(Guten tag. This is a test update)

Through the Looking-Glass

Gilbert rubbed his eyes sleepily before continuing his task of counting the stripes on the dull wallpaper. How long had he been forced to wait? Sure, it was called the waiting room for a reason, but there was a difference between waiting and being held prisoner in a cramped, striped room.

"What time is it, West?" Gilbert muttered. For some odd reason, waiting rooms stifled everyone's voices even though there really wasn't any reason to.

"Two twenty-six," Ludwig answered. Gilbert groaned and leaned back in the dark blue plastic chair he was sitting on. They had been stuck here for a good forty minutes. Doctors certainly took their time breaking bad news to people.

"How are you feeling?" Ludwig asked.

Gilbert shrugged. "Tired. Whoozy. What do you expect?" He shook his head. "Don't look at me that way, West. I'm not some damsel in distress."

"Could've fooled me," Ludwig said, smirking slightly.

Gilbert punched Ludwig playfully in the shoulder. Ludwig could barely feel Gilbert's fist on his shoulder; his blows were much softer than before.

Gilbert gazed around the silent waiting room. There were worried families clumped together, glancing nervously at the door. Then there were the unlucky folks whose partners were called in by the doctors before them so they could receive the bad or good news first. They sat, twisting the hems of their shirts or bowing their head so no one could see their faces. There was a little blond boy playing with toy soldiers on the ground. He looked about eight years old. Gilbert frowned to himself—was the boy here to wait for his family or because he was also sick?

Gilbert quietly slipped out of his chair and crawled towards the little boy. The little boy paused in his passionate game of toy war and gazed up at Gilbert with bright blue eyes. He blinked confusedly at the teenager before offering a small smile.

"Hey there, little soldier," Gilbert said, sitting beside the boy. "What are you playing?"

The boy lifted up the toy soldiers to Gilbert's face. "My army is at war against the evil wizards that are taking over my empire!" he said excitedly.

"Awesome," Gilbert commented. "Where are the wizards?"

"They're invisible," the boy said regretfully, "which makes them a lot harder to fight. But don't worry; my soldiers are very strong and trained to fight bad invisible sorcerers."

"That's good," Gilbert said, nodding. "And are you the great commander of the troops?"

"Uh huh!" the boy said, beaming. "I'm General Luther, defender of the Divine Empire and conqueror of the evil invisible monsters!"

Gilbert saluted stiffly. "First Class Private Gilbert Beilschmidt reporting, sir!"

"We must defeat the evil invisible wizards together, Private Beilschmidt!" declared Luther, handing Gilbert a handful of green plastic soldiers. "Follow me! But you mustn't let them see you!" At that, Luther dropped to the ground and army-crawled under the chairs. Gilbert slipped under the chairs, following Luther wriggle his way through the small tunnel of chair legs. Out of the corner of his eyes, Gilbert could see Ludwig raising an eyebrow at Gilbert before burying his face into a National Geographic magazine.

"We won't lose, will we, Private Beilschmidt?" Luther asked as he pulled himself out from under the chairs.

"Of course not!" Gilbert proclaimed before accidentally hitting his head on the top of the chair. "This is the awesome and unbeatable army of the Divine Empire! We never lose! Victory will be ours!"

Luther's face broke into a wide grin. He pressed his back against the wall like a secret agent, his hands gripping on many plastic soldiers.

"Watch out," Luther said in a low voice. "The invisible wizards have spies all around. They might look normal, but they are actually evil."

"Scary," Gilbert said in a horrorstruck whisper. "But don't worry. I have friends on the other side that told us who's a spy and who is not."

"Really?" gasped Luther. "Who's a spy?"

Gilbert narrowed his eyes and scanned the room. Luther stared at Gilbert in awe as Gilbert scratched his chin contemplatively. He finally pointed straight at Ludwig.

"There's the spy!" Gilbert announced. "But you've got to take him down secretly and quietly because he's a really tough soldier!"

Ludwig peered over the top of his magazine and frowned at Gilbert. Gilbert gave a crooked smile and winked at Ludwig before returning to an anxious countenance.

"How do we take him down?" Luther asked fearfully.

"Follow my lead." Gilbert crouched low and crawled around the perimeter of the room. Luther quickly followed, staying close to the ground and keeping a wary eye on Ludwig. The other patients in the waiting room watched the two boys with lightheartedness, stifling amused chuckles.

Gilbert quietly crawled on the chair next to Ludwig, holding up a toy soldier armed with a rifle. Before Ludwig could react, Gilbert jabbed the spindly rifle barrel at Ludwig's temple.

