A/N: ***UPDATE*** Heavily revised as of October 4, 2015.
This story is inspired by and loosely based on the film "Close My Eyes."
Translations for German and notes are at the end of each chapter.
Warnings: language, gay incest, the usual. Lots of (somewhat political) musing on Berlin.
Disclaimer: Hetalia doesn't belong to me, nor does "Close My Eyes" (just to be safe, even if this story is only loosely based on it)
...
It was only by chance that Ludwig decided to check his emails one last time before heading to bed. He liked to get to sleep early, but his boss had been known to send him last-minute requests as late as 10 pm. Ridiculous really. He ought to put more effort into his perfunctory scans for job openings. Joining one of the fastest growing property development firms in Berlin wasn't everything he'd thought it would be, even after three years. Time to move on.
And that was why, at 10:18 on a Sunday night, Ludwig happened to see the newest message in his inbox:
Hi Ludwig,
It's been a while. Sorry I haven't been in touch more. Wanted to let you know I'm leaving my job Kiel—going to give Berlin a try. I'm coming in Tuesday morning and was hoping I could stay with you for just a few days, till I get settled into my new place. Let me know.
Gilbert
Ludwig reread the message several times before sighing and closing his computer. He'd reply to his brother tomorrow. He figured he didn't need to waste any more of his precious sleep time for the sake of a brother he'd barely had more than a few phone calls from in the past three years since their father's passing.
Ludwig was a little disgruntled as he tried to get comfortable under his duvet. His flat was small. But Gilbert could sleep on the couch, he supposed.
...
"Hey, little brother." Gilbert grinned, a little sheepishly, as he stood on the doormat. He adjusted his grip on the strap of his duffel.
"You're late. I have to get to work." Ludwig turned to gather up his briefcase and umbrella. The forecast for the day was rain.
Gilbert raised his eyebrows. "Nice to see you too," he muttered as he stepped over the threshold.
"Extra key's on the kitchen table. You can set your stuff in the living room. You'll be sleeping on the couch."
Gilbert nodded, standing awkwardly to the side of the entryway as his brother headed back to the door.
"Oh, and Gilbert—" Ludwig turned, as if on afterthought—"don't touch my beer," and closed the door behind him.
…
"So… what will you be doing this evening?"
"Working."
"No, I mean later."
Ludwig looked up from his toast and coffee at his brother across the table. Gilbert was still in boxer shorts and a t-shirt, hair rumpled with sleep. At least he was out of bed.
"Working," he repeated. "Here. At home."
"Sheesh, you busy all the time or somethin'?"
"No, not all the time. However, it might appear that way to someone who leads a life of leisure."
Gilbert frowned. "Told you, I'm between jobs. I'll find something."
"Hmm. And your apartment? How's that coming along?"
"I'm working on it."
Ludwig sighed. "Gilbert, you can't stay here, you know."
"I told you, I'm on it, okay?"
Ludwig pursed his lips. "Okay."
…
Ludwig couldn't see any sign of his brother being "on it." For the following three nights in a row, when Ludwig came home from work (late, as his boss had been pressing him especially hard recently) he found Gilbert on the couch in front of the TV, beer in hand. Having been banned from Ludwig's supply, Gilbert had been quick to cram a few six-packs of his own in the fridge.
The first night Ludwig had politely declined Gilbert's invitation to join him in watching reruns of "Germany's Next Top Model," taking his solitary dinner into his study, as he was accustomed to do. Gilbert didn't bother him again after that, but Ludwig had to raise an eyebrow at the number of bottles he noticed accumulating on the counter.
Gilbert insisted he had some job interviews lined up, but Ludwig wasn't sure he believed him.
On Saturday morning Gilbert didn't join him at the table for breakfast. Once Ludwig had finished and put his dishes in the dishwasher, he wandered into the living room to see if his brother was still sleeping.
Sure enough, there he was, snoring gently with his hand tucked under the pillow. The blanket had slipped off his shoulder; on instinct Ludwig reached over and gently pulled it back up. Gilbert stirred, but didn't wake.
Ludwig noticed a slight frown on his brother's features, and wondered if it was always there when he slept. He wouldn't know; he hadn't lived with Gilbert since he was eight years old, when their parents had divorced. Gilbert had gone to live with their mother, and Ludwig had stayed with their father, and they'd only seen each other twice a year at most after that.
He and Gilbert had never gotten along that well as kids, but Ludwig supposed he'd missed having his big brother around as he'd gotten older. He sometimes wondered how things might have been different, how his relationship with Gilbert might be different, if their parents had stayed together.
