I write notes at the starts and ends of chapters to remember what happens next.

0o0o0o

Gilbert was laughing as he ran through the city streets, his cloak abandoned at some post and his jacket flying behind him. The wind bit at his fingers and face and he grinned into the sun. He felt alive.

His insane ramblings about running away are a reality now, a reality tied to other people. To his little brother. They're going to run away to England-oh, he'll miss Prussia, he'll miss this city dearly, but the taste of freedom in his tongue is sweet and heady and intoxicating. He'll find someone to repair his flute and play without caring who hears him. He'll get a bird with gold feathers and talk about how, about who he loves so the world can hear.

And he would write. To Roderich. To tell him what life was without him. Grey, Gilbert thought with a pang, and missed a step. He kept running.

0o0o0o

He crashed into Lili's rooms flushed red and satisfied with himself, and his sister's look made him go cold.

'Let's not play coy,' he said after a silent second. 'You know what's happening.'

'You're leaving tomorrow?'

'I-hold on.' Gilbert scowled. 'How did you find out?'

'You never look closely enough at your letters to see if they've been opened.' Lili looked away. The weight of a kingdom, once held off her shoulders by Gilbert, was crushing her now. She'd always grown up too fast, and she was not meant to be cutthroat.

'You'll be a good queen,' Gilbert said, trying not to show what he had realized. He'd been so caught up in his friends, his brother, his...Roderich that he'd taken his sister for granted.

'I can try.' She smiled softly. 'Maybe once I'm queen, you can come back.'

'Francis and Antonio told me that once you leave a place truly, you can't really come back.' He cleared his throat. 'And I assume our father would exile me permanently.'

'I could change that,' Lili offered, but there was none of her previous lightheartedness. 'You'll visit?'

'I'll write,' Gilbert said firmly. Lili nodded. He could see the way her lips pressed together and he wanted to apologize for everything, but if he did, he wouldn't be able to leave.

'Roderich didn't convince you not to go, then,' she said to break the silence.

'No.' His throat felt thick. 'Lili, you should know. Ludwig is coming with me.'

'Does he know?' she asked humourlessly.

'Yes.' Another thing to apologize for. Taking both her brothers away.

'Does Feliciano Vargas?' she inquired.

'The private?' Gilbert frowned. 'What about him?'

Lili looked stunned before she composed herself. 'I'm surprised Ludwig didn't mention him.'

'Why?'

'He's in love with him.'

Gilbert blinked dumbly. The words settled in his head. 'Oh.'

'Let him say goodbye, if nothing else. If he deserts the army, he won't be able to come back. Neither of you will.'

'I know.' Gilbert stood up. Maybe what was jeered in taverns was true, and his inclinations were infectious. The thought nearly made him smile.

Lili caught him.

'Wait, please. I made this for you.' She held out a handkerchief. He accepted it and turned it over. A lily and a blue cornflower. Her touch was evident in every stitch.

'Thank you.' His voice was too thick. 'You know, you're going to hear of me, and you'll know it's me because they'll all talk about the handkerchief I wear.' It was a ridiculous thing to say, but he hoped it would be true.

'I look forward to it.' Lili smiled gently and bent over her needlepoint, and Gilbert left before either of them could cry.

0o0o0o

He folded the handkerchief deep into his clothes. No matter what type of hard times he fell upon, he would keep it. His flute, Gilbird's cloth, and Lili's handkerchief. All he needed was something from Roderich to remember. Something more than memory.

He needed to tell Ludwig to say goodbye to people, he remembered with a jolt. He pushed his clothes underneath his bed but went to tuck the handkerchief back into his pocket. It caught on something, and he realized it was Roderich's jacket. He pulled it out slowly. It matched his eyes, that dark, startling blue-purple. He could drown in that colour, Gilbert thought. What a sentimental artist he was.

He might as well return it now. It would be difficult to after he left. Gilbert hesitated and removed his cloak to slip Roderich's jacket on. It didn't fit him. He put his cloak back on and arranged it before leaving.

He found Ludwig at a street corner and poked him in the back. He jumped, and Gilbert snickered.

'You're always so uptight,' he teased, elbowing him. Ludwig was taller than him, which made him want to push on his head until his older brother was taller again. It wasn't fair that his little brother was six feet something.

'I'm just...nervous,' Ludwig confessed, and Gilbert suddenly realized he was blushing. 'Do you know where Feliciano is?'

'No.' The thought of telling his brother-jumpy with nerves and thinking of the private he fell for-to say goodbye seemed suddenly too cruel. 'Ludwig, is this about…'

'It is.' Something flickered in his eyes.

'You don't have to leave,' Gilbert said irrationally. 'Or he can come. His brother handles the bar with the theatre in back, though, and I don't know if he'd want to.' Gilbert ran a hand through his hair, wondering rashly if he could ask Lovino to come, and then Antonio and Francis.

No. He had to let go of people. He took a deep breath and thought of everyone he loved, standing in the biting wind with his brother on a street corner, and let himself let them live without him, but Roderich wouldn't leave his thoughts still.

'Perhaps.' Ludwig glanced sideways at him. 'Gilbert. Could he-could we really?'

'I'm not of the mind that anyone you love should be torn away so suddenly,' Gilbert said, and ignored the bitterness of want and irony. 'If he wishes to come, if he is aware of the consequences-well, if we get caught, I'll say it was all my plan. It is. I won't even be lying.'

'I don't-'

'Hello, Ludwig,' someone said from behind him, and his little brother's eyes lit up and he smiled like they were five and unknowing of the world again.

Feliciano Vargas looked up at his brother and smiled back.

