Before Gilbert could blink, the summer of 1931 had passed him by, and he was on the train ride back home to Berlin. Ludwig was seated across from him, moping as he read the last book that Joachim had given him for his birthday. Gilbert sighed, watching his brother who he'd never seen so pouty before.

"Maybe you can go back each summer," Gilbert suggested.

Ludwig didn't say anything, too focused on his book and being in a bad mood. Their parting with the old man had been rather sad, as he waved from a slight distance. He and another elderly couple the only ones at the station, all three of them saying goodbye to loved ones.

The train ride seemed to go much faster than it had last time, both Ludwig and Gilbert dreading being home. He vaguely wondered if Elizaveta and Roderich had done what he'd asked and waited to send a letter, he couldn't imagine what would happen if his father found a letter from his old friends. He also wondered if, like Antonio had said, his parents had sorted everything out between them. Regardless of being seventeen, Gilbert felt helpless when they fought, not quite sure how to handle the situation, and definitely not knowing how to make it so his parents would stop fighting.

When the train arrived, both brothers took a few minutes to finally haul themselves to their feet. Gilbert had already spotted their father in the crowd, solemn and stern as always. His hair was slicked back, and he stood at attention, dressed very formally. He looked as though he were greeting a business partner or someone higher up than him, rather than his sons.

As they exited the train and approached their father, he made no move to greet either of them. Instead, he turned away from them and walked to where the luggage was. The scene was all too like when Joachim had picked them up months earlier, aside from the lack of teasing and a lighter mood.

"Grab your things boys, and then meet me outside, I'll have the car waiting," their father said.

"Where's mother?" Ludwig asked.

Their father favored walking away from the two of them over answering Ludwig. Gilbert narrowed his eyes and frowned. This was really going to be unawesome. At least once he got home he would be able to go see Francis and Antonio. They always knew how to make a bad day better.

Once they had their things, Gilbert and Ludwig walked for what seemed like hours to leave the train station, their feet dragging and their bags weighing them down more than usual.

"Maybe things have changed," Gilbert said. "Maybe things will be awesome again, like they used to be."

Ludwig didn't even offer a nod in response.

The car ride to their house was tense, and uncomfortably silent. It was nothing like the times when he, Ludwig and Joachim would sit in the 'reading room', as Ludwig had dubbed it. Gilbert wouldn't read, so much as just have a book open in front of him, while the other two finished three books in a day. They were silent days, but they were calm and relaxing. This car ride, in particular, was nothing close to calm and relaxing. Gilbert could feel the hairs on his arms standing up, and his shoulders were tense.

"So how is mother?" Gilbert pressed.

"Fine," their father snapped.

"Why didn't she come to the train station?" he asked.

"Just be quiet," he was told.

Gilbert did so, and then glared out of the window. Already, he could tell that things were not awesome at home. They probably wouldn't be awesome ever again, despite their parents having had a whole summer to sort things out. It wasn't too long, only four months, but they should have been able to at least realize that the fighting was not something to do while their children were awake or when their tutor was over.

"When will Mrs. Berlitz come to teach us now that we're back in Berlin?" Ludwig asked.

"Mrs. Berlitz will no longer be teaching you," was all they got. Neither brother inquired as to why. Gilbert certainly knew why, and he felt the shame coiling in his gut for being the cause of the nice old lady losing her job. "Your new tutor is a man named Mr. Kappel. From now on you will be given a proper education."

Gilbert cringed at the thought, but stayed quiet as their father pulled the car up to their house, not even stopping to help the boys unload their things or carry them upstairs. The house was oddly silent inside, and it was a sound, or more a lack of sound, that Gilbert was not used to. He had adjusted to dogs trotting around or of the pages of a book slowly turning. In this case, though, he expected a warm greeting from his mother or shouting between his parents.

Instead, he walked up the stairs and to his room, where everything was the same as it had always been. His pile of discarded letters was nowhere to be seen, presumably discarded even more so by his father. Gilbert set down his things, not sure if he was ready to unpack yet. His chest felt strange, like it had when he first left to go stay with Joachim. The feeling of leaving home.

But I am home, Gilbert thought, glaring around his room. He approached his window that overlooked the city, and shrank at the thought that he had once thought this was an amazing sight. All he could see now was building after building after building.

