The sun was starting to set behind the trees, casting long shadows over their little home, secluded away from the main road and the other people of the town. It was fall and the leaves were changing colours, alight in brilliant orange, yellow and red as they died and fell from the trees. Sitting at the round dinner table, eating alone, Ludwig looked out the window to the elderly man who stood alert on the doorstep, walking stick in hand and the old pudgy dog laying by his feet, head down on its paws as it bathed in a dimming ray of light. It would have been upsetting for the four-year-old as well if it wasn't such a regular thing. Once again it was dinner time. Once again Gilbert wasn't home after school. Once again, and many times to come, he'd be alone.

The little greyhound suddenly lifted its head, floppy ears perked forward as much as they could as a figure came trudging down the unpaved path. The old man's tense posture relaxed visibly as he seemed to let out a breath he had been holding the past three hours waiting for the older boy to return home. Passive blue eyes flicked to his older brother, his features still nondescript as he half-limped down the road, head hanging as he stared towards the ground. It was peaceful when Gilbert was gone, but all Grandfather talked about was Gilbert.

Gilbert. Gilbert. Gilbert.

The frightening white demon with red eyes who screamed and thrashed, his body distorting into weird shapes when his temper flared. With him came the sounds of crashing glass and angry shouts. Drinking orange juice from his straw, the four-year-old watched as the old man went out and met him in front of the house. Watched as no words were spoken between them as he wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders, pulling him close in an embrace. Ludwig never knew what that felt like. His parents died a long time ago, he didn't even remember their faces. All his life had surrounded his brother and his scary temper. His kind and understanding grandfather who had his hands full with Gilbert. He looked back out at the two, still unable to see his brother behind the big back of the old man.

He could throw the cup on the ground, scream and kick and make messes. He could cry and run away. He could do what Gilbert did too. Instead, he took the dishes, hopping up on his tip toes to put them in the sink before leaving to his room, ignoring the bitter jealousy churning in his stomach.

"My brother would be twenty-five."

Gilbert felt frozen as those words lingered between them. It was true he probably looked younger than he should, it had been a few years already since he had been promoted to a Guardian. But it really wasn't the words Ludwig said that stopped him, but the sheer animosity that glinted through those blue eyes. It was so strong he could feel it in the air, Ludwig most likely not realising that he had extended his wavelengths out in a threatening manner, like a cobra spreads its hood before a strike. It was cold, causing goosebumps to form down the back of his neck, shock keeping him in place.

His tongue flicked out almost nervously, moistening his lips before the smile was renewed with vigour, one hand reaching behind his head as he held the other up in surrender, "Ah, my mistake then. I mistook you for someone else. Pardon me then."

The blonde didn't really relax, they kept their staring match a few moments longer before Ludwig turned away, picking up a book from the table he stood beside and taking one step towards him. Wordlessly, the albino stepped aside, dropping his arms, his eyes staring at the floor as he sighed under his breath. The younger boy didn't even pause as he went down the stairs, looking straight ahead and out the door.

"That kid, seriously," the young man grumbled to himself, his smile timid, meant for for himself than anyone else. Rolling his shoulders he caught a glimpse of a blonde sprig of hair peeking over a stack of books. "Oi! I see you Alfred, and you still aren't getting out of class. For this detour, you're giving me an extra two minutes for every one you've wasted playing this little game."

"Hey!" the American exploded out from behind the stack, eyes wide, "That's not fair!"

"Life ain't fair, now move it," Gilbert called back with no sympathy, leaning against the rail with his arms folded.

"I suppose I deserve this."

Ludwig's arms swayed angrily by his sides as he marched down the paved road, knuckles turning pale as he gripped the binding of the book in one hand, glaring at the orange and red stones. What had he been expecting anyway, denying his brother like that. There was no way it couldn't be Gilbert, and Gilbert knew it was him. Where had it gone wrong? Drawing attention to himself by standing? If he had stayed sitting, or even pretended to look at another bookshelf, he probably would have been totally ignored. Or was it when he clammed up? Should he have acknowledged Gilbert? What if he had? What would he have said?

Let's talk later?

A bitter smile contorted his features, yeah, talk. They had never talked as children, truth be told, they were brothers by blood alone. Other than a shared last name, nothing bonded the two together. What good would talking be? Would it change anything? Would it completely negate the fact that Ludwig never knew what it was like to have a family while Gilbert did? Would it make him any less jealous!?

"Oh no!"

"Look out!"

A ball lunged towards the blonde, shocking him out of his thoughts. The book fell, clattering to the ground as the German stumbled a few steps back, fighting to keep balance, but ultimately tangling in his own long legs, falling back. A small girl ran after it, sparing a short glance at the dazed teen with almost haughty bronze eyes alight like small flames in the brilliant glare of the setting sun. Even with him sitting, Ludwig easily reached eye-level to the child, but she tilted her head back and looked down her nose at him, the curly puff of a side-pony as she did so.

"Hey mister," she sniffed, demanding his attention despite already having it, the orange ball she had been chasing now in her pudgy hands. "You're a new Meister, aren't ya?"

