He's There For You When He Shouldn't Be.
Summary: Gilbert Weillschmidt, the school's history department head, thought everything was great, but he was easily proven wrong. Elizaveta Hedervary-Edelstein is at the end of the rope with her faith in her cheating husband. [Re-Write]
Chapter 1.
I could pretend and tell you that I didn't see any of this coming, but that would be a flat out lie. I used to take things as is; who was I to judge? Exactly, I wasn't. However, I can only go so far, pretending that we are all in Camelot. The last straw that broke my resolve? It wasn't the divorce papers on my desk this morning; it wasn't the fact that my soon-to-be ex-wife is already replacing my ring with her new fiancé's. The last straw was when I saw them fucking on my bed and when she kissed him at the end of the Student-Faculty basketball game. Here I thought we were all okay; well, okay for our standards. Okay for us? She and I were up late grading papers, and my brother was up late keeping his and his school's band teacher's secret. That was okay. Where do I go now?
I sit back in my chair as I monitor today's Socratic seminar, so I can assign a participation grade. It's always the same three people that have a triangle of a discussion within the first discussion. The second discussion is dead because they didn't do the little bit of homework that I give to begin with. I mindlessly check names as I hear familiar voices. I try to fill out the attendance for the day. The same two people aren't here; they've never been to a single seminar this entire year. How sad. My left hand brushes those divorce papers I mentioned before. She has already signed it in her loopy handwriting that I have grown so used to. No counseling, no talking, she just went to him for a good time and then fell in love with him. She never even tried. I look around the room; half the students outside of this discussion are writing their mandatory five questions now. The other half is doing math or science homework.
"Marijuana becomes an issue here; doesn't it, Mr. W?" I snap back to the discussion when a girl who prefers to be called 'Ray.'
"Well, sure, but you know, all the 'Baby Boomer' presidents have smoked pot; well, save Clinton. But he did it, just didn't inhale. Guess he just liked the taste of it." They laugh and go back to their discussion. I miss that carelessness when you're that age.
–i–
I open the door to my townhouse and throw my keys on the counter. I run a hand through my hair as I open the fridge with my other hand. I hear the door open behind me, and seconds later, I see Ludwig's hand reaching for a beer.
"Hey, my money, my beer." I grab his hand.
"You sound like Dad." He retorts flatly as he grabs a beer regardless of what I said.
"Well, keep drinking, maybe it'll bring you down to average brain level." I joke.
"Fuck you." He hisses.
"So, Chiara again?" I ask; my eyebrow instinctively arching.
"She says that maybe it's all in her head and that no one ever helps her figure anything out; then I told her 'maybe if you told me what you think is in your head, I could help!' She said I wouldn't understand because I'm too young. Bullshit." He pops the cap of his beer.
"She's nervous, you know? Having a relationship with a student is as frowned upon as incest."
"She's driving me crazy; I'm not even her student." He runs his hand through his hair. "Besides, next year is my senior year, and after that, no one will give a shit about what she and I do."
"True, I'm working at your school next year." I state mindlessly.
"You can't change my mind."
"I know; who am I to intervene with love?"
"Madeline called, announcing that the meeting between your lawyers is tomorrow."
"You know what we're discussing at this meeting, right?"
"Whether or not you're stable enough to be a parent guardian for a child like me."
"Of course."
–i–
Being a history buff, I enjoy sitting on my couch and watching the Hatfields & the McCoys. Ludwig sits next to me, buzzed out of his mind. He just sits and stares at the T.V. There is a knock at the door, and I can feel my body go numb and my muscles tense in anticipation of having to face Madeline again before she becomes Mrs. Madeline Williams-Jones. Ludwig saunters over to the door slowly but surely. He opens the door and begins to say 'hello,' but he is soon cut off by something. I pause the docu-drama and stare in the direction of the door. The door is closed at the moment. Ludwig is holding Chiara in his arms, kissing her forehead. They say he's too young to understand these things, but it's obvious that they're wrong. For someone his age, he has to be the most understanding. Chiara's hands brush his neck as they kiss; their kiss is littered with words of apology and acceptance. He gently presses her against the door, and her hands press into his back. I turn back to the T.V. And begin playing the docu-drama again, and although I watch my history shows at a decently high volume, I can still hear them in his room. And I find myself jealous because his problems were fixed so easily, but mine will fester over time, getting worse and worse. I will reiterate, 'who am I to judge?' My marriage fell to shit, and now, my soon-to-be ex-wife is marrying the school's biggest tool, the gym teacher.
I finish episode three of the docu-drama trilogy, and I see Ludwig wander out of his room from the corner of my eye. He's wearing a pair of boxers, looks tired, but has a smile like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.
"I see that shit worked out." I remark as I stand up from the couch.
"I know." He smiles.
"I'm glad things turned out well for you, Lud." His smile drops a bit as he pads his way over to the couch.
"I forget sometimes." I arch an eyebrow in response. "I forget that you put up with everyone's shit, and I worry about you sometimes."
"I'm fine." I fake a smile.
"Dad said that and then he slammed his head into that bucket." Our father commit suicide, and then, incapable of recovering from the grief, our mother soon followed him. We're all that's left, and I worry that something may happen that pulls the two of us – all we have left of out family – apart for good. Either way, my life is beyond repair, and maybe this is for the best.
A/N: This is a re-write for a fic under the same title that I decided to re-write. Criticism is appreciated. I hope you enjoy it.
~FromPrussiaWithLove.