After deciding that he was going to go stir crazy if he sat all day and did nothing in his house, Gilbert meandered downstairs and back to where he had taken off his shoes, and slipped them back on. "I am going to see Francis and Antonio!" he called. Before he could receive any sort of disapproval for his actions, Gilbert ran out of the house and hopped onto his bicycle, pedaling down the street. Even after a summer away, it was as though he knew where he was going without even having to think about it.

Within a few minutes Gilbert was at the door of where his friends temporarily lived, knocking loudly so even if they were asleep they'd hear him. On the other side of the door he could hear what sounded like Antonio stumbling to wake himself up, slumping against the door.

A second later though, Gilbert heard a very excited, Antonio-esque scream as the door was flung open, nearly hitting Gilbert, and the German was wrapped in a scent that was so Antonio. "Gilbert!" the Spaniard cried.

"Hey, Toni!" Gilbert responded with just as much excitement. "It's been months!"

"Francis, Gilbert is back!" Antonio called, dragging Gilbert backwards into their apartment without releasing him from the bone-crushing hug. "Francis, come say hello!"

"Antonio, cher, please, I am right here, I can hear you," Francis said from his casual perch on the couch. "Hello, Gilbert, it is good to have you back in Berlin."

"It's good to be back," Gilbert said, although a moment after he regretted it. The only thing that had been good about Berlin so far was that he was with his friends. "Did you two sit around and do nothing while I was gone?"

Francis dramatically put a hand to his forehead, imitating a sob. "We were so lost without you, Gilbert, we had no idea of what to do or where to go or how to ever recover the awesome quality that you brought to our little trio."

"Damn right I made you guys awesome," Gilbert said. "I mean, you were pretty okay before you met me, but now you're a lot better."

"Did you write to your girlfriend?" Antonio teased, shoving Gilbert to a seat on the couch.

Gilbert blushed, but nodded. He crossed his arms though, attempting to be aloof. "It wasn't really to her though, more to her brother. I don't care about her that much." Francis rolled his eyes, and Antonio laughed. Gilbert supposed, despite the troubles at his house, it was good to be back in Berlin.

.

Mr. Kappel, not-so-unexpectedly, turned out to be one of the most horrible human beings Gilbert had ever met. He was nothing like Mrs. Berlitz. Every day when he arrived at ten am on the dot, Gilbert and Ludwig were expected to greet him at the door, but the greeting was never friendly. He made Ludwig and Gilbert salute to him, and wait until he got to the parlor before they joined him.

There, he would sit down and lay out all of the learning materials for the day, and organize himself. The brothers were not allowed to sit until given permission to, and even then they had to have perfect posture. When Mr. Kappel had seen how Gilbert sat so casually and without a completely straight back, he tied Gilbert to the chair in several places to teach him "proper posture".

Ludwig, being so neat all of the time, was Mr. Kappel's favorite student from the get-go. His salute was perfect, his posture was perfect, his grades were perfect, he never did anything wrong. Unlike Gilbert, who felt like, under Mr. Kappel's gaze, he did every single thing possible wrong. He never answered fast enough, or thought of the right answers, or did his homework right.

That was probably Gilbert's least favorite part about Mr. Kappel, every day they had a pile of papers or books to read. Ludwig didn't mind, but it always managed to make Gilbert mad. How was he supposed to spend time with Antonio and Francis if Mr. Kappel didn't leave until two in the afternoon and gave them three hours' worth of work to do after he left? Despite everything, Gilbert managed to spend most of his afternoons with his friends in which time they spent planning their trip to Paris and Antonio's hometown.

"In Paris, we will stay in my family's home," Francis said. "My parents have moved to America, but they left me the house, free to do whatever I see fit. It is not a long walk from the center of the city, and of course I will have to show you both all of the sights. And no, not just the Eiffel Tower, Gilbert," he said, having seen Gilbert roll his eyes. "And then in Spain we will stay at your house, correct, Antonio?"

Antonio nodded brightly, a grin stretched across his face. "I'm sure you will love it, it's very nice. Probably just like where you stayed for the summer, Gilbert."

Gilbert could hardly imagine that both of his friends had houses of their own. He felt so dependent on his parents when he was around Francis and Antonio.

"How is your mother, Gilbert?" Francis asked, somewhat out of the blue.

"She's awesome," Gilbert answered with a grin.