'I'll leave you two.' Gilbert nodded to Feliciano, who seemed slightly awestruck, and winked at Ludwig, who flushed red down to his collar. 'Good luck, little brother.'

The more people on this mad run with him, the more risky. Gilbert sighed and kicked a rock along the street. He was only endangering his brother and Feliciano. But he didn't have it in him to be cruel. He hoped he didn't, because he wanted to be kind like he wanted to be free, and even if he could not live for Roderich, he wanted his little brother to have that happiness in his life. He deserved it.

He breathed in, and out, and slowly let Francis and Antonio and Lili from their places so deep in his heart. He would miss them forever, but perhaps his friends would find him, or he really would be able to come back to Prussia.

But for now, he turned up the collar of the coat that wasn't his against the cold and squinted at the setting sun and thought Roderich, Roderich.

0o0o0o

Roderich couldn't stop thinking of Gilbert and his promise-proposal-wish. It was so many ifs, so many impossible things that he should stop dreaming, but he can't. He can't because there was a softness in Gilbert's voice, a vulnerability when he said I would marry you and then not a heartbeat later, not in this world.

He wanted to scream; he wanted to find Gilbert and demand to know how he'd won him so quickly and deeply; he wanted to find Gilbert and have him, like their night but more-

Roderich leaned back against the rough bark and turned his head until his world was saturated in the scent of pine. Of Gilbert. It wasn't a promise-not in this world-but it was enough, good God, if it could be enough for him.

'Are you cold?'

Roderich started, opening his eyes. Gilbert stood there, smiling in that way he had, and Roderich's heartbeat tripped over itself.

'Yes, I am,' he admitted. Gilbert took off his cloak and wrapped it around him. He leaned against the pine next to him and looked sideways at him, and Roderich could barely see his smile curling over his face-damn him, damn him and his wildness and the kindness in his smile.

'You're wearing my jacket.'

'Really?' Gilbert stretched and the too-small jacket rode up. It was too deep of a colour for him, and yet he wasn't any less vibrant. He turned and grinned. 'Would you like it back?'

'You can keep it for now.' Roderich tugged at the thin shirt underneath his borrowed jacket. 'I wouldn't want you to get sick right before you leave.'

The humour left Gilbert's eyes. 'Roderich.'

'Just...stay safe.' There was the horrible choking mass that had been stuck in his chest ever since Gilbert told him, swallowing his words. He looked up to the stars and wondered if it was past midnight and how soon Gilbert would leave. 'Write. Always. Please.'

'Roderich,' Gilbert began again, but suddenly Roderich couldn't stand the way he could run away, the way he was brave enough, and grabbed Gilbert by his collar and pulled him close. He was not ready. He was not ready to lose the most chaotic and beautiful person in his entire life.

He tasted like ink and pine and salt, like he was chewing on his quill, writing and rewriting a letter that always began Dearest Roderich. Roderich didn't realize they were kissing, not really, until Gilbert's hands slipped around him and tugged him closer, until the prince hissed yes against his mouth and Roderich let it happen.

Gilbert drew away. The jacket stood out even more against his blush.

'It's not tomorrow.' He reached out and curled a hand through Roderich's hair. 'I'm leaving in a few days.'

Roderich gasped in relief, and really, there was nothing else to do but kiss him again, whispering something choked, oh god, Gilbert.

'Couldn't leave you without saying goodbye,' Gilbert murmured into his temple, and Roderich was crying, he was, and pressed a hand over his mouth to stop the horrible sobbing noises. Gilbert embraced him and Roderich let himself cry.

He felt raw and torn and alive. Gilbert whispered French and Roderich pressed a thumb to the pulse at his neck, gently. Gilbert breathed in slowly, and it shuddered under his finger.

'Careful.'

'Always.' Roderich traced down to his chest and felt Gilbert's heart thudding against his palm.

'Je t'aime,' Gilbert told him, and Roderich shivered.

'Je t'aime, Gilbert.' He raised his eyes slowly and found Gilbert looking at him with something reflected in the red. Perhaps it was just starlight, but Roderich had seen it in those moments where there was nothing in the world but each other.

'Tell me a secret,' Roderich whispered. Gilbert's hair fell into his face and he pushed it away. His eyes shone.
'I tried to shoot the constellations once.' His finger was white and ghostly in the moonlight as he pointed upwards. 'In my frustration at the world. I lay here on my back, in this very place. And I raised my pistol and shot at the great bear, hoping in some way my bullet would lodge in its flank.'
'Gilbert,' he whispered, not knowing what to say next.
His eyes flicked back to Roderich, wild and soft and kind. 'Tell me a secret, too. Something you've never told anyone before.'

His rough hand slid under Roderich's, and their fingers twined. Roderich could feel their heartbeats where the skin of their wrists touched. He wanted this moment to go on forever.

'I would run away with you,' he whispered, and let all his thoughts of duty treason Prussia fall away. He loved Gilbert Beilschmidt, and it didn't matter what that could do.

Gilbert went still and turned to look at him, and Roderich leaned forward. Gilbert's hair was tangled under his fingers and he tasted like salt and pine and night. His mouth was soft. Their breathing was quiet and his heart pounded in his ears. He pulled away. Gilbert's eyes were unreadable.

'Roderich.'

And all his thoughts cane rushing back and Roderich jerked away, terrified and elated. 'No. No. You have a duty to Prussia.'

'I would let Prussia burn for you, Roderich,' Gilbert told him, and there was a word-a protest-halfway out of his mouth before there was nothing but white hair, red eyes, clever tongue. 'My dearest Roderich.'

0o0o0o

The plot may not be entirely my own making, but I interpret it enough.

:: Songs you heard a long time ago, playing again