I find myself once again apologizing for taking so long with this chapter. I was away over Thanksgiving break and did not have access to my laptop, and then when I got back, school has been insanely busy. So sorry for making you guys wait once again, and I hope it was worth it!

"Gilbert, are you even listening to me?"

Roderich's voice drifted into Gilbert's ear as if from very far away. Crimson eyes were fixated on the scene just outside the bedroom window rather than on the Austrian who stood before him, lecturing him yet again. The pristine green of the leaves on the trees was slowly being consumed by plumes of red, yellow, and orange. Already, a few lone fallen leaves lay scattered about on sidewalks and smashed by car wheels in the middle of the street. Outside, the air was beginning to cool, enough to coax Gilbert's jackets out of hiding and into the front closet so he could wear them every evening when he went for a walk. A gentle yet chilling breeze ruffled the multicolored leaves. Gilbert thought about how time had passed since Roderich had awoken from his coma in May. It seemed like forever ago. Gilbert's eyes flicked to the watch on his wrist to check the digital date display. September 26. Feliciano and Ludwig's wedding was now just two days away, in the very same park where Gilbert had proposed to Roderich more than two years ago.

"Gilbert!" Roderich repeated sharply.

Blinking, Gilbert tore his eyes away from the window and allowed them to settle back on Roderich's face. "Sorry, what did you ask me again?"

Roderich folded his arms across his chest. He glared at Gilbert petulantly from under his glasses, amethyst eyes flashing indignantly. "You were not paying attention," he scolded. "You did not hear a single word I said, did you?" Gilbert shook his head apologetically, having zoned out amidst thoughts of how the days since Roderich had regained his memory had melted into weeks and then months in what seemed like the blink of an eye. "Had you been listening to me, you would have heard that I asked you if you picked up our suits on your way home like you said you would."

Shit. The suits. Gilbert had forgotten all about them as he'd driven home with the crisp autumn air flowing in through rolled-down windows and with late-afternoon sunshine reflecting off the hood of the car. "No, sorry, I forgot," Gilbert mumbled. He lowered his gaze to the floor as he prepared to be scolded or perhaps even yelled at.

"You forgot? How could you forget? I asked you to do one thing, and you forgot," the Austrian snapped, aiming an accusatory finger into Gilbert's face. "In case you were not aware, your brother is getting married in two days."

Gilbert should have expected nothing less. "Of course I'm fucking aware," he shot back.

"Well, then, are you planning to act as your brother's best man wearing jeans and a t-shirt? Somehow I don't think Ludwig would appreciate that very much."

"People forget shit all the time," Gilbert said. "It just happens. If you're so concerned about it, you could get in the car and go pick them up yourself, Mr. Lazy-pants."

The way Roderich's face darkened so instantly told Gilbert that he had just crossed some invisible line in the territory of the Austrian's patience. That look forbade of an argument in the same way dark gray clouds that billowed in the sky forbade of a storm. He had memorized that look so well in the time that he and Roderich had been together. But it had surfaced to that handsome face of his so abnormally rarely since he had regained his memory. Roderich had realized how deeply he had hurt Gilbert, and how deeply Gilbert blamed himself for his own actions. The Austrian had been so uncharacteristically sweet and gentle to Gilbert to compensate for the arguments and frustration that had passed between them since Roderich had awoken. The two had enjoyed three months of relative peace in their relationship, which had apparently come to an abrupt end. "Lazy?" Roderich echoed. "Who are you calling lazy? I have philharmonic rehearsals almost every day, and when I'm not rehearsing, I'm practicing on my own. Have you any idea how difficult it is to play an instrument again after having been in a coma for almost three months?"

"Don't remind me," Gilbert said in a voice that was much more soft and subdued than it had been a moment ago. He had spent every day trying to forget how unbearably painful those months had been. For a moment, an expression that was almost - almost - sympathetic crossed Roderich's face. But then, something cracked inside of Gilbert, and then words started to fall from his lips as though his brain had lost control of his mouth: "What, is my prissy little musician too good to do silly little chores? Just because I don't have a fancy job like you do, you get to make me run all the errands?"

Roderich froze. Silence enveloped the room. The air conditioner whirred in the distance and the wind howled through the branches of the trees outside. Then, those purple eyes grew a shade or two darker. "Are you suggesting I'm too good for you?" He wasn't shouting like he had been before. His voice had dropped into an abnormally low register that was as dark and quietly furious as his eyes. "Let me remind you of something else, Gilbert Beilschmidt. I chose you when I married you. You and no one else. I wonder why that is?" He raised a finger to his lips mockingly before continuing. "You made the same promise to me, did you not? Except I think you forgot all about that 'no one else' part, didn't you?"