Their mother had died of cancer when Gilbert was at university, though, and their father's heart disease had finally caught up with him as Ludwig was finishing his Master's. With both their parents gone, he and Gilbert had little left in common.
Ludwig decided it would be a good day to take his bike over to Tempelhof. The recently opened park at the former airport was a godsend of sorts; it seemed the only place where he could get some peace of mind, these days. Just leave his work and the city behind, no buildings, no construction, and just ride and ride through the vast open space.
He left a note for his brother on the coffee table:
Coffee is in the kitchen. You can make yourself toast but don't eat all the Nutella. I'll be back this afternoon.
The coffee would probably be cold by the time Gilbert woke up, but Ludwig had a microwave.
…
Ludwig was surprised to find his brother gone when he returned later with groceries. He cleaned the kitchen, the shower, and the toilet, and was nearly done hanging the last of the laundry on the folding racks in the bathroom when he heard the door open again.
"Hallo," called Gilbert from the entryway.
Ludwig popped his head out of the bathroom. "Ah, hello Gilbert. Where have you been?" He eyed the plastic bags in his brother's arms questioningly.
"Went shopping! Thought I could make dinner tonight, for the two of us," Gilbert said cheerily as he bustled into the kitchen.
"I already bought Spargel for dinner," said Ludwig blankly, following his brother.
Gilbert grinned. "Great! We can have it on the side. I'm making Königsberger Klopse."
"In this weather? Isn't it a little warm?"
"Nah, Klopse are good any time of year!"
Ludwig wanted to argue—he would prefer asparagus over meatballs on a warm night like this—but decided against it. Gilbert was trying to make a nice gesture, so he supposed he ought to appreciate it.
…
Ludwig had to admit, his brother was a better cook than he would have thought. He enjoyed dinner, even if the conversation was a little stilted.
Afterwards Gilbert convinced him to join him for a beer in the living room.
Once he was on the second beer (really his third, since he'd had a pils with dinner too) he decided to ask something he'd been wondering for a while.
"Why did you decide to leave Kiel? I thought you liked it there."
Gilbert took a long swig from his Beck's. "Liked it? …Nah, not enough going on there. It's full of students, but I'm not a student anymore. I wanted more excitement, more options. Wanted the big city."
"But your job was good, wasn't it?"
"It paid the bills. But it was never what I wanted to do."
"Oh yeah? What did you want to do?" He was honestly curious, in spite of himself.
"Oh, nothing, it's… kinda stupid really."
"No, come on, tell me."
"Well I… I always wanted a career in music. I mean, I know it's unrealistic, to try to make it as a performer, but just—something that would involve a bit more creativity, rather than punching numbers all the time…"
Ludwig took a thoughtful draught. "I remember you telling me about that band you were in… what was it? 'The Bad…' something…"
Gilbert laughed. "Oh yeah, 'The Bad Touch Trio.' Man, that was ages ago, surprised you remember."
"When did you guys break up?"
"When we graduated from university! Man… Y'know last I heard from Antonio he was in Berlin, actually. I should look him up."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, you know, lots of Spaniards coming in for internships these days."
"Yeah."
Gilbert opened another bottle. "Hey… thanks for putting me up, for a while. I'll be out of your hair soon."
"No, it's okay." Ludwig shrugged. At the moment, he did feel okay with it. This was surprisingly nice, sharing a few beers with his brother and talking properly, like they hadn't for years.
Ludwig reached for another bottle as well. "It's good to… catch up."
"Yeah. Yeah, it is." Gilbert took a long drink and sighed. "Yeah. Y'know, I'm sorry I haven't been so good at keeping in touch. I mean, it's really good of you to let me stay here on such short notice, after I haven't—I mean, not hearing from me for so long—I'll, I'll be better, about that. And I mean, now we're in the same city."
"No, it's—it's not just your fault. I'm not so good about calling either." Ludwig turned the bottle guiltily around in his hands. He supposed he really could have tried harder to keep in regular contact with Gilbert. But with his job and all, he'd just… been busy.
"Y'know I uh, there's… actually there's another reason I left Kiel."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I had a girlfriend. Pretty serious actually."
"A girlfriend? You never told me." It was true Ludwig didn't keep his brother exactly updated on his own love life, but something hurt just a bit about being kept in the dark about this.
"Yeah, I'm sorry. I, uh… Well. She left me, so. I didn't feel like I could stay. Well, I couldn't. I was living in her apartment."
Ludwig took a gulp of his beer. "Damn."
