Ludwig's days were always the same.

Wake up, take his pills, go to work, go home, make food, watch TV, go to sleep.

It was monotonous and dreary, but he liked the routine.

Gilbert was round today, as it was a Thursday, and that was the routine he had for Thursday's.

"How you feeling!?" He'd ask, as he normally did.

"Fine." Ludwig would reply.

Gilbert would then clean the apartment and wash any clothes and cook him dinner. Ludwig hated his brother doing this for him, but it was a compromise. If Ludwig wouldn't live with Gilbert and his girlfriend, then Gilbert would at least come round every week to allow Ludwig to relax.

Ludwig had to accept. But Gilbert would put effort into making a nice meal for them both, and it'd be far more nourishing than Ludwig could make, because if Ludwig had his way then he'd just bake cakes all the time.

"Ludwig, let's go out for a drink!" Gilbert proposed today.

Ludwig shrugged on the sofa. "I'm not feeling it."

Gilbert was clearly disappointed, but he didn't respond and they sat down to watch a movie instead which Ludwig made no attempt at paying attention to.

He tried to ignore Gilbert's worried glances.

He enjoyed walking.

A good day at work at the office would put him in a good mood, and so he'd find somewhere to walk to.

Usually it was the park, as he liked the peace and quiet, but today he decided to walk around the streets of town and get himself some food.

He rounded a corner, and found himself down a street he wasn't sure if he'd been down before. He found himself in front of a small cafe, called ' an Italian slice. " He'd never seen it before.

Feeling hungry, and attracted to the idea of a hot drink, he pushed himself inside, and felt a little awkward when it was empty of customers except for him.

" Ciao! Please sit, and I'll come and help you!" A cheery voice called from the behind the counter. A slim man was there, with brown hair and a curl.

Ludwig nodded, and kept wishing that he'd chosen somewhere busier as he sat down.

The cheery man walked over to him. "Hello, can I help you?" The man asked in clumsy German. Well, it was an Italian cafe. He supposed he should've expected it.

He ended up ordering some cake and a strong black coffee. The man had bounded away happily to fetch his order.

The cake was delicious, and the coffee was exactly what he needed.

What was not fine was the waiter trying to make conversation.

"Do you live in this town?" He asked cheerily.

Ludwig was startled by the Italian asking questions. "Yes." He responded.

"I've lived here for a while now. I'm originally from a small town in Italy, but I moved with my brother after a previous venture closed down."

Ludwig nodded. He was bewildered by the waiters chattiness, do people just talk to strangers in Italy? "I see."

The Italian smiled. "My name is Feliciano, and yours?"

"Ludwig." He said pathetically. All he wanted was lunch. And now he was being forced to make conversation.

Feliciano nodded. "What do you work as?"

Ludwig shifted his feet. "Banking head offices."

"Sounds intense!"

Ludwig looked at him. "I'm not sure 'intense' is the right word."

Feliciano laughed. "It seems intense to me! I couldn't work in an environment like that. I love working with food, even if it's just following the recipes on the set menu I still feel like I'm creating something!"

Ludwig nodded. "Uh, I enjoy baking as well." This was so awkward. Now he was trying to relate. This never happened.

"That's nice! I love German baking, it's nicer than German cooking!" He said cheerily. "Let me show you the recipes I've learnt whilst here!"

Ludwig opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his mouth as Feliciano had already scurried away. He drummed his fingers on the table, trying to dispel his nervousness. He wondered if putting the money on the table and leaving was rude, but the Italian returned with a heavy book in his hands.

"I've learnt a lot of recipes since I arrived, and I've also tweaked some Italian recipes to make them more palatable to German tastes."

Feliciano talked a lot. Ludwig felt a little intimidated by the sheer amount of words, but let Feliciano continue. After a bit he relaxed, finding the man's babble at least mind-numbing and sort of charming, even if continued to be confused as to why he was talking to him in the first place.

"...and this is a German recipe I tried, but I really didn't like it."

"That's one of my favourites."

Feliciano blinked. "Oooh, sorry, Maybe if a German made it'd be nicer!"

Ludwig smiled slightly. "I suppose."

"Hey, you should come round and show me your baking skills!"

What was happening? He'd just met a random man who seemed to run the cafe he was in and now he was inviting round his… House?

Was this man… Flirting with him? No, no way, definitely not.

"Shit Feli, I go out for an hour and I come back and you're harassing the customers again!" Ludwig heard an angry voice shout, removing him from his frettings. He saw a similar looking man to Feliciano arrive behind the counter and take his coat off.

"I wasn't harassing. I was just chatting!" Feliciano retorted, and smiled at Ludwig. "We're going to be shutting soon."

"Oh, really?" Ludwig said, looking at his watch. It was 3 o'clock.

