Sometimes you can't explain what you see in a person. It's just the way they take you to a place where no one else can.
— Unknown
Ludwig woke up to warmth and cottony texture. He was groggy from sleep, but he already realised fully what happened last night. He opened his blue eyes to sunlit ceiling. The ceiling was tall and beautiful, contrast to the miserable bunk-bed ceiling he used to see back then. The window's curtain perhaps only closed partially or even not at all, because the room was bathed with light and warmth from the sun. Ludwig blinked slowly.
Even the colour of the sunlight was different in Italy.
It seemed to have more colour, warmer colours, than the one in Germany.
Ludwig was used to wake up early. Back in the hostel, wake up early means he had early access to the facility. But here, in this remote party of Northern Italy, he didn't have to worry whether he can use the shower alone. This place had plenty of bedrooms. Judging from the distance between door to door, almost every bedroom was identical with the one Ludwig used, meaning there was bathroom in each one. And there were only two people in the whole mansion.
When did Ludwig start to get so lucky?
The German sighed, enjoying the comfort he hadn't feel in such a long time; the sound of birds chirping outside, wind rustling the leaves, the high-quality bed and fabric he slept on, and the warm smell of sun in the air. The soap-like smell was slowly fading, but the paint smell stayed there. The smell reminded Ludwig of the engineer laboratory he used back at the university. It reminded him on the last stage of finishing a certain machine; coating and painting. It calmed him. It made him felt like he had accomplished something.
"Ve…"
Ludwig almost forgot that Feliciano was sleeping next to him—that the blond had spend a whole night sleeping beside his new boss. 'Beside' might be a far stretch, since Feliciano's arms were still on him. Ludwig couldn't help but to feel like he was some kind of large, huggable pillow.
Though he was sure he was more than comfortable that he wondered how Feliciano stayed in the same position the whole night. Ludwig was muscular. Muscle is hard, not soft. He understood when certain male liked to sleep against their much soft female partner, but Ludwig knew very much he wasn't soft—at least not soft enough to be hugged comfortably.
Still…
Staring down at the sleeping auburn-haired man, Ludwig couldn't help but to think that Feliciano was too trusting. What if the model Antonio brought to the Italian was secretly a serial murderer or simply a person with bad intention? When Ludwig was thinking on how to scold his new employer without being too harsh and also effective at the same time, Feliciano moved in his sleep.
Ludwig could swear his heart was about to jump outside his chest.
The move wasn't sudden or violent at all. It was actually very, very gentle, much like Feliciano Vargas himself. The painter mumbled another, "Ve…" as he nuzzled against Ludwig, the sound of his breathing sounded more audible than before that Ludwig couldn't ignore it anymore.
After sometime being embarrassed for possibly no reason, Ludwig started to enjoy how Feliciano wrapped against him. He never had anyone hugging him constantly as they sleep. It was as if Feliciano found sleeping against Ludwig as comfortable.
Ludwig? Comfortable?
Those two words were as far as his brother's name and word "lame".
Knowing that his cheeks no longer felt frustratingly hot, Ludwig dared to take another peek to Feliciano. He felt his heart soared by the sight of the Italian's smiling on his sleep.
Ludwig was now safe. He had place to stay. He had job. He could look forward to his next meal. He had bedroom and bathroom just for himself. He could enjoy minutes of this morning knowing he was in good hands for sometime.
Feliciano Vargas was truly an angel.
When he slept, he looked even more like angel. Unconsciously, Ludwig started to analyse the sleeping man. Feliciano's hair looked more red than brown under the sunlight. Ludwig didn't know what to think about the strange curl the painter had, though. His skin was visibly in darker shade than Ludwig. It looked like Feliciano spent a good amount of time under warm Italian sun. Perhaps he liked to paint outside as well, unlike Ludwig who spent the majority of his time indoor, with machine and books. Ludwig inched closer as he paid close attention to Feliciano's face. His eyelashes were in the same shade of red under the sunlight and they were quite long. The painter's body curled in a position that reminded Ludwig of a cat somehow. Like a cat too, his sleep seemed so peaceful.
Ludwig never woke up to someone's arms wrapped around him. He never knew that it felt really nice.
The morning was beautiful, now that the rain ended and sky was cleared from clouds.
But Feliciano was more beautiful than the morning, for the lack of more appropriate word in English.