"All right, you evil invisible wizard spy!" Gilbert said triumphantly. "You've been caught red-handed!"

Ludwig gave a sidelong glance at the toy soldier. The look on his face clearly stated, 'You're not serious, are you?'

Luther clambered onto the chair opposite of Gilbert. "You better spill your secrets, mister!"

"What secrets?" Ludwig asked. "Ouch." Gilbert shoved the rifle harder into the side of Ludwig's head.

"You know what we want!" Gilbert said. He turned to Luther. "Er, you tell him."

"Where is the king of the wizards hiding?" Luther demanded. "If you tell us, we'll let you join our forces and we'll spare you!"

"You'll never get it out of me alive," Ludwig declared before turning the page of his magazine.

"We're flexible! What about if we get it out of you dea—oh, you're good," Gilbert said shrewdly.

"It's either that or be prisoner!" Luther said warningly. "And we'll force-feed you sauerkraut and you'll have to clean all day!"

"That's more like a luxury for him rather than a punishment," Gilbert muttered. Ludwig smiled wryly at Gilbert.

Before Ludwig could even come close to spilling, the door swung open. All the tension in the room stiffened and made everyone freeze in their spots. A woman with blond hair stepped out with the doctor and rushed over to Luther.

"Mama!" Luther cried, hugging his mother around the waist. "What do the doctors say?"

"You'll be all right, darling," his mother murmured into his fair hair, hugging him tight. "It's not too serious. It's just a benign tumor."

"What does that mean?" Luther asked.

"We'll be able to get it out of you easily. You'll be better again," his mother assured him, stroking Luther's cheek. She looked up at Ludwig and Gilbert and smiled at them.

"Were you two keeping my son company?" she asked.

"Yup!" Gilbert said brightly. "He's a brave little soldier." Luther beamed at the compliment.

"Thank you," she said. "I hope it wasn't any trouble."

"No trouble at all! It was loads of fun!" Gilbert insisted.

Just then a nurse appeared at the door, her face frozen and unreadable. The same stone tautness fixed everyone in their position as if they caught a glimpse of Medusa in her adder glory.

"Ludwig Beilschmidt?" the nurse said. Her face barely moved when she spoke. "Would you come with me please?"

Ludwig and Gilbert exchanged glances. Ludwig gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before standing up and following the nurse out the door. Gilbert waved half-heartedly at Ludwig's retreating back. He felt his stomach churn and tore his eyes away from the door, urging himself to think of something different.

"Is he your brother?" Luther asked.

"Yeah," Gilbert said. "He's the most awesome little brother ever!"

"Is your Mom and Dad not here?" said Luther.

"Luther," his mother said sternly. "It's not polite to pry."

"Aw, it's fine," said Gilbert. "Dad's at a business meeting, so only West is able to take me."

"What about your mom?" Luther questioned.

"That's enough now, darling," said his mother.

"Can we stay for Gilbert, Mom?" Luther pleaded. "Until his brother comes back?"

"You don't have to," Gilbert said quickly. "It's all right."

"I want to play with you though!" Luther said genuinely.

"Luther, he already said it's all right," his mother said. Gilbert saw the desperate look in Luther's bright blue eyes that reminded him a lot like Ludwig's when they were younger. Gilbert smiled grimly before ruffling Luther's hair.

"Aw, you got me. Come on, let's continue our battle," Gilbert said, dropping to the ground. His head suddenly grew light for a moment but he rubbed his forehead to clear his mind.

The game continued for another ten minutes. Though Luther was cheerful and lively, Gilbert couldn't help but feel his innards churn and hurt with anxiety. It was like being brought to the guillotine and counting down the seconds before the blade dropped on his neck. He had no idea when Ludwig would burst through the doors or if the news would be good or bad. All he could do was attempt to distract himself. Sometimes it helped but every now and then he would stop in the middle of the game and suddenly remember the impending uncertainty.

Even though it was only a mere ten minutes, it felt like ten hours before the door finally opened again. Gilbert eagerly looked up at Ludwig and felt all the warm blood in his face drain away. The look on Ludwig's face made every ounce of hope shatter. Ludwig looked as if he had just fought a horrible battle and lost everything.

"Mr. Gilbert Beilschmidt? Could you please follow us?" the nurse said with the same perfectly blank expression. Gilbert hesitated before slowly standing onto his feet. Luther gazed at him with concern as Gilbert slipped out the door to the doctor's office.

"West?" Gilbert said quietly.

