital:
Seven stab wounds to the chest, a crack skull, broken leg, I look at the doctors blankly, soaking up the information they are telling. They tell me I have something wrong with my brain, that I may get my memories back, but it is unlikely. I shrug, not caring much. They leave me alone to allow Opa and my brother in. The boy grins at me, he holds something behind his back and smiles at me widely, cocky and arrogant as if he is my superior.
"Guess who's you're awesomest older brother in the history of awesome." I decide I don't like hearing him speak.
"Would that be you?" I ask, he doesn't understand my sarcasm. He thrusts a large black hat into my hands roughly, and I see Opa smile from the corner and goes to wait outside. I look at it like it's a filthy rag. Gilbert's smile disappears.
"It's a hat."
"I can see that, why are you giving it to me?" He clenches his fist and scowls.
"It's yours, put it on."
"I don't want to."
"I said put it on!" He shouts angrily. He crosses his arms, glares at me, and is obviously serious. Opa's walks in and walks up behind Gilbert.
"Calm down, he needs time."
"No." I tell him. Stubborn. He cries out in anger and lunges at me, in an instant Opa loops his arm around his waist and pulls him back. It's almost comical, the small boy being held back in the arm shouting and yelling spitting and cursing as he claws at the air and tries to rip me to pieces.
"Put it on put it on!" I notice after a bit the language isn't the same as the nurses and doctors have been speaking. So I'm bilingual, huh? The tantrum only lasts for a few seconds before he stops screaming and breaks down in tears. He wants is brother back, that's not his brother. He keeps shouting this. Eventually he's led out of the room and the nurse comes back in to check my pulse and stress levels and other things. She explains what she is doing and I find that I'm interested. As she leaves I ask her to throw out the hat, I don't like it.
…
Eventually Gilbert and I fall into an awkward silence. He broke it eventually, blunt as always. "She was mad that night, when she fucked you up. I think that was when our father packed his bags and left for good, said he was going to marry a nice girl. She was a Swedish stripper." In the end he had to go to jail for child neglect and other serious charges such as that. "Threw you down the steps and made me watch. Wasn't satisfied, never fucking satisfied." He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, pissed beyond belief. "Eventually I tried to fight back as she grabbed the kitchen knife but she swung at me so I ran. Not even my awesome could beat that?" And he laughed at his own joke turned around in his chair I think to cover up the moisture in his eyes. "Got Roddy's Dad, he busted in the house with a Goddamn baseball bat. 'Mutti ist töten Ludwig! Mutti ist töten Ludwig!' Fucking bitch." I decided to leave. I was not good at giving comfort, he was horrible at receiving it.
…
Gilbert stumbles out of the house, making a beeline for Eli'zaveta's yard across the street. She is there with Roderiche and her's parent's, sipping ice tea and lemonade, preparing to ask what Gilbert needed, would he like some sweets? Until the tears rolling down his face and the deep cut on his arm register in their mind. Then his words. "Mummy is killing Ludwig, Mummy is killing Ludwig!"
…
I decided to leave. I was not good at giving comfort, he was horrible at receiving it.
...
Eighth grade:
Gilbert walks me to school. On the way we meet his friends who meet their. An Italian boy sends me confused looks, flinching back in fear as I ask him what he wanted.
"Do I know you?" He asks confused.
"I don't know, do you?"
…
Author Note: I think it should be obvious Grandfather is Germania. 1.) Sticking with the girl thingy. 2.) The parents are regular Ocs that don't matter. I'd like to say however, for some reason in my head I picture Roddy's dad as a huge gym teacher looking muscle man... and his mother a dainty little woman... don't question this dammit! 3.) I don't know shit about amnesia and blah blah blah, roll with it. 4.) In my head their mom is just a regular crazy bitch that gradually became more and more abusive, their father was having an affair. This is probably obvious. Germania was not happy with his children and disowned them practically after they were convicted for shit I'm too busy to look up. Kids come first. 5.) Don't ask about the Einstein porn...