Ludwig took his sweet time to watch the smaller man asleep against him. Feliciano's face was just as fascinating as his painting, Ludwig thought, though perhaps not everyone agreed on this. Ludwig was so engrossed in the activity that he didn't hear footsteps on the hall outside. Not when the German started his series of attempt to straighten the strange curl to the side of Feliciano's head. The curl resisted, bounced back to its former state and Ludwig kept trying, slowly and gently. Feliciano's hair was incredibly soft. Ludwig wondered whether that happened because the Italian used some kind of expensive shampoo…
Ludwig only realised there was someone else when the person knocked three times on the door. The knocks wasn't mean to ask for permission to enter, because the second Ludwig opened his mouth to say something in response to the knocks, the door was already flung open.
The German was expecting a maid, though in his opinion a maid shouldn't open bedroom's door—especially the master one—before given permission. Ludwig remembered that Feliciano said that maids will come at around eight, but it was only a little before seven according to expensive-looking alarm clock in the shape of small cuckoo clock on the side-table. Whoever came, there was a high possibility that they weren't maid.
And they weren't.
"I'm so sorry, Fericiano-san, but we—"
A rather-exhausted looking East Asian took a step inside rather loudly, before realising that Feliciano wasn't the only person on the bedroom. Ludwig knew that Feliciano was full of surprises, but this was more than he prepared to see or expect in the painter's mansion. Instead of someone with cleaning attire, the person who opened the door wore some kind of dark kimono over another kimono with lighter shade of blue. His black hair was straight and cut following a certain line on forehead and side of ears, but it seemed a little messy from what Ludwig guessed as long journey. The thought was supported by a pair of tired, rather red pair of dark brown eyes—the ones now filled with shock and embarrassment. A shade of red painted the male pale cheeks.
Ludwig could also guess what was going on in the man's mind right now.
He came expecting to see Feliciano Vargas sleeping on his own bedroom, alone on his mansion. But instead, he came to a very large, muscled blond man on Feliciano's bed, with Feliciano's arms flung around the man's chest now that Ludwig was in the middle of shifting from laying to sitting. Feliciano was visibly shirtless (Ludwig didn't know how he missed that before—perhaps the Italian stripped somehow in his sleep?) while Ludwig's dark T-shirt was somehow tugged so that one of his shoulders showed. Ludwig tried to think of something appropriate to say, something far better than, 'No! You misunderstood—whatever you're thinking about!' but he couldn't muster any words.
The look on the East Asian's man face was hard to decipher. If Ludwig were to choose only two, it would be either extreme disgust or unmasked joy piled with excitement.
"M-my aporogise…" he muttered, bowing down, and awkwardly stepped back before closing the door.
The echo of closed door's sound could be heard clearly and loudly.
Ludwig still half-laying, half-sitting there, jaw hanging open, mouth unable to say anything but a noises that sounded like, "A… aaah…"
He had tons of questions to ask now, such as who the man was or why he just entered Feliciano bedroom without permission. Did that mean the man had key to front gate and door? Judging from his look alone, the black-haired male couldn't be Feliciano's family. Friend, perhaps? Best friend that Feliciano gave key to his house? What kind of best friend barging into your bedroom at seven in the morning? Not that Ludwig had best friend before... Antonio was his brother's best friend, not his. Before Ludwig attempted to make further hypotheses, he realised that above all, Feliciano Vargas had guest and the painter had to be notified.
Ludwig started to sit properly. Feliciano's arms were now around his hips, tanned arms against pale, toned stomach. Ludwig pushed his shirt down to cover his skin and hesitated for a moment on where he should touch Feliciano to wake him up. His hair? His head? His cheek? His arm? His uncovered, tanned torso?
Deciding the shoulder would the best, Ludwig started to shake the Italian gently on both shoulders, while keeping his voice no louder than above whisper but loud enough to be heard clearly by his boss.
"Feliciano? Can you wake up? I think your friend—I assume he's your friend—was here… and he might've misunderstood us…"
Ludwig knew by now that the man in kimono might think that he had walked in to Feliciano Vargas sleeping with his new, rugged blond boyfriend.
Feliciano Vargas and Ludwig Beilschmidt weren't like that at all.
Author's Note: Thank you for maryranstadler1, Seele Esser Deutsch, oO Miss Florence Oo (props for really nice and long review!), and Guest for reviewing last chapter! Also, welcome aboard for the new followers! (To GerIta ship, that is.) I know this chapter is rather short, but just think of it as recovery from lengthy previous chapter. I guess by now you already know who this new character is. I really like the dynamic between the three of them, so I simply can't wait to insert him in the story as well. Well then, until next time!