Ludwig kept his eyes glued to the floor. He silently gripped tightly on Gilbert's hand. Gilbert felt the lump in his throat tighten.

"Please sit down, Mr. Beilschmidt," the doctor said smoothly. Gilbert frowned at the man.

"I'm fine," Gilbert said stubbornly. "I won't be here for long, right? Just tell me and we'll be out of here."

"Gilbert," Ludwig said weakly. Gilbert stood defiantly next to the chair and crossed his arms.

"Sitting down won't make anything any better to hear," Gilbert said. "I'm going to be standing the whole time and I'm not changing my mind, so you better just spill now."

The doctor took one look at Gilbert and sighed. "All right, if you insist, Mr. Beilschmidt."

"Damn straight I do," Gilbert said loudly. The doctor lifted his eyes to Gilbert's; they were weary and seemed almost dusty, like abandoned marbles.

"Well, Gilbert," the doctor said in a calm voice. "You're not the kind who would want me to beat around the bush, so I'll just say it up front. Your case is serious. Whether or not it is terminal we are still not sure. The tests you received…it seems to us that there is something that has pervaded through your body and is weakening you slowly."

By the end of the doctor's careful and tactful explanation, Gilbert was collapsed in the chair, his head buried in his arms and his heart beating so fast as if it would never be enough.

Ludwig's arm was around Gilbert's shoulder, hugging him to his chest. Gilbert had no strength or desire to wriggle out of Ludwig's embrace.

"It'll be okay, Bruder," Ludwig whispered. Gilbert shuddered and swallowed.

"Of course it will," Gilbert said in a calm voice. "I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt. Nothing can conquer me."

Ludwig's embrace tightened, nearly crushing Gilbert. Gilbert didn't care. He felt no pain. He felt nothing.

The two brothers didn't know how long they stayed in the doctor's office, letting the news ooze into them like a snake's poison. Words could've been said, conversations exchanged, but all Gilbert could remember was pushing open the wooden door to the waiting room and dragging himself in.

Luther, true to his word, had stayed long enough to bid Gilbert goodbye. When Gilbert returned, Luther launched himself onto the teenager, hugging him excitedly.

"How are you?" Luther asked. "Is it going to be okay?"

Gilbert hesitated before ruffling the child's hair playfully. "Of course! I'm part of the great army of the Divine Empire! Nothing can beat the Divine Empire, right?"

Luther cheered with joy and ran back to his mother. His mother looked into Gilbert's eyes and Gilbert immediately knew that she knew he was lying. Her eyes shone with sadness that forced Gilbert to look away. During all that, Luther was jabbering with glee because in his world, he only needed a surgery to put things back to normal and Gilbert was only going through a small virus.

Was it a crime to lie to a child?


Gilbert closed the door to his bedroom. The car ride back home was mostly silence. Every now and then Ludwig or Gilbert would try to add a chink to the quietness with small conversation, but they soon dissolved.

He leaned his head on the wall before sliding down to the ground. The curtains were pulled over the window and shut out any paltry sunlight trying to wheedle its way past the guards. Gilbert couldn't see very well in the dark room, only the occasion shine reflecting from his electric guitar or the countless photos plastered on the wall.

This wasn't supposed to happen to him.

Gilbert's heart panged at the small, selfish thought. He closed his eyes and tried to take deep breaths to empty his mind.

Why did it have to happen?

Gilbert slammed his fist on the carpet, gritting his teeth. This was not how he wanted his life to run. There was no way in the world would he submit to a life of whitewashed hospital rooms and needles piercing his skin to sustain health.

How was he supposed to live his life to the fullest if it was so dependent on those self-proclaimed saviors in lab coats?

No matter how much Gilbert swallowed, he couldn't rid himself of the horrible lump lodged in the middle of his throat. He was shaking and he had not realized it before. He shook his head vigorously, desperate to clear his mind. Don't be so negative, he thought. You don't know what's going to happen.

That much was true. He had absolutely no idea what was going to happen. He didn't know if he could walk out of that hospital room scot-free or if sooner or later in the near future he would have to be strapped to a hospital bed for weeks, maybe even months. There was no telling if he would need surgery or transfusions or an epitaph.

Gilbert opened his eyes again and saw the wallpaper of photographs all around his room. Francis, Antonio, and Elizaveta were smiling down at him, their eyes searing into his skin as if judging him. Gilbert felt like he was suddenly crushed by a boulder.

How in the world was he supposed to tell them?

Gilbert tore his eyes away from the walls and buried his head in his arms. He tried to picture himself staring into his best friends' faces and tell them up front that he was seriously ill and there was no certainty. At that little thought, his heart immediately twanged.

