Ludwig and Kiku sat in comfortable silence eating their lunch. Kiku was almost always silent, one of Ludwig's favourite of the Japanese boy's traits. Ludwig would have liked to believe that the reason for his silence was that he too was calm and collected most of the time, but the truth was that there was a lot on his mind.

Saying he was disappointed with the choice of fundraiser was an understatement. Being the Social Commissioner, it was expected of him to be as involved in the events he was organizing as possible, and not signing up to play in the hockey tournament would make him appear intimidated, which unfortunately, was exactly what he was. Truth be told, Ludwig was quite fond of the sport. He wasn't bad, either, better than most of the students in the school, but he wasn't better than Ivan or Alfred, two of the people in the school he would least like to lose to (though preferably, he'd like to lose to no one at all). The nagging worry about the upcoming tournament was torturing his mind and depriving him of sleep. How he wished for Feliciano's easy going attitude, at least with regards to this stupid game.

This last thought sent his mind on a tangent, worrying about the second burden of his uneasy mind: the homecoming dance. Since the semester started Feliciano had been babbling on about this foolish dance and what fun it was going to be. To be honest, the whole dance concept seemed foolish to Ludwig. Spending money to dress up and stand around uncomfortably seemed a waste of time and before the semester began Ludwig had decided he wanted no part of it. And then he saw how excited Feliciano was. . .

Fine, he wanted to ask him to the dance, but he just couldn't. Every time an opportunity arose, he reminded himself how weak it was to show affection . . . and how embarrassing rejection would be. To be rejected would be to lose something much greater than a hockey game.

"Have you asked Feliciano to the dance yet?" Kiku suddenly asked, interrupting the silence.

Ludwig looked up in utter shock. His blue eyes grew to the size of saucers and his jaw fell open. "Uh-of course not," Ludwig replied hastily. "Why would you ask that? I have no interest in taking Feliciano to the dance."

Kiku looked at him for a long minute. He appeared to be thinking very hard about something. Did he know how Ludwig felt? How could he? Ludwig had contained his feeling incredibly well.

"My mistake," Kiku finally replied, dropping his gaze.

Ludwig breathed a silent sigh of relief. What compelled his friend to ask such a thing? Kiku: the boy who rarely talked about his own feelings, let alone others'. Ludwig opened his mouth to ask why Kiku would ask such a question, but the Japanese boy spoke first.

"I have to go," Kiku said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin and standing up. "Alfred has asked me to help him devise a plan to avoid Ivan."

"Because of the hockey tournament?" Ludwig asked perplexed. It wasn't like Alfred to be afraid of competition.

Kiku looked like he was mulling over his words carefully. "For more . . . personal reasons," he finally answered.

Kiku packed up the remainder of his lunch and left, leaving Ludwig in silence with his troubling thoughts once more.

"Ludwig!" Someone yelled from behind him. He turned around to see Feliciano barrelling towards him, a speed he usually reserved for being first in line for food or avoiding a pummelling in dodge ball. The dark haired boy threw himself down in the seat across from Ludwig, panting and sweaty.

"Look!" He said excitedly, out of breath. Feliciano held up a poster advertising the homecoming dance.

"Yes. Very good," Ludwig replied, quickly avoiding the topic. "Feliciano, we need a plan of attack for the upcoming hockey tournament."

"Tickets go on sale tomorrow," Feliciano grinned, reading the poster and completely ignoring Ludwig. Why was he so transfixed with this dance?

"Feliciano, you made that poster." Ludwig said slowly through clenched teeth.

"I know! Isn't it exciting!?" The Italian boy asked, looking up with eyes full of excitement and joy. Looking at him made Ludwig's heart leap in a way he found less than pleasant. "I hope I get a ticket. . ." Feliciano added dreamily.

"We are selling the tickets!" Ludwig yelled, finally losing his patience with his best friend. "Who cares about a stupid dance!? There are real things to worry about, but once again, I have to do all the planning alone."

Feliciano's smile had disappeared, his excitement gone. Ludwig wanted to jump up, run over and hug him. To let him be excited and happy and . . . Feliciano. Instead, he sat there uncomfortably looking at his lap, ashamed.

"Are you mad at me, Ludwig?" Feliciano asked softly, tears threatening in his voice.

Ludwig sighed, still unable to make eye contact.

"Just put the poster back up," he said gruffly before picking up his bag and leaving.

When Ludwig got home, Gilbert was already in the kitchen, feeding his bird. Dear Lord, that bird. Not only did his brother have more compassion and love for that stupid chicken than for Ludwig himself, but its usefulness remained a mystery to the younger of the two. As far as Ludwig could tell all he was good for was chirping and shitting all over the house.

Ludwig went to the fridge and pulled out some left over wurst for himself, only to find peck marks in it.

"Damn it, Gilbert," Ludwig yelled, already on edge.

Gilbert's head snapped up. "What's up your ass?" the Albino asked with a hard glare.

"Why is the damn bird even eating our food?" Ludwig asked, throwing the ruined food in the trash.

"Because Gildbird was hungry and no one was eating it," Gilbert scowled and walked over to the fridge. He pulled out two beers and handed one to his younger brother. "Have you talked to Roderich lately?"

"Not excessively," Ludwig grunted, still tense.

Gilbert nodded thoughtfully, then refocused his eyes on Ludwig. "So what's wrong?"

Ludwig sighed. His brother wasn't the most sympathetic person in the world, but he knew Ludwig better than anyone else, so if he was going to talk to anyone about his feelings, it should probably be Gilbert.

"Have you heard about the hockey tournament?" He asked, staring hard at his beer.

"Yeah. Elizabeta wanted to play," Gilbert nodded, taking a swig from his bottle.

"Girls shouldn't play hockey," Ludwig said, shaking his head.

"That's what I said," Gilbert agreed smiling.

The brothers sat in silence for a few minutes. It wasn't the comfortable kind of silence that Ludwig had felt with Kiku earlier and he silently willed his brother to speak. When Gilbert, most ironically, did not chime in with any more offensive, derogatory, racist, sexist, or rude comments, Ludwig finally took the initiative.

"I'm playing."

Gilbert almost blew beer out of his nose laughing. He took a moment to regain himself before he replied. "You're not even good at hockey!" He laughed condescendingly.

"I'm better than you," Ludwig muttered, his anger flaring up again.

"In what universe are you better at anything than me?" Gilbert smiled contemptuously.

Ludwig rolled his eyes, ignoring the comment and pressing forward with his real worries.

"Ivan's playing."

Gilbert paused, his beer pressed against his lips. His blood red eyes widened and then narrowed. He lowered his beer and looked at his baby brother with seriousness Ludwig had never seen him wear before.

"Kick his ass," he said meaningfully.

"Have you seen him play? I can't just-"

"Of course you can," Gilbert said, setting his beer down and grasping his brother's shoulders. "You're my brother. That means you have my awesome blood. And you can beat Ivan."

Ludwig felt a twinge of emotion in his chest. It was the first time in his memory Gilbert had shown anything close to pride towards him. Then again, Gilbert really hated Ivan. . .

"So is that why you flipped out?" Gilbert asked, picking up his beer and having another gulp.

Ludwig began to nod then paused. If he was going to let his guard down with Gilbert, he may as well just lay all his cards out on the table.

"What do you think about the homecoming dance?"

"Stupid," Gilbert replied without even thinking.

Ludwig nodded, lowering his eyes to his drink. He knew it. His friends, his brother, they would think him weak if he showed Feliciano his true feelings and asked him to the dance.

"But your Italian friend doesn't think it's stupid," Gilbert said slowly, his serious face returning again.

Ludwig's head shot up. "So?" He asked calmly, though fighting a blush.

Gilbert sighed, exasperated. "Listen West, I have about ten seconds more of sincerity so pay attention. You should ask the Italian to homecoming or you will regret it."

Ludwig lost the battle against the blush. "I don't want to-"

"Yeah, yeah," Gilbert responded, waving away the comment with his beer free hand. "All I'm saying is, don't let the moment pass by if you do. Seeing someone you care about with someone else is worse than the moment of embarrassment when you ask them out." Gilbert got a far off look, as if he was deep in thought.

Ludwig felt uncomfortable. He hadn't talked like this with his older brother since he was young. He didn't like the feeling of turning to Gilbert for advice, or of being vulnerable to one of Gilbert's typical slurs at any moment.

"Based on what?" Ludwig asked, expecting a scowl. Instead Gilbert was silent for a moment longer before looking back at his brother.

"What do you think of Eliza?" He finally asked.

Ludwig paused, thinking. He had always liked Eliza. She was smart and fun. She wasn't afraid to do things that other girls were and he respected her for that. She had always treated him like he was old enough to hang out with her and Gilbert when she was around. But more than the games she played, more than the treats she brought, more than anything, Ludwig liked how Gilbert was around her. He liked how she made Gilbert smile. Not the sarcastic, sadistic smile he wore the majority of the time, but a happy smile, one that only ever came out when Eliza was around.

Ludwig contemplated expressing his train of thought to Gilbert, but decided he had extended his limit on emotions enough for one day. "I like her enough," he shrugged.

Gilbert nodded, sipping his beer thoughtfully.

Suddenly Ludwig's thoughts shifted from his own problems onto his brother. "Wait," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Are you thinking of asking Eliza-"

Gilbert stood.

"Ask the pasta eater." He ordered, before leaving the room, beer in his hand and Gilbird on his shoulder.

Gilbert opened and closed his phone multiple times, thinking. What was the worst that could happen? He had done much braver things than make a phone call. And it was Feliciano! Why was he so terrified of his cowardly, nonthreatening friend? He wasn't. He had no reason to be. He'd just pick up the phone and-

His phone suddenly started ringing, giving him a start. He stared at it, shaken out of his thoughts. He flipped it open to answer, only to be greeted by a panicked voice.

"Ludwig! Ludwig! I need your help!" Feliciano said in his dramatic, terrified voice.

Ludwig rolled his eyes, but smiled. He was glad Feliciano had forgiven him. He was glad Feliciano needed him.

"What is it now?" He asked with a forced groan.

"I need your help deciding what to wear to the dance!"

Ludwig's heart skipped a beat. "Th-the dance?" He asked slowly.

"Yes! The homecoming dance. You're going right? Oh, please tell me you're going! I know you were upset earlier, but you have to go!"

Ludwig smiled. It was now or never. "Yes, I'm going. Did you want to-"

"Oh, thank God! Cause I don't know what I'm going to say to Bella all night! She asked me today and- . . . Ludwig? . . . Ludwig?"