"Yeah." After a pause, Gilbert added. "Needed a change of scene. So much there just reminded me of her."
Ludwig looked over at his brother. "How long were you together?"
"Nearly a year."
"I'm sorry."
"Yeah. Thanks."
Gilbert looked sad, gazing down at his bottle. For some reason, it made Ludwig feel guilty.
"Hey," he said, reaching his bottle out. "Prost."
Gilbert met his eyes and grinned ruefully. "Prost," he responded, clinking their bottles together.
Gilbert didn't look away as they drained the rest of their beers.
Ludwig was feeling a little fuzzy-headed. He didn't usually drink so quickly, but he accepted the bottle Gilbert handed to him anyway.
"Are you happy?"
The question came out of the blue and caught Ludwig by surprise. "Happy?"
"Yeah, happy."
"Uh…" Ludwig had to admit it wasn't a question he often considered. "I… guess?" Work was tiring, but he couldn't really complain. It paid well; he had a comfortable enough flat. "I don't feel unhappy."
"Uh-uh, that's not the same thing."
"No?"
"Nope. You're lucky, if you're happy. Not many people are."
"You don't think so?"
"No."
"…You're not happy?"
Gilbert snorted. "My girlfriend of 11 months just dumped me, how do you think I feel?"
"Ah, yeah. So, unhappy."
Gilbert was silent a moment, drinking his beer and staring off into the distance. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, I think I am. I don't… I don't know what I'm doing with my life, y'know? I feel like the past few years… it's just, been such a fucking waste. That's not what I want to do. And I thought Clara was like, the one, you know? And I wasted 11 fucking months with her, planning for a future that's never gonna happen… Just…"
Ludwig laid an awkward hand on his brother's shoulder. "Hey, it's not… I'm sure it's not that bad," he said lamely, because he didn't know what else he could say.
Gilbert looked over at him. He brought an arm up over Ludwig's shoulder. "And now you're all I got. A little brother I never talk to."
Ludwig blinked. He couldn't tell if that was supposed to be slightly joking or not.
But then suddenly Gilbert was leaning forward, head resting against Ludwig's shoulder.
Ludwig looked down in surprise, unsure what he should do. Did Gilbert want him to hug him? He couldn't even remember the last time he had hugged his brother.
"Funny, isn't it?"
Ludwig didn't know what his brother was referring to.
"Guess that's what family's for though, isn't it. Last person to turn to when you don't have anyone else left. And you're my only family now."
"Uh…" Ludwig had never really thought of it that way. But he supposed Gilbert was his family. His only family. "Yeah," he said, unsure. Gilbert wasn't moving, so he set his beer down and brought his arms around his brother in a stiff sort of hug.
Ludwig felt a bit uncomfortable—the position was rather intimate, and he hadn't held anyone in his arms in quite a long while. But his brother wasn't drawing away; he seemed like he needed the consolation.
"What about you?"
"Hm?"
"You have anyone?"
Ludwig felt his face heating up a bit. He had never told his brother directly about his tastes, and he wasn't sure if Gilbert had ever guessed.
"Uh, no, not at the moment." He cleared his throat.
"You're into guys, right?" Gilbert traced his other hand up Ludwig's arm to his shoulder and locked his wrists behind his neck, as if he needed the extra support. His cold beer bottle, still clutched in one hand, pressed into Ludwig's flesh and made him shiver.
Ludwig's stomach squirmed uncomfortably. This didn't feel right.
He shifted a little, looking away. His hands felt leaden though, anchored to his brother's sides.
Gilbert pulled back just enough to look at his face. "What, you don't have to hide it from me," he laughed. "I've always known." He smirked.
Ludwig flushed and tried to pull away a little, though his arms remained where they were. "I should, um, get to bed," he muttered.
"Wait, wait." Gilbert's arms locked tighter around his neck. His head fell forward onto Ludwig's shoulder again. "Sorry, I, uh, don't go, please…"
The plea was so pitiful that Ludwig hesitated, uncomfortable as he felt.
Gilbert laughed weakly. "I just… Sorry, drinking makes me soppy sometimes… Kinda nice, though, isn't it? Just to be held…"
Ludwig felt frozen in place. Gilbert lifted his head and smiled lopsidedly. "I should let you get to bed I guess." But he didn't move his arms. His head was very close to Ludwig's, and Ludwig couldn't look away from his brother's oddly-shaded violet eyes.
Gilbert's lips twitched in a tiny laugh, and he leaned in to press them to his brother's cheek. They were warm and soft and made Ludwig's lungs stop working quite right.