Of course, that had been a lie. Gilbert and Ludwig hadn't heard from or seen their mother since the day she waved them goodbye at the train station. Their father refused to speak of her, and Gilbert could only imagine that meant she had left him. But why she didn't take her sons, Gilbert didn't know. It made him mad just to think about it. As unawesome as it was to be mad at his mother, she had left him and his twelve year old brother in the care of a man who they never saw.

Every night, he would stop by the table to pick up the food their recently-hired maid had cooked, and then return to his room. He claimed he had important business to be working on. Gilbert detested the idea that some sort of business was more important to his father than his family.

"Don't ever become like him," Ludwig said one night from across the table. He set down his knife and fork, watching Gilbert intently, who also put down his cutlery. "If you and Elizaveta start a family," Gilbert blushed, "or even if it's with some other girl, don't treat your children like this."

"I won't," Gilbert assured. "I can't imagine ever being as horrible as he is.

.

It was one of those such nights that Gilbert had finally decided he'd had enough of his father's crap. Gilbert was seated across from Ludwig, who had begun eating. The older of the two sat and waited for his father to come downstairs, watching him with a cold glare. The eldest blond barely stopped by the table as he grabbed his plate, not even bothering to glance at his sons.

Until, however, Gilbert stood up, standing at his full height. "Aren't you going to eat with us," he said, not even bothering to say it as a question. "Hasn't it always been family tradition that we eat together like a family?"

From across the table, Ludwig shot a Gilbert a horrified look. "Gilbert," he hissed, "sit back down."

Gilbert didn't listen, watching as his father set his plate back down, but instead of sitting down, he approached Gilbert. Even from a slight distance, Gilbert could smell the heady stench of alcohol on his father's breath. "What did you say to me?" he asked, his voice low.

"I want to know if you will actually eat dinner with us for once, and at least pretend that you haven't ruined our family," Gilbert said, refusing to back down, even as his father closed the distance between them.

"Why you selfish little brat," he snarled, curling his hands into fists.

"I'm the selfish one?" Gilbert snapped. "You won't tell us where our mother is, you sent us away for a summer, you hired a teacher who is turning us into brainwashed," the younger German struggled to find the word he was looking for, his heart hammering in his chest, "Nazis!" he finally spat out.

A flash of regret washed through Gilbert as his father's expression darkened, but Gilbert continued to hold his ground. He was at least a foot shorter than the other German, and definitely didn't have anywhere near the amount of muscle mass his father did. That wouldn't stop him from doing what he felt was right.

"Is there something wrong with being proud of your country?" he asked.

"When it puts my friends' lives at risk, yes!" Gilbert retorted. "When my friend was persecuted in our town for being different than anyone else, yes, there is something wrong with being proud of my country," he repeated, forcing himself to speak quieter. He knew that shouting would get him nowhere.

"Your friend is trash," his father responded. "If you feel so strongly about this, then you can get out of my house. Take your things, and leave. Go die in the streets, Jew-lover."

"I'm not leaving," Gilbert said. "I won't do anything you want me to do anymore."

Ludwig, still on the other side of the table, watching the exchange wide-eyed, finally stood up. He stayed where he was, but still the two others looked towards him. "Do not threaten my brother again," he said quietly. Gilbert felt his chest well up with pride for his brother, a wide smirk carving itself onto his features. "You may not agree with each other," he continued, "but he is still your son, and you shouldn't want him dead."

Their father, obviously having lost the fight when Ludwig joined, stormed upstairs, his plate forgotten. Gilbert held his father's glare the whole way up the stairs and to his room, only relaxing when he heard the door slam shut. He sighed, and fell back down into his chair, his legs shaking as if he had run a mile.

"I've never been so scared in my life!" he laughed, running a shaking hand through his hair. "Thanks for coming to my rescue, little man," Gilbert said, grinning at his brother. "It was pretty awesome of you."

Ludwig nodded, and sat back down, going back to eating his meal without a word. Gilbert eventually joined him, though he could barely sit still. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, and he felt as though he could run a mile.

Hours after the fact, Gilbert was lying in his bed with that dopey grin still on his face. He stared at his ceiling, his heart still beating at a thousand miles per hour. Never before had standing up to someone made him feel so energized, even when he fought the bullies off in the schoolyard for Elizaveta. He had a feeling that he could do anything.