Ludwig stared almost dumbly, not sure why such a small child was at a school like this. She couldn't be any older than seven and spoke with a slight speech impediment, despite acting older than her age. She wore red shorts and a plain tank top, mirroring the female uniform colours. There was no way she was actually attending classes though, was there?

Despite not getting a response, the child continued, looking over to where she had come, "Well, then ya probably don't know, but you're really botherin' everyone."

Children stood huddled together watching the two of them, some dressed in full uniform, others in similar clothes to the girl, but the boys wore blue shorts instead of red. All of them were quite young, though not as small as the spunky brunette. The oldest of them was ten, perhaps eleven, and several pairs of wary eyes watched him closely, daring him to say or do something wrong. Yes, they kept their distance, but it wasn't in fear.

"Sorry," he mumbled, slowly getting to his feet, dusting off the seat of his pants as he did so. Even though he towered over the little girl, she watched his gaze, craning her neck in a way that must have been uncomfortable.

"'Ts alright, but your soul waves are really strong and they are heavy and make it hard to breathe. Whatever bad things you were thinking about, you can forget those things here, Mister. Nothing bad can happen here unless you let it. That's what Teacher says."

Honestly, the teen couldn't tell if he was getting encouragement or a lecture, but either way, it was amusing. A small smile softened his face, "I'm sorry for concerning you and your friends. I'll try to keep my 'soul waves' to myself."

"You do that, okay mister?" she nodded sharply, starting back towards the group of children, "And don't forget your book, 'kay mister?"

Ludwig raised his hand in acknowledgement, though she turned her back to him. Not sure if she saw or not, she had apparently lost interest in him, and the other children had already forgotten his presence, returning to their game. He had seen children like that before, guarded and distrusting. After their grandfather had died, Ludwig had stayed several months in an orphanage. The children there all had their groups like that, looking at outsiders with that same wariness.

Finally looking away, sighing, he reached down to pick up the book, only to slam his forehead against something hard. Choking on a cry of pain, the blonde shot backwards, covering the wound out of instinct as he tried to find what he had hit. Crouched down, holding the back of their head with two hands was a brunette around his age, though smaller and more slight, dressed in the school uniform, the book clattering back to the stones beside him.

"Veh," the brunette groaned, glancing up at Ludwig with a cringe, one amber eye glossy with tears as the other screwed shut. As Ludwig let out a slow hiss, the other blushed darkly, "Veh! I'm sorry! So sorry! I was picking up the book for you, at least, I thought it was your book. I really wasn't trying to steal it! Oooh …. ow." The explanation tapered off to soft murmurs and whines of pain.

Tsking, Ludwig took a quick glance at his hand, not expecting to see anything, but more of a habit to make sure it really was just a surface wound before rubbing the sore spot again. Chances are it wouldn't even bruise, but the other teen seemed not to be taking it as well. "I didn't think you were stealing it. It isn't even …. Never mind, here." He reached out a hand to the sniffling brunette, obviously one with a low pain tolerance. "When did you get here anyway?"

Bronze eyes looked up timidly, still bright and glossy with prickly tears as he looked between the blonde and the outstretched hand. "Veh … I'm not quite sure myself." Ludwig wasn't sure if the other boy was stalling or not, either way, standing awkwardly with his hand out was becoming irritating. He opened his mouth to say something when he felt a warm hand slip into his. A soothing wave washed over him, surprising the blonde to silence, a foreign sensation coming over him. Something like familiarity, but intimate and relaxing.

It was only on reflex that he even bothered pulling the other student to his feet, and the moment he let go, the feeling began to fade. Ludwig caught himself staring at his hand, not quite knowing what that was, or why it happened, but one glance up to the brunette assured him that it wasn't only in his head.

"What was that?"

"I don't know," the other teen murmured, blinking owlishly at his own fingers, flexing them into a loose fist before spreading them out again, "but that weird feeling is going away."

"Huh?"

"Either you belt up or go to the infirmary!" Arthur snapped, forcing the icepack back on Alfred's bruised shoulder as the younger boy mewled in discomfort. "You knew what the bloody hell you were getting into when you took the class, Beilschmidt isn't known as the White Demon for nothing."

"You don't get it Arthur, he was brutal today! You have no idea! It was like he was seriously angry at something and just taking it out on me-eeek! That hurts! Ow! Ow! Ow! Stop!"

Arthur sneered at the other boy's cries, but letting up on the pressure slightly, at least to shut the fifteen-year-old toddler up. Lifting the home-made ice pack, he appraised the markings, admiring the deep shade of purple and dull red flecks scattered throughout the bruise. It was rather nasty, and while Gilbert's lessons were notoriously rough, he hadn't seen his house mate return so beaten before. "It isn't in an instructor's best interest to torment their students, though perhaps you are the exception."

"Har-har. No, really. Something went down in the library before he dragged me off to class. I tried hiding in there behind some books and there was this blonde guy there who caw me. He wasn't wearing a uniform, so I think he was new. But Gilbert saw him and was, like, super excited to see him, but that guy just totally brushed him off. But I couldn't really hear what he said."