It was impossible.

He couldn't do it.

Gilbert dug his nails into his arms. His breath shook and the room spun and Gilbert knew it had nothing to do with his illness.

There was no way in hell was he going to shatter the glass. This was their senior year. They were supposed to be living every day to the fullest and only stress about college applications and entrance essays, not diseases.

He couldn't tell them.

Gilbert would feed them all the white lies they asked for, but he couldn't tell them the truth.

He couldn't bring himself to break the news to them. He had enough trouble trying to accept it himself. How was he supposed to force them to know the truth?

You can't keep it secret.

Gilbert glared at his reflection in the mirror, as if it was the one speaking to him. His reflection was a merely a silhouette in the blue room—a faceless, expressionless shadow.

What did the reflection know about his life?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

It was probably living in an alternate dimension, where it was free from any fear and had the perfect life. It was grinning down at Gilbert right now and laughing at him, laughing at the entropy and pain of his world and relishing its blessedness. It was clean, it was pure, it wasn't chained down with worries or guilt.

At the mere sight of his own reflection, Gilbert felt a burning anger inside of him. Why was he stuck in this chaotic world? What made his reflection any worthier of a perfect life? Gilbert's fist itched to drive itself into the glass and shatter the barrier. He wanted to take hold of his smirking reflection and drag it into his hell and force it to deal with the moaning and gnashing of teeth of this reality. He would stomp his foot onto the reflection's head and grind its face into the bloody dirt and scream at it, hurl words into its ear. "This is the world you've been laughing at. Is it funny now? Are you still laughing? LOOK AT ME!"

Gilbert took a deep breath of cold air jolted back into the real world. The mirror was still intact and flawless as ever. The Gilbert in the mirror stared confusedly back at him. There was no alternate universe he could escape to.

Gilbert slumped down to the ground, pressing the heels of his hands onto his eyes. The reflection did not say it was impossible to keep a secret—it was his mind. He knew inside that someday they will find out. How was he supposed to hide his fatigue, his constant visits to the hospital, his absence?

They're your best friends, he thought tiredly. You can say anything to them. You never hide things from them.

So why was he so afraid?

Gilbert glimpsed back at the mirror on the wall. His reflection nervously gazed back at him, equal in his anxiety and apprehension.

Why?

Gilbert raised his head slightly so that he faced his glassy twin.

Why not?

Gilbert slowly rose to his feet. His legs were shaking slightly and he could barely stand straight, but he willed himself to try.

There was no telling what would happen next.

Was that it?

There was no guarantee of anything. He couldn't give them hope or give them the dead truth. He couldn't tell them whether or not he would pull out of this or fall into a relapse.

He didn't want to make them afraid.

Why would you think that?

Gilbert tentatively crept closer to the mirror. His face was extremely pale and there was something deeper in those red eyes. Like ashes.

Are you afraid?

Gilbert swallowed and placed his hand flat on the smooth mirror. He could see the photos on the walls in the mirror. Little windows covering every inch of the dark blue wall. Could he open them and slip inside?

"I am not afraid."

His voice was quiet but strong. It did not quaver or crack in the ends. It was a thin, smooth stream of steel.

"I am not afraid."

The reflection's lips mouthed the same words and Gilbert could feel strength inside of him. Fear was a lie. It will not hold him down. Many things chained him to the ground, but fear will not be one of them.

"I am not afraid."

His voice grew more passionate. He placed the other hand onto the mirror.

"I am not afraid."

Peace.

Gilbert stood staring into the mirror, his hands smudging the glass. They slowly clenched into fists as he stared defiantly at the looking-glass.

Tell them the truth.

Gilbert closed his eyes.

I know.

There was nothing to fear. There will be no heartbreak. He will go up to them, tell them the truth, and that will be that. No tears, no dread, no doubt, because everything will be all right. Just a little break from ritual and then things will straighten themselves out over time.

Gilbert repeated this over and over in his head as he sank to his knees, clutching a handful of the dark blue carpet on the ground and fighting to breathe.

There was nothing to fear.

Nothing to fear.

Fear.

Made a reference to Holy Roman Empire in here…I'm not even going to ask for you guys to look for it. I think it's pretty obvious.

Just to let you guys know, I usually update once a week on Thursday. I am considering updating twice a week. What do you guys think?

Pros—You'll get less waiting time in between chapters.

Cons—The story will end faster (Twice a week would probably last about two months. Once a week would be about three months)

Please tell me what you want.

The chapter title was taken from Lewis Carroll.