It's just a goodnight kiss from your big brother, that's all.
But then Gilbert turned his head, and suddenly his mouth was on Ludwig's, warm and wet, lips and tongue moving frantically for a few bewildering seconds.
And then Gilbert was pulling back, just as abruptly as he'd started, looking down and running a hand over his face. "Sorry, sorry, Jesus. I, uh…" He shook his head and laughed a little. "Don't know what that was for, um, you should… you should get to bed…"
Ludwig sat staring at his brother, still glued to his seat in shock. His extremities felt like they were buzzing, and there was a strange pressure on his chest.
Gilbert glanced up at him, and his bright eyes looked unsure.
Ludwig nodded numbly. He stood, and somehow managed to stumble to his room and his bed.
He had a hard time sleeping that night, remembering the wet, hot press of another mouth against his. His brother's mouth.
His stomach churned, and he was sure it wasn't just the beer.
…
Gilbert was still sleeping when he rose the next day. He was gone again when Ludwig returned from his errands, and he didn't hear him come in the door until he was once again lying sleepless in his bed.
Early the next morning Ludwig heard movement in the living room and was surprised to meet Gilbert, packed bag slung over a shoulder, in the hallway.
"You're leaving?" he asked dumbly.
Gilbert nodded, not quite meeting his brother's eyes. "Yeah, got in touch with Antonio, I'll be staying at his place just till the end of the month."
"Oh."
"So, uh, thanks."
"Right. Um, breakfast?"
"No, no, I'm good thanks. Not hungry."
"Ok."
"So. See you around, little brother." He clapped Ludwig once on the shoulder and strode past towards the door.
Ludwig stood there and watched him go. Only after his brother was gone did he realize he hadn't said goodbye.
…
One Year Later
"You're late."
"Sorry, Brüderlein, you know how it is—life of a working man!"
"Don't call me that, it sounds childish."
Gilbert laughed and dropped his bag down next to his chair. "Aww, my little Lutzel-Butzel's all grown up now, is he?"
Ludwig rolled his eyes as his brother took a seat across the table from him.
Gilbert looked around at the table-covered terrace. "Nice place. Come here often?"
"It just opened. I liked the restaurant that used to be here, but I don't make it to this neighborhood very often. It's a little out of the way for me."
"Ah. Well. Thanks for making the effort today."
"Shouldn't take much effort to see a brother who lives in the same city."
"Is that aimed at me? C'mon Lutz, not my fault you live all the way in Lichterfelde."
"You're the one that chose Friedrichshain."
"I didn't choose it—Antonio did! Anyway, you're the one with meetings every frickin' day of the week."
"I'm not the one who put this lunch off for four months."
"And I'm not the one that called off Christmas dinner last minute!"
Ludwig sighed. "Let's just order, alright?" He was tired and hot and wanted a cold beer.
"Fine." Gilbert buried his nose in his menu.
Food helped ease the atmosphere between them. Gilbert told his brother about a great new gig he and Antonio had gotten that he was sure would be their big break. He was slightly less enthusiastic when questioned about his consulting job.
"I told you, my boss is nuts! And my coworkers are like those alien-possessed humans from that new Nicole Kidman movie. I'm tellin' you, it's freaky. They don't laugh, they don't even talk—I'm dying in there."
"Why don't you quit? Dedicate yourself full-time to your music?"
"Heh. You make it sound easy. We barely make rent as it is. And Antonio might have to go back to Spain, if he doesn't get the job he's hoping for."
"What about your big break?"
"Well, yeah, that would change things…" he trailed off, unconvincing.
"Gilbert, why don't you try for something in the management side of music, like you talked about last time we met up? You'd be good at it."
Gilbert squinted at him. "You think so?"
Ludwig nodded. "I do."
"Heh, you've never even heard me play. How do you know I have the ear for it?"
"You don't need to be a good player to be a good manager."
"Are you saying I'm not a good player now?"
"Like you said, how could I know?"
Gilbert snorted. "What about you? Are you the mastermind behind all the construction-cranes I've seen popping up like weeds?"
Ludwig's expression darkened. "No, that's just par for the course for Berlin. You didn't see this city in the '90s. Anyways, half the time I'm the one trying to stop the cranes from going up these days. I can't tell you how many ill-conceived projects are getting the green light, just going to the highest bidder—no respect for how development will affect neighborhoods, residents… But my boss is nothing but a lapdog to corporate interests. I can't do anything where I am."
"So, still letting the boss walk all over you?"
Ludwig hunched his shoulders. "I do not let him walk all over me."
"Ha, yeah you do. You don't think he's doing a good job, so you take it on yourself to do his work. It's in your nature. And he takes advantage. You're too stressed, I can tell every time I call."
"Which is never," muttered Ludwig.
Gilbert waved his hand. "Don't change the subject. I still say you should call it quits, start somewhere new."
Ludwig sighed. "What can I say. It's convenient working there."
"Psh. Convenience will be the death of society."
"Don't be melodramatic."
"I'm not being melodramatic, I'm being realistic."
"I think you confuse the two a bit too often." He glanced at his watch. "Shit. I have to go."
"So soon?"
"If you'd come on time we would have had longer." He signaled the waiter and asked to pay.
"Alright, alright. Well, call every once in a while, will you?"
"I will if you will."
…
Ludwig only called Gilbert twice in the next eight months, and he only heard from his brother once, until he got a call from Gilbert in mid-February asking for him to come to his and Antonio's last gig. Antonio would be heading back to Madrid in March; the job had fallen through.
Ludwig arrived late; his boss had kept him over-time, and it had taken over an hour to get from Zehlendorf all the way to Ostkreuz, where Gilbert was playing.
Ludwig felt over-dressed in his work clothes. He removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie a bit, and stayed in the back corner of the club until his brother's set was over. A few girls came up and tried to dance with him, but they gave up when Ludwig stiffly refused to move to the beat.
"Ludwig!" Gilbert shouted when he'd made his way back out to the dance floor, barely audible over the deafening music of the DJ that had taken his place on stage. He swung an arm over his brother's shoulders. "Glad you made it! This is Antonio—Antonio, this is my brother!"
The brunet who had trailed Gilbert through the crowd beamed and shook Ludwig's hand enthusiastically. "Pleased to finally meet you! Gilbert's told me so much!"
Ludwig blushed slightly at that, wondering if it was even true and thinking whatever Gilbert had to say probably couldn't be that good.
Gilbert turned to shout in his brother's ear. "There's an after-party at our flat—you should come along!"
Ludwig wasn't one for parties, but he hadn't seen his brother in quite a while, and he knew Gilbert wanted him there. He'd already come this far anyway.
…
The party was nearly as loud as the club had been. Ludwig stood awkwardly in the corner, drink in hand, occasionally exchanging a few words with the increasingly drunk people who struck up conversation with him.
And because he didn't really have anything else to do, Ludwig drank too.
When he was on his fourth bottle, Antonio dragged him out to the dance floor for a little while, but Ludwig soon made his escape to the kitchen, where he grabbed another cold beer and chugged it down.
"Ludwig, there you are! What are you doing hiding in the kitchen?" Gilbert careened into him, a large drunken grin on his face. "Here, have a beer with me!" he slurred, pressing yet another bottle into his brother's hand.
"No, I just—"
"Drink!"
Gilbert started gulping down his own bottle, so Ludwig sighed and followed suit with slightly less gusto.
"Good! Now we dance!" Gilbert's hands went to his brother's waist and pulled him against him. That hazy smile was still on his face.
"Did you like my music?" Gilbert asked, leaning in.
"Uh—" Ludwig felt a bit too warm with his brother pressed against him like this. "Yes, it was good." His tongue felt thick in his mouth.
Gilbert beamed. "I'm so glad you came," he said, hands moving up Ludwig's chest to his neck and head. "Really, really glad… so nice of you…"
Gilbert's hands were in his hair, and Ludwig could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Everything felt sluggish and tingly at the same time, and Gilbert's head was so close, his lips were so close, close enough to kiss…
Strange thought to have about your brother, Ludwig's clouded mind managed.
A burst of raucous laughter to the right made Gilbert pull back as Antonio and a few other drunken party-goers stumbled into the kitchen in search of more beer.
They pulled Gilbert along with them back to the room with the loud music, and the next time Ludwig found his brother he was passed out on the couch.
He decided he was sober enough to make his way home.
...
Translation/notes:
Die Träumer: The Dreamers
Hallo: hello
Spargel: asparagus (often white)
Königsberger Klopse: meatball dish, a Prussian specialty
Prost: cheers
Brüderlein: little brother-an old-fashioned expression
Tempelhof was once Berlin's main airport, but it was closed down and then, several years ago, reopened to the public as a park. The former runways are popular with bikers, rollerbladers, joggers, etc.
"Pils" is pilsner beer and "Beck's" is a beer brand.
Lichterfelde, Friedrichshain, Zehlendorf, and Ostkreuz are all areas of Berlin.