"Tuesday's aren't busy, so we shut early." He smiled apologetically. Ludwig stood up to pay the bill, and Feliciano smiled again, and Ludwig felt his initial annoyance at the man melting under such infectious smiles. "Ludwig, please come again!" He said cheerily.

Ludwig nodded, and tried to give his best smile as he walked away to the door. As he exited, he told himself that he wouldn't come here again. Too strange.

"Me and my brother are from Rome! Where are you from?"

"Near Munich. Me and my brother moved here a few years ago."

"That's nice! Germany is such a change to Italy, but at the same time not really…"

Feliciano began to babble on, and it turned into a sludge as Ludwig's thoughts began to wander. Ludwig wasn't sure why he was here.

It was a week later, he had been walking again, and then found himself near the cafe. He couldn't pinpoint why he decided to eat lunch there again.

Again, the cafe was empty. Feliciano explained they didn't do much business on Tuesdays, for some reason.

"... You're not listening are you?" Feliciano said, and of course that snapped him back into paying attention.

"Oh- sorry" he said apologetically. He couldn't even listen to someone who was talking to him.

"I always talk too much! Everyone says it. My brother says I'm a motormouth, haha!"

"Oh no, it's fine. My fault." He said.

Feliciano smiled. "Let me fetch you another coffee- no, it's one the house." He smiled.

Ludwig felt confused. Why was he being so generous, even when Ludwig couldn't pay full attention to his conversation? Feliciano was a strange person. He was always smiling. Was that the Italian way?

Feliciano brought him an espresso, and Ludwig didn't have the confidence to tell him that all this caffeine does not sit well with him. He drank it anyway.

The two chatted for a bit, feliciano leading the conversation. Ludwig didn't mind. He hoped Feliciano didn't; he was a hard man to read. Happy all the time. How could he know?

As Ludwig previously though; a strange man indeed.

"Did you always want to be a banker then?" Feliciano asked then.

Ludwig shrugged. "Not really."

Feliciano smiled. "Anything specific you had in mind?"

Ludwig tried to think back. Did he ever have a career goal? He pursed his lips. "I had an ambition to be a priest once. That faded during my teenage years." He felt slightly vulnerable even admitting such a thing.

Feliciano's eyes widened in surprise. "A priest!? How different." Feliciano paused. "Any reason why not?"

Ludwig shrugged. "The general reason. A lack of faith. Other circumstances."

Feliciano nodded. "That's interesting." He said, as if he didn't really know how to respond. "My family was more culturally religious then practicing religious."

"My family was all for it… Very... fundamental. My brother still goes to church though. He's not fundamental or conservative though." He said. "Actually, sorry, I Don't really want to talk about this."

"Sorry, I had no intention to make you uncomfortable." Feliciano said apologetically.

Ludwig shook his head. "It's fine."

An awkward silence followed. "I always wanted to be involved with cooking though." Feliciano babbled on. Ludwig realised he didn't mind not saying anything, and he could very easily listen to the Italian man talk anytime.

Lovino eventually came back to help Feliciano close the shop. He hadn't recognised Ludwig at first, but rolled his eyes when Feliciano introduced him.

Ludwig left. He and Feliciano were two very different people. Feliciano was full of life and exciting and chatty and funny and Ludwig was the opposite of all those things.

He wouldn't visit again.

"Hey Ludwig, you should try and get out more." Gilbert said. Thursday's. Gilbert was round. Which meant more of his suggestions and breaking of his order.

Ludwig flicked through the pages of the novel he was reading. "You've said." He replied gruffly.

"Well, you could come with me- to church."

"You've mentioned that before too."

Gilbert laughed, and plonked down on the bed. "It's cool, they're chill there, and you can chat and pray and ask for advice-"

Ludwig just looked at Gilbert as he cut him off. "What's the point? I don't believe."

Gilbert nodded. "Well, I know you say that, but we grew up so strictly I think it might be nice for you to see the other side. Even if you don't really believe or anything."

Ludwig internally flinched at the thought of it. Him! ? In a church!? He'd made an effort not to step foot in one, and as. If they really wanted him there.

"Gilbert really, I'm fine."

Gilbert nodded and they went back to reading their respective novels.

It was only because he had nothing better to do.

It was only because the food was good there, is what he told himself.

It was only because, like Gilbert said, he needed to get out more and try and meet new people. He was just following his brother's advice.

He didn't really expect the person to make friends with an Italian waiter.

Feliciano was… Charming. And unlike anyone he had never met before. Was it because he was Italian? But Romano was so sour compared to how sweet Feliciano was.

Feliciano was... special. And Ludwig couldn't pinpoint why; but Ludwig couldn't deny that he always wanted to see him.

