Chapter 10: Define Truth
-2012-
"Bruder! I'm leaving! Please, don't go and pester Austria! We still have paperwork to discuss and I don't want to have to drag you all the way from Hungary's death grip!"
Prussia snarled a vague answer that Ludwig did not bother acknowledging. He knew Prussia to be serious when it came to work so things should be fine. Except …
"Are you meeting in Berlin? Can I come?" The albino ran down the stairs and into the hallway where his younger brother was putting on a coat. Ludwig shook his head.
"Paris. I'm taking the train and staying the weekend there. I'll be back on Monday morning."
"Oh. I see. Give him my regards." Prussia mumbled, pretending not to care but Ludwig could tell from the albino's sour tone that he was disappointed.
It's no big secret to the world: France and Germany are in a solid union that spread out to the whole of Europe and unified a continent that until then was constantly punctuated by wars and conflicts. These two nations, enemies, with a hate for each other that surpassed history, found it in them to forgive and work together. They were an inspiration to the world.
Now, the secret that only few people are aware of … well, it's not a secret but simply a small fact that you wouldn't notice if you weren't told of it: France hates Germany.
"The girls will be there. Should I pass on a message? Last time didn't go so well …" Ludwig asked and watched as Gilbert tensed up, his red eyes glaring at the wall, lost in his thoughts.
Last time, Gilbert and Francis had attempted a family outing with the twins to the beach in the south of France. Gilbert had been planning to hopefully reconnect with the Frenchman. On most aspects of life, Francis had long forgiven him and their friendship was rekindled. The same way France was friendly with Germany equally. There was no more animosity. But just like before … there was no love either and trust was lost in History, needing to be slowly rebuilt stone by stone.
Now, if Francis was friendly and welcoming to his old friend, Alsace and Lorraine were deeply resentful of their Prussian father and spent the whole time glaring at him. They only agreed to this outing and the other occasional visits of Prussia, as an apology for tearing down his nation and letting him be imprisoned by Russia. They wouldn't admit it, but the twin French regions had been extremely worried and sad when East Germany was ruled over by the USSR. France told Prussia about this but when Prussia attempted to ask the twins himself … well … it didn't go so well.
"No. Just … Tell them I love them and I miss them."
"I will." The blonde nodded and was about to walk out when he heard his Eastern Counter-Part mutter hurriedly.
"Him too."
There was a brief moment in which Ludwig's hand froze on the handle. Gilbert noticed as he always does. It couldn't be helped. Because as clear as France hates Germany, Germany loves France. Both sides of Germany, whether East or West.
Without a word, West Germany shut his front door and walked to his car, driving off to the train station. He was excited, as he always is. Of course, it will only be official business and nothing more but, like every time, Ludwig can hardly hold his excitement of seeing the one person that made his life worth living.
"You're late! I thought Germans are supposed to always be on time!" Francis smirked amusedly.
"It's a misconception. It's like saying all the French are too proud and complain all the time. Besides, I did call to let you know …"
"Oh right! Sorry Papa! I forgot to tell you West would be late!" Alsace's voice piped from inside the house.
France rolled his eyes, already understanding that his daughter had purposefully omitted to tell him about Ludwig's call. Ludwig said nothing, used to it.
"Should have known …" The Frenchman muttered before moving aside to let his guest in his house. "Anyway, come in! And about that comment concerning pride and complaining all the time … Not as much a misconception as you'd think." France smirked maliciously as he led his partner into his office.
Passing by the living room, Ludwig spotted Alsace and Lorraine chatting energetically in rapid French. After years of practice, the German could now grasp every subtlety of the romantic language. But polite as he was, Ludwig did not pry on the girls' conversation. They were both hunched over a laptop and seemed actively engaged with another person via Skype.
Ludwig followed Francis quietly, looking down his host and noticing every detail since the last time he saw his French partner. He looked healthy and as gorgeous as ever. Ludwig always wondered how Francis could stay so fit without having to work out as much as Ludwig does while eating such rich and delicious food all the time. When he asked England, the Briton simply chuckled and told him that it was because Francis burns up all his calories in the hours he spends in the kitchen cooking miracles. That is not half-wrong.
"We need to talk about Greece! Things can't keep up like that!" Francis sighed, mostly tired and irritated, his blue orbs glaring at the files of countless problems and absolutely no solution to them.
"I agree. But I don't see why we should be covering their debts all the time. Besides that, there are also Spain and the Italies …"
"About that, how's it going with Veneziano? I heard you guys broke up?"
Ludwig did not point out that Francis was changing subject. He knew it was a way for the Frenchman to take a break and frankly, this is the first work-unrelated topic that Francis approached and engaged with him since he arrived. As a rare opportunity to simply talk with the French nation, West Germany more than engaged in his answer.
"Ja. Feliciano is nice but I can't see him as more than a friend."
"Hm … He was the one to ask you out, right? Pity. He's really nice and he might have helped cheer up that serious expression of yours." Francis spoke while stretching his arms.
His tone was light and talkative. It had lost all its bitterness and coldness since war times. There was no hatred in it, not even hidden. France was genuinely socialising with Germany without showing any past resentment.
But Francis hates Ludwig.
The German knows this as plain as daylight. And he long accepted this. That's the reason why he attempted to date other nations in hopes to move on from his French crush. With no luck. His best bet had been with Feliciano. The Italian was truly a wonderful lover and had shown an absolute trust and love in him. Something so foreign that it made Ludwig uncomfortable and scared. He often ended up picturing France through Italy … it frightened him more. Not only was he disrespecting Feliciano by thinking of someone else while kissing him, but France cannot be close to what Italy is like! France is just … France! No nation has ever been able to take up France's place in the German's heart. Feliciano was lovely. He was caring. He was trusting. He was innocent. He was the perfect lover one can wish for. But he isn't France.
And Ludwig loves Francis.
Not Feliciano.
"We didn't have matching feelings. He loved me too much. I loved him too little." Ludwig explained with a dull monotonous tone.
He got so used to this situation where he explains to France the reasons for his break up. Nations ask Germany out … and weeks later, Germany breaks up. Because no matter what security, comfort, love or trust other nations shower him in, Ludwig felt even worse dating them. He felt disgusted. Because he didn't deserve the care, the trust, the love, the comfort. France was not like that. France did not trust him. He trusted him enough as a friend but never enough as a lover. France does not trust anyone as a lover. Just like France doesn't love. France doesn't risk the comfort of a relationship. France doesn't care for more than one night.
France does not love. But he seems to be determined in making Germany find love! And that's how Ludwig finds himself being lectured each and every single time he breaks up.
Today again, he expected another lecture from France about the importance of love and how Ludwig should get out of his shell and trust people more (how Francis can self-appoint himself such rights to lecture him about love and trust, when the French nation himself didn't follow his own advice, Ludwig really does not understand! But Francis is cute when he gets excited over romance so …). However, instead, Ludwig was met with blank silence. Looking up, he noticed the stern and serious expression of Francis. The Frenchman looked troubled and about to talk but no words came out of his lips. Eventually, he seemed to change his mind and spoke different words.
"You always give me that answer. Every time I ask about your latest break-up, you tell me the exact same answer."
Ludwig blinked, surprised. Had he? He never noticed.
"I didn't realise …"
"I know. Just like I know why you can never keep up a stable relationship." Francis muttered darkly, more to himself than to his German guest.
"… Francis … we don't have to talk about this …"
"No! We do!" Francis narrowed his sapphires into the icy orbs of Ludwig. The German caught his breath, feeling his heart pulse faster and praying his face was not as red as it felt.
"I told you already so many times … You need to move on with your life! You need to find someone that will make you happy! You're not happy, Ludwig! Nor is that idiot brother of yours! Honestly! When are you both going to get your act together and just … just give up?" France muttered his last words, chocking slightly on them.
