"So then, are we friends now?" Feliciano asked, still attached to the fact that this man looked so much like Ludwig.

"I suppose. We could hang out at some point in the near future.

"Wanna meet up here tomorrow morning?" He asked, and Ludwig/Harald shrugged.

"Why not. I don't suppose it could hurt much." Yes, the blonde was aware that he was supposed to be meeting women, but it didn't really matter that much. Ludwig didn't care for marriage, thinking that it should be an option, not an obligation. Something you did when you found the one you love, not something you search for someone for. But his uncle was insatiable.

"Yay! Anyway, see you tomorrow. I've got stuff to do, and you probably have stuff too, so bye!" The young man was fairly cheerful as he picked up his things, and left the café. Ludwig cursed as he realized that his heart was still beating as if he had just finished a marathon. He had no idea why, but it was starting to bother him. Every time he looked at the boy, he would get faint snippets of his face, but couldn't pick out the background. It was frustrating him to no end.

"Ja, goodbye." If Feliciano had been listening, he would have heard the same inflection of the german affirmative that had been so familiar to him in childhood, but he wasn't as usual, and so it escaped his ears.

He went into the park, ready to finally finish his painting, and find someone to buy it. As the final strokes of his brush went over the canvas, a man walked behind him. He was wearing the same formal wear as the painter, though the young Italian had taken off his jacket and was in his undershirt and slacks so as not to get the other article of clothing dirty. He had snowy hair, and an elderly face, well taken care of, but clearly in his fifty's at least.

"That's a nice painting. My nephew has a number of paintings in the same style. Say, would you be willing to sell it to me, or is someone already waiting on it?" The man asked, raising a white eyebrow.

"No, I was actually wondering if I could find someone to buy it from me. How much would you be willing to pay?"

"Well, it's exquisite work, so would fifteen thousand dollars be alright with you?" Feliciano wanted to pass out. His first painting, and he was selling it for such a large amount. He readily agreed, and was surprised when the man pulled out a checkbook, and wrote him one for the dollar amount mentioned. They traded, and Feliciano was ecstatic. He immediately picked up his things and headed to the bank, so as to make an account. He couldn't very well carry this amount around, after all. And now he could reasonably rent himself a real apartment.

…

Ludwig walked home, and as he walked into the door, he was surprised to find the painting that had been with Feliciano this morning hanging on the wall of the voyeur.

"Where did you get that?" He hoped that the small man was all right. Worst case scenarios ran through his head, no matter how little sense they made. The boy had been mugged, and the painting was unwanted, or that his uncle had had it sold to him by someone who had killed Feliciano to get it.

"A young man was finishing it as I walked through the park. You have a number like it, so I thought it would bring you out of the funk you've been in. Do you like it?" He asked, and Ludwig nodded. A smile was brought to his face, as he realized that his new friend had found a buyer the first day he had a finished painting.

"Yeah. In fact, I've seen the kid painting it when I walk through the park. He's very skilled."

"That he is. I'd like more of his work if I can find him again. But where does a mysteriously talented boy dressed only in suit pants and an undershirt stay. He really is quite the strange one."

"Well, perhaps I'll look for him when I go out tomorrow."

"I don't know if he'll be in the sorts of places that common people go anymore. I gave him fifteen thousand dollars. I would hope that he would use it to live the high life."

"Fair enough. But an artist has to be good at managing money, lest they wind up in an endless roller coaster. After all, they never know if someone will actually buy their next work."

"Well, if you see him, just say that you heard of someone who collects art of the same sort as his. Will you do that?" Ludwig nodded, thinking that his uncle was being quite strange. Usually he would have been scolded for the "yeah" that had slipped from his tongue, and told to change into some suitable clothing immediately. He was actually a bit concerned for the health of his relative. Maybe he was pressuring him so much because he was dying, and he wanted a real heir to the company, since he didn't have one. His uncle had never married, and he was the only other close member of the family that could actually inherit the company, and for him to have a wife and maybe even a kid on the way would make that claim even more legitimate.

Either way, Ludwig was off the hook, and was able to do as he pleased for the time being. Of course, it was quite likely that his uncle would go back to pestering him, and drowning him in money-grabbing blondes, or gingers since he told the elder that he preferred red-heads. He had meant Auburn, but now the man wouldn't lay off the fiery haired curvy types. He wouldn't listen when Ludwig told him he actually didn't like them like that, preferring the more natural looking ones, without the oddly embellished "assets." Not wanting DD's and the biggest ass he could find somehow made Ludwig not like women at all, and he was starting to wonder if that were the case. He didn't seem to have any luck with the woman, and yet he had met quite the interesting man the day he stopped having to have people filtered through the sometimes perverse eye of his adoptive father.

He went upstairs to shower and change before the call to dinner, hoping that he could find a girl with his new, and only, friend's personality. That would simply be perfect.

….

Feliciano walked from the bank with a checking card, and a hundred dollars in cash in his back pocket. They said that a check of that size would take a while to clear, but that obviously the part that he had brought in cash, while odd, and even slightly suspicious, was placed into his account immediately. He thanked the woman who had assisted him, but didn't notice the fact that she was reaching through her purse to get her phone, having been so flustered by his charm she forgot her own number. She had wanted to see if the young artist would be interested in her, but nearly broke into tears when he simply walked away, suitcase and easel in hand, his auburn hair just ruffled enough to add a bit of ruggedness to his nearly feminine appearance.

Not that he had meant to reject her. He had simply never been a part of this courting thing before. The only women he ever socialized with were his own mother and the maids, and as such he had no idea how much of an attractive man he truly was. He thought that he was barely average, if that, and that the hair atop his head was merely an inconvenience. Not that he didn't understand style, just not how not brushing one's hair in the morning, as he had been taught to do in his high-class upbringing, made them look attractive rather than deranged to say the least. He was actually slightly embarrassed to have not at least remembered to slide his fingers through the red-brown locks, or button up the suit jacket that the woman said made him look so artistic. He was happy simply to have money in a newly created bank account, and enough to live somewhere as well. He went to the first hotel he found, one rated about three stars, and asked for at least a week. Seeing as how this wasn't the sort of place where one kept reservations, they said that he could stay as long as he kept paying in advance. He thanked the woman at the front desk, the daughter of the owner, and once again didn't notice her swooning as he passed. He immediately stepped into the shower, happy to be able to wash himself properly. He had splashed cold water from the fountain on his face that morning, but nothing beyond it, and the grease in his hair was starting to annoy him.

He frowned at the tiny shampoo bottles and realized that he would have to get these things as well. He had grown accustomed to the smell of the shampoo, and other toiletries that were present at his old residence. The women even all used the same perfume, and Francis had insisted that they share his cologne. The reason of course being that no one would smell the stuff on him if they both smelt the same all the time. Another carefully planned out move by the sadistic Frenchman. Not only that, for he wouldn't be wearing the scent of his captivity, but he would also need things like a toothbrush. As it was, his teeth were gritty from not brushing them that morning, and then eating sweets as well. Now that he thought about it, he had forgotten to brush them the night he left as well. All of the things he had taken for granted before were starting to gang up on him, and he sighed.

As he finished washing himself, he scowled, an unfamiliar expression to him, as he realized that there was no deodorant here either. He wondered if the front desk would have it, but decided against asking. He would have to go to the store to purchase the other things, for he also had a particular toothbrush that he liked to use. The one with the bendy things between the bristles, and the tongue cleaner. Either way, he got dressed in one of his spare outfits, which looked nearly identical, and started walking as the sun began to fall from its noon position.

….

That night, Ludwig lie in bed, tossing and turning like a man possessed. Never before had such nightmares plagued him. There was that girl, the one who looked like Feliciano, and she went through all manner of horrors while he stood idly by and allowed them to happen. She would shout his name, even say that he had promised he would protect her and yet nothing would be done. If he tried to move, her screams would only become louder as she underwent even more horrific tortures, putting the hell of Dante's Inferno to shame in their terrors.

And yet he still had no idea who she was. She was in a small green dress, with a white cap over her short hair, one odd curl sticking out from its brethren. Her amber eyes, usually wide open in pain, and full of pleading, were like amber daggers, stabbing into his soul over and over again. He wasn't sure he wasn't in hell himself when his alarm finally went off.

He jerked up, and remembered that he had planned to meet Feliciano at the café again today. He punched the off button, never having once touched the snooze, being quite the punctual man, and got up to wash the gallons of cold sweat from his body. Even in the calm of the aromatherapy steam, he was still barely keeping from shouting out as if he were the one enduring the punishments himself. When he deemed himself clean enough, he got out of the hot torrent of water, and slicked his hair back with the water. It would dry and fall again, but he didn't really care. He was supposed to look normal after all, and slicked hair didn't really fit with the jeans and plaid collared shirt.

He walked from the house, figuring that he would simply pick up breakfast at the café, and so he didn't bother getting it from his home as well. Then again, it was only seven o'clock, and he hadn't set a time for his friend. He doubted the other would wake as early as he. Few did, especially when they had jobs as free as that of an artist. So he went to the café, finding it just starting to open, and ordered himself a cup of the finer coffee, as well as some waffles. He never really had waffles, at least not that he remembered, his uncle preferring finer foods even for the first meal of the day. He decided he very much liked them, even if they were unrefined. He wondered if his father had ever let him try them, and if his uncle would allow him to eat them more later on, as he preferred them over the ornate meals usually prepared in his home. He sat waiting for two hours, keeping the waitress from kicking him out by buying more and more small cakes and other snacks when he wasn't really hungry.

Perhaps I should try flirting with her. I am supposed to be meeting women after all. He thought at one point. She was pretty, and her long brown hair was pulled into a high ponytail, with fringed bangs. She was in her early twenties, likely paying off college, or having not gone to college, and was currently wearing her uniform, a mid-length dress with her apron tied a little to tight, to emphasize her small waist and large hips. All in all, quite attractive, but she still held no appeal. Ludwig was going to try it anyway, and see where it went when Feliciano walked in, wearing blue jeans, and a solid sky blue tee shirt. He saw his friend and went to sit down next to him.

"Sorry I'm so late. I thought I pushed the snooze button on my alarm clock, but I accidentally turned it off." He said, smiling apologetically.

"No problem. I was just starting to think that you wouldn't show up."

"Of course I wouldn't just leave you here. You're my only friend, so it isn't like I would be with someone else, and being alone is worse than anything!" the chipper young man said, grinning from ear to ear as he ordered himself a nearly identical order to Ludwig's original.

"I love waffles, don't you?" He said as the breakfast plate came to their table.

"Ja. They're good."

"My mama used to make the best waffles in the world. They were so good, I wouldn't even put syrup on them because it ruined the taste."

"Why wouldn't you eat those waffles instead of these then?"

"Because I never got the recipe before she died a few days ago. And eating, even mama's waffles, by yourself makes the food taste bitter." He said, his smile becoming sad again.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know…" Ludwig felt thoroughly like an ass.

"It's fine. Say, do you have a girlfriend, Harald? You have to, right?"

"No. I don't. Why?"

"Well, I was thinking that we could hang out tomorrow too, but it's Friday, so I figured a nice, handsome guy like you would have a date. So can we?" he seemed exited, like a child who'd been given domain over a candy store. He couldn't say no to those adorable puppy eyes could he? I mean come on, the little guy was just so cute…