So Ludwig visited every week, on Tuesday, an hour before closing. If he tried hard, he could kid himself that it was what Feliciano wanted as well. He always seemed happy to see him, but Ludwig had a feeling Feliciano was just like this to everyone.

Feliciano was special and Ludwig himself certainly was not. And Ludwig felt like a perverted stalker, visiting Feliciano every week even if Feliciano chatted as well and seemed fine with it.

Feliciano probably wasn't even gay. He probably had a beautiful Italian girlfriend, maybe even a wife. He probably went home and told her stories of the odd and boring German man who came into an empty cafe to talk to him.

But Ludwig couldn't keep away.

Even after he heard Lovino mutter to Feliciano: "Why do you keep talking to him, the miserable bastard." Feliciano had immediately hushed him. Those words had stung more than he tried to let on, but he had made no motion to show he had overheard.

He carried on, as normal, but he knew that Lovino's words were exactly true.

Elizabeta was an exciting person.

She defied expectations. When she was a child and teenager, she behaved like a boy. Everyone has assumed she was a lesbian, or that'd she'd never find a boyfriend. That's what his own parents had said, and has chided Gilbert for being friends with her. "there's more suitable young ladies for you be acquainted with Gilbert. Would God love a woman who presents herself in the image of a man?"

However, when she was 16 she changed her outward look. She became more feminine, and brushed her long locks and wore makeup and chose dresses over tracksuit bottoms and sweaters.

His parents suddenly approved, and had stated that she'd make a fine wife. Gilbert had grimaced, and complained that no one else's parents talked about marriage when he was sixteen.

Ludwig eventually asked why Elizabeta changed her looks when she married Gilbert.

Elizabeta shrugged. "I got bored with it all. Dresses and makeup are more fun than trainers and baseball caps."

Ludwig realised she didn't change at all. She was still scrappy and dirty and uncouth and confident but presented herself as a fine young lady because what was wrong with being pretty.

At the age of 13 when he realised this, he realised his parents weren't correct about a lot of things.

He enjoyed their company very much, they always made him laugh and he always felt better in their company than not. But he had nothing to give back.

He was staying over at their flat one night, after Gilbert dragged him round to enjoy their cooking. He had crept to the kitchen late one night to fetch a glass of water, when he'd overheard them speaking from their bedroom.

"I'm worried, Liz, he's just being distant again. And that's what had happened before."

"He's always been a little distant. Maybe I don't know him as well as you do but I can't see a regression."

"I'd like to get him in a hospital again- but unless he's suicidal or dangerous I can't get him there without his permission. And he hates hospitals. I don't know what to do anymore." Ludwig heard some muffled sobs.

Ludwig was making his brother's life and his wife a misery.

Pathetic.

Ludwig did recognise what Gilbert was saying though.

He was slipping. He recognised this when he walked down the streets, talked to people and that.

How could people get up everyday, and walk to work and then do work and three come home and sleep well whilst he struggled to do all these things even on medication.

He was clinging to Feliciano.

He'd been seeing Feliciano for a few months now. Visiting every Tuesday. And every visit felt like a beautiful light.

"Ciao, my beautiful friend! How are you!?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"So polite, Ludwig! So, have you started watching Breaking Bad yet!? It's really good!"

This was pathetic. Looking forward every week to talk to a near stranger about whatever was on the news or what television programmes they liked or how that new cake Feliciano had made was delicious.

But Ludwig liked Feliciano's smile, his cheery attitude. He thought he was just different to other people. He thought that he was beautiful, inside and out.

But he didn't really know Feliciano. Ludwig was acting like some stalker.

Feliciano probably wouldn't even feel the same way about him, probably didn't even like men.

Ludwig was disgusting.

"Ludwig, this is a private mental hospital, and it's much nicer than the previous ward you were at, and you'd have all the medical staff and people to talk to and I can visit all the time and it's got TV's and it's by a lake and-"

"I'll think about it." He said flatly.

It was a Thursday, but Gilbert had brought Elizabeta with him, which Ludwig knew this meant Gilbert was staging an intervention.

Gilbert pursed his lips. "It's all your choice man. I just think you're getting distant, and I worry that you're not getting the support you need." He said. He drew himself closer to Ludwig. "I'm always here for you, but it's okay to ask for more help."

Ludwig nodded. "I'll think about it."

Gilbert again pursed his lips. "You're avoiding this conversation."

Ludwig didn't reply; as if cementing Gilbert's statement as true. He didn't want to talk anymore. He was done talking. Talking didn't do anything. He talked to his therapist and that did nothing. He knew he was just another name on her list, and he walked out of her office and passed the other messed up individuals in the waiting room. Talking to Gilbert helped but all he did was burden his brother and his wife with his nonsensical problems.