Ludwig couldn't answer. He knew exactly why France was telling him this. He could very well imagine France feeling responsible for holding a grip on Germany's heart for so long. He knew exactly how kind France was being. And how cruel his words are. How strange … for a kindness to be so cruel.
"I'm not unhappy." Ludwig answered softly and honestly.
"Don't lie!" France snapped at him angrily. "I'm always lashing at you and I hate you!"
"I know."
"I don't trust you with my heart and I won't love anyone!"
"I know."
"I am difficult, picky, too proud, I complain all the time, and we argue almost every time we talk!"
"I know."
"Then why are you still coming back?! Do what Gilbert does! He stopped trying! He told me himself he was going to move on! Why can't you do the same? Go out and forget me! You know I'm only a waste of your time!"
"I'm not my brother. My brother may have given up on you but I can't."
"I'm not worth that much trouble!" Francis chuckled in a dry laugh that made Ludwig frown in sudden anger. The German grabbed the other's hand and surprised Francis by pulling him into a sudden unexpected kiss.
"You're worth a lot more than just trouble." Ludwig whispered, his face redder than he could imagine but his eyes determined. He didn't expect anything. He knew exactly what France would do and say.
France hates Germany.
…
… …
So why is France blushing?
Ludwig stared in surprise. This was the first time he ever saw Francis blush. In fact, he believed that Francis might not even be able to blush. And here he was … with his cheeks tainted pink, his eyes glaring under long dark lashes, his blonde locks framing his perfect face and his usual stubble of beard shaved off as he always does when at home.
The only reason France lets his beard grow was to appear manlier and less womanly. He hated being mistaken for a woman because he then gets hit on by stupid guys in the street. Ludwig more than once had to hold back the urge to kill these senseless men. But watching Francis beat them up himself was satisfactory enough.
Francis doesn't do love. He doesn't do dates. He doesn't do relationships. The closest he has to one would always be a one night stand or light flirtations with girls in the street. But he never allows anyone to hit into that black hole in him where his feelings are buried. Ludwig never thought he'd get to see these feelings lightening up Francis' face.
Because Francis hates him.
… Right?
"I hate you."
"I know."
"Why are you still obsessing over me?"
"I don't know."
"Is there any other word you know aside from -I know- and -I don't know-?"
"… I lo- …"
"No, you don't! I told you before! Stop it!"
Francis growled angrily as he gripped Ludwig's collar, pinning him to the floor. Ludwig never attempted to defend himself. He had no right to. As far as he is concerned, Francis had every right over him. What puzzled the German was that France didn't think that way. Francis hated when Ludwig apologised for no reason. He hated the constant guilt that made Ludwig tiptoe around him and treat him like porcelain. He hated the distant fascination and loving faithfulness that Ludwig showed by constantly rejecting other nations. Ludwig would only date after being encouraged to do so by Francis. And no matter if he dated, Ludwig always broke up.
Because Ludwig loves Francis.
Francis sighed, face-palming as he remained straddling Ludwig to the floor.
"You are impossible … I just can't win, can I?"
Ludwig frowned, confused. He had never seen Francis showing so little defence. Usually, Francis never lets his guard down, even when he's drunk.
"I don't understand …"
Francis looked down. Anger but no hate.
"You know why I stayed and obeyed your orders back then?"
Ludwig did not answer. He didn't like remembering back then. But he had wondered. He had wondered why Francis never once complained or disobeyed. He wondered why the Frenchman had stayed by the side of the monster Germany had been. Back then … Why did France stay?
"Because if I didn't … you would have been lost." Francis pulled himself up to his feet and helped the other up too. "Sanity is something you easily loose. I've been there. I've seen insanity. I've been insanity. And Luckily for me, someone stopped me before I was lost. And if you don't have someone to anchor you, you'll turn out into a monster. I can't let you lose yourself, Ludwig."
Francis paused for a second, frowning and glaring away at the wall, avoiding crossing eyes with the German, as he spoke his last words in an oddly soft tone.
"I can't lose you."