"And we all know how good you are at reading the atmosphere," Arthur rolled his eyes, his mouth turned down in an unamused frown as he lifted the ice pack to give some relief to the bruise.

"You didn't even need to read the atmosphere with that guy," Alfred gushed, looking over his shoulder at the Englishman, "he gave off this seriously ominous aura that just screamed 'back off'. And Gilbert totally did. Like, he just stepped to the side and let the guy go, but after that he was really agitated. He threatened me with extra time! I would have died!"

Arthur glanced over at the younger teen, gauging his sincerity on the story before looking back to the bare back. Alfred's uniform shirt hung off the back of his chair as Arthur tended to the minor scrapes and bruises the bespectacled boy had acquired, mainly focused around his arms and shoulders. "But it isn't like he beat on you. Why were you being so reckless. You could seriously hurt yourself if you go to fast."

Alfred smiled timidly, rubbing the tip of his nose. "Ah-hah. Yeah, that. It's just … he looked pretty beaten down. I thought maybe trying extra hard could cheer him up."

Arthur's expression softened, sighing through his nose. Perhaps he didn't really know what transpired, but as usual, Alfred tried taking command of a situation he really should have kept out of. Whatever situation going on between Instructor Beilschmidt and some new student was really no one else's concern, but apparently the child had always been like this. He had his heart in the right place though.

"Ow! Why did you hit me!" Alfred shouted, grabbing the back of his head more out of shock than pain, Arthur's hands already back to fiddling in the first aide box. If he hadn't known better, Alfred wouldn't have even known that it was the Englishman who swat him.

"For exaggerating. Now hold still so I can bandage you up."

Turning away, the younger boy sulked, shoulders hunching over. Even despite his best efforts, Gilbert wasn't his usual self. He still drilled mercilessly, shouting at and scolding his student when he felt Alfred wasn't trying hard enough or, ironically, too hard. The albino had even let him go early, despite his antics after orientation. No matter what he did, it just wasn't enough. It was a terrible feeling.

"This place is really pretty, I wish you had been able to come. Even though here it is warm and the sun is very bright, and the sky is so clear you can even see all these stars; I still miss home. Here it has been only a day, and already I miss Sofia and her good food, and going outside with Natalya in the snow."

Ivan sat on the top step, overlooking the dock he had just climbed that morning. It really had only been one day, but after finding his dorm and making it as homey as he could, then spending the whole rest of the day exploring the unpaved paths of the island. With it being such a small island and having been raised in the middle of the Northern Forests where nobody lived and no paths marked the way, he hadn't really believed it possible for anyone to truly get lost, but a strange power coursed through those woods. He found himself turned around a few times and even in an entirely different place than he first expected. He remembered feeling something similar in the woods near his home, his older sister having told him to stay away from such places, but these were just a little different. The ones at home had felt like waves of heat, beating into him when he got too near. These felt cool and fluid, like the water lapping at the planks; but just like the ones in the Northern Forests, he couldn't walk through them.

"Even here, I feel a little rejected," he smiled shyly, looking up at the large moon that hovered over the black water, "I thought, perhaps, I would find a place to fit in here. But it seems I still don't quite belong."

The stars twinkled in response, entirely oblivious to his despair. Why would anything so elegant bother itself with problems like his? Perhaps it was better that way.

"Homesick?" A voice startled the Russian from behind.

Looking back, an upside-down boy stood a short distance back, his hands stuffed into the pockets of a red and white sports sweatshirt. His hair was quite long, chin-length and wavy with a long stray curl escaping the mane. Despite his gentle voice, the eyes behind the square rims were cold and disinterested. A chill swept down Ivan's button-down shirt as their gazes met, and he was certain it had nothing to do with the cool ocean breeze blowing in waves of mist.

Turning so as not to crane his neck as much, Ivan smiled sheepishly, "Apologies. I thought I was alone, otherwise I would not have spoken such embarrassing things."

"It's fine, I should apologize for eavesdropping, but," the cold eyes dropped down to shifting sneakers that scuffed the cobblestone, "I guess I wanted to try and make you feel better. But that isn't really my thing. I just felt ... Never mind that. How about we just pretend I didn't say anything. Sorry."

"Ah! Wait, please." Ivan turned more to face the pale blonde before he disappeared in the dark and mist. "I am Ivan. Braginsky. Please, stay."

Having only half-turned before being called back, the smaller teen with the hunched shoulders seemed to contemplate those words before signing softly. Ivan worried if he was being an annoyance, he never had met anyone outside of family before boarding the ship to attend the academy. Even still, he turned back to him with a small smile, those violet irises still distant but not so hard. "I'm Matthew Williams and, uhm, when you said that, about feeling rejected. I just thought, maybe, you should know that, you know, you're not alone. I mean, I know how you feel." As he spoke, his voice got quieter, softer, lower until it was barely audible muttering, but the Russian still made it out, though barely. Still, it brought a smile to his face.

"Thank you."

A/N: So updates have become monthly. I am terribly sorry, but the weekly was just too stressful. I hope you can still put up with me, so far I have been able to put out at least one chapter a month, two if you count Crimson. Thank you all for your support. I hope this chapter is a decent addition.