He was done talking.

"I'll think about it." He repeated.

Gilbert and Elizabeta eventually left, Gilbert asking for Ludwig to genuinely consider.

He was happy when they departed, finally hoping for some peace.

The next day, the Friday, he stopped taking his medication.

It wasn't doing anything anyway.

On the Monday morning he decided to not go to work.

He physically couldn't drag himself out of the door.

What was the point. He didn't enjoy work, he was sure his co workers hated him. He turned off his mobile when he saw his boss flash up on the screen, and turned off his landlines answering phone. He had no desire for the outside world.

He thought back to the weekend and He couldn't even remember what he did. Everything was blurring into one.

He remembered Gilbert on Thursday. He remembered Gilbert trying to help him. He felt sorry for his brother, who seemed convinced that he was obligated to help him.

He remembered the first time that Gilbert had to help him. He'd been so pathetic. It was when he was 16. He had been at a house party for men, gay men. He'd been invited by a friend of a friend a few times and he had always snuck off to go. He felt rebellious as he drank alcohol there and talked to other gay men and it was the first time he felt normal . But he'd never gone very far with anyone until that night.

He liked the guy he was with, he was a university student; only 18 and from the Netherlands and he was nice and he didn't rush Ludwig at all. Ludwig hoped he found someone good after all these years.

But his parents had driven round to the party he was at, as they'd found out that he wasn't studying round a friends house like he'd said and contacted a few friend and found where he was. He was dragged away from the party, from the Dutch man, and he was taken home, and he had his electronic devices taken away.

He remembered crying, sobbing at the words his parents said and wanting to get out but having nowhere to run to and he remembered how how he was called disgusting and how God didn't want men like him in heaven and he should stick to God's plan.

He believed them for a month. He remembered going to school and being a good boy and pushing any sinful thoughts out of his head and then going home and having a bible lecture and listening and trying to take notes. He always remembered crying at night though, and he tried to stifle them because he didn't want his parents to hear because his parents frightened him and he was sure it wasn't normal for teenagers to be scared of their parents.

One day, after a month, he couldn't bare the thought of going home. He sneaked out of school at lunch. He'd found a phone box and dialed gilbert's mobile number.

"Who's this?"

"It's Ludwig."

"What the hell number is this? Lucky you caught me on a lunch break."

Ludwig felt ridiculous. Gilbert was just starting out as a teacher; he needn't try and ruin his job with a panicky phone call, really, there was nothing wrong -

"You never ring, what's up? You still there?"

Ludwig eventually forced himself to speak again. "Don't hate me." He finally said.

"Why-"

"Don't hate me."

"Ludwig!?"

"I'm gay and I know God hates me and mum and dad hate me but please don't hate me I don't have anyone left." He remembered the words tumbling out of his mouth like vomit.

There was a long pause on the other side. "Ludwig, where are you? I'm coming to get you. I don't hate you, Lud, God neither, I- Ludwig please."

He'd told his location, but Gilbert worked over an hour away and he didn't know what to do so he just hid in some fast food toilets because he didn't want anyone to ask why he wasn't in school.

Gilbert came with Elizabeta driving and they took him to their home and they called his parents to tell him where he was. Later Gilbert and Elizabeta went round to pick his stuff up from his home and the row they had with his parents was legendary.

Ludwig didn't do much of the talking in the later custody talks. But as a sixteen year old, his decision was final. And of course he chose Gilbert.

His parents didn't put up much of a fight, he remembered that. They never bothered to contact him again.

Gilbert had been amazing that day, and so had Elizabeta. He'd been a failure.

He always burdened Gilbert.

He wasn't going to make Gilbert's life difficult any longer.

Pills were easy to overdose on.

His first mistake over a year ago was to try and kill himself by slitting his wrists.

It'd just been messy and Ludwig hadn't done it right as it just hurt a lot, and Ludwig couldn't be bothered with the pain after a while so he begged for help to an emergency operator.

How embarrassing.

But this was now. He'd written his note. He simply apologised to Gilbert and Elizabeta for being a burden and the new burden dealing with his death would cause them. He apologised to his parents. He wrote that he was happy to live in the fiery depths of hell, just not on earth anymore.

He briefly thought of mentioning Feliciano, but thought it best not to involve him with a random stranger's death. Feliciano didn't deserve that.

He swallowed the pills. He didn't bother counting, he just swallowed as many as he could.

He wasn't sure how long it took, but he fell off his kitchen stool when he couldn't support his body weight anymore and could feel his consciousness fading. Peace, peace, peace at last, and why was there a loud thundering at his door, was someone trying to break in…

Peace…

Originally posted on AO3. Next chapter to come soon!

Please drop a review if you liked and critique if you please!