"I…Roderich, I…"

The reality of Roderich's words invaded Gilbert's mind. Since the night Gilbert had broken down in tears when confessing he'd slept with Ivan, the two of them had ignored the matter. He'd wondered if Roderich had truly forgiven him, or if he was storing his anger inside him until it built up to the point of breaking. Finally, Gilbert had his answer. It was sickening and sudden, but it was an answer nonetheless.

"Yeah, well fuck you," Gilbert blurted. It was the only thing he could think to say.

"Ooh, don't threaten me with a good time," Roderich shot back. "Oh, wait, wouldn't that be a little difficult considering you were too busy fucking Ivan Braginsky?"

That was it. Whatever composure and restraint Gilbert had left cracked and finally snapped in half. "You don't understand!" he yelled, circling around the bedroom until he stopped about six inches away from Roderich, so close he could have kissed the other man if he'd wanted to. "I don't even know if you tried to understand! I feel like I die inside every day knowing I did that to you! And yes, I'm fucking sorry about it. How many times do I have to tell you how fucking sorry I am for it to sink into that little brain of yours?" He paused to catch his breath. His head ached dully and his heart thudded erratically in his chest. "Or is it just too full of music to fit any emotions in there?" he added. His lips curved into a sneer as he grabbed a handful of Roderich's collar and used it to pull him in even closer yet. Crimson eyes met violet ones, staring them down relentlessly.

Roderich flattened both palms against Gilbert's chest and used them to shove the albino away. "Yes, you're sorry!" he yelled right back. "Everyone is fucking sorry for something. You can apologize a million times if you want to, but it won't change what you did! So don't even waste your breath. Nothing you can ever say or do will change the fact that you were fucking Braginsky while I couldn't even move! Nothing! Do you hear me?" Gilbert nodded stiffly.

There was a pause. The Austrian's face softened a bit. "Wait a moment. I made a mistake…" His voice had returned almost to normal.

Gilbert's face lit up. He smiled tentatively. Roderich was going to apologize –

"My mistake was that, knowing you, Braginsky was probably fucking you, not the other way around."

Gilbert could have slapped Roderich across the face for that. He almost wanted to. But he knew it would just make him feel worse a few hours later. Instead, he balled his hands into fists as the warmth dissipated from his expression. He was stunned into silence. All the words he should have said fled, leaving him stranded with nothing but cold and empty accusations. "Well…well maybe I should just leave, then!" he responded at last.

"Maybe you should!" Roderich yelled back.

"It's clear you don't even want me around."

Narrowed eyes seemed to burn holes right into Gilbert's soul. "Maybe I don't," the Austrian said coolly as he folded his arms across his chest. "I certainly don't want you around right now."

"All right. Fuck this," Gilbert said, managing to sound much less composed than Roderich did. "And to hell with you. I'm going to see someone who actually appreciates me for once." He pushed open the door and started to step out into the hallway. But before he could, a thought crossed his mind. He halted and glanced over his shoulder at Roderich, who had not moved an inch from where he stood, glaring back at Gilbert as he left. "I still love you, you know that?" he said softly.

The Austrian's mouth fell open. But before he could say another word, Gilbert slammed the door, trudged down the hallway and down the stairs, and went out the front door without putting his coat on.

Gilbert got into his car and just started driving.

At first, he had no destination in mind other than to put distance between himself and Roderich, if only for a few hours. He didn't feel like walking. He felt too lonely whenever he walked those city streets with hundreds of people passing by whom he would never meet. So he drove instead, finding his way instinctually to the road that would lead to Ludwig and Feliciano's home. But then he realized they were both busy with wedding preparations – or perhaps pre-wedding sex. He sighed and steered his vehicle instead toward Antonio's apartment.

A knock at the door. A moment of silence. Gilbert held his breath. Then, he heard the sound of footsteps from within the apartment, and finally, the sound of the door unlocking. A familiar smiling face appeared in the doorway. "Hey Gil-"

Antonio's sunny expression faded as though clouds had suddenly swept in and blocked the sun from view. "Gilbert, you look…ah, are you all right?"

The German shook his head sullenly. "Roderich and I…we got into a big fight," he said quietly as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I'm sorry I didn't call you first before I just showed up, but I needed to get away for a while. And I didn't want to bother Ludwig and Feli because…"

"That's all right," Antonio said warmly. He patted Gilbert on the shoulder. "I'm not busy! Come on in." He stepped aside and Gilbert made his way into the apartment. He flopped down onto the couch and slumped into it, resting his face in one hand. "Gil, can I get you anything?" the Spaniard asked. "Some beer?"

"That would be nice," Gilbert replied with a nod. He couldn't find the will to smile back at his friend. Antonio disappeared into the kitchen and returned carrying two bottles of beer, one that he passed to Gilbert. Wordlessly, the albino accