I guess I'm a bit early, but Merry Christmas! I hope that you really like this! I know that you once asked me for a story like this, so it may have taken some time, but I was able to write it all out today for you! I hope that you have a very lovely day and very merry Christmas! I hope that school went well for you too! (I hope that this GerIta story makes your day despite being so angsty!) I hope that this idea still interests you and that this little story that I wrote for you is all that you wanted then and more, because you really do deserve a lovely Christmas gift! (This idea wouldn't leave me alone lately as all it wanted to do was be written for you.) I really do hope that you enjoy reading this one and that it makes you undeniably happy!
It was the little things that hurt more than he'd ever believe.
It was the way that Ludwig swept the floor that reminded the Italian of his past and of days that he spent more often than not cleaning just like that.
Feliciano was reminded constantly of the way things used to be despite planned picnics more than spontaneous ones.
He hated the way that he felt sometimes and how if Ludwig knew, it would hurt him.
Some days, he could barely eat Wurst when Ludwig made it as it just didn't agree with him on the days that he thought back and regretted doing so.
Feliciano remembered the way things used to be when he was small and before Ludwig's time.
He remembered a gentle picnic beside the one that he loved then and often still did more than anything.
Days could drag on into hours and often times, he regretted his own decisions made back then.
He felt now as if he'd had no say right then, but still should have known, should have said something.
Some days, routine failed him, and he did not want to make dinner for two or lean close enough to Ludwig to feel warm skin that tempted him most of the time with its strength nor did he want to feel those lips meet his, rough and chapped and utterly beautiful as they usually appeared to Feliciano's eyes.
Some days, he hated being so close and affectionate and tender with Ludwig.
On those days, he had to deliberately count to ten or think of something pleasant that he was not doing; Ludwig mustn't know about the occasional guilt or the past that Feliciano once had or the way that he wrote down every immediate memory of those days for safekeeping and in an attempt to forget.
Routines fell almost easily into place with how long they'd been together and lived together; he missed the old ways that he'd known as a kid: the ways that brought smiles to his face and often left him happy until life became too much, and they were left as just memories.
Those days, he made Ludwig paint with him to remind himself that Ludwig did not paint as poorly as Gabriel once had nor did he learn the way that Gabriel did to create paintings that grew so much better.
Feliciano did not have the heart to instruct Ludwig how to paint better, just the means to tell him that it was great, really.
He curled in on himself those days after he'd slept with Ludwig while the man was still sound asleep and cried for hours on end; it was enough to get him by for now.
Feliciano always felt like an awful husband on those days and felt more broken than he ever would have noticed before as guilt ate up his being and heartache fed it.
He stared at those words written on days like this and could barely keep his tears at bay for a moment as he bawled at the words that told of picnics aided by parental figures and a tender kiss and a promise, words that went on to write of love that meant more than anything even to this day.
His hands reached out to tenderly latch on to the letters that he slowly dropped back into where they hid before tossing that away with a heart full of longing where it shouldn't and pain laced tears that never seemed to cease falling until he was long asleep and the morning would bring lies of oh, I just couldn't fall asleep or I drunk too much yesterday when your brother visited, Ludwig, please don't worry.
His eyes were never bloodshot from the alcohol, only from the pain that always managed to follow him around.
'I'm sorry, Ludwig, for not cherishing everything you do for me or allowing myself the ability to handle everything and for never letting you know that my heart aches more than you can fix.'
'I promise I love you and that I don't just see him when I look into your beautiful blue eyes.'
'Do you believe me?'
Tears never did seem to know when to stop and still some days were hard to deal with when pain brought back up memories thought to be long forgotten.
Hearts never did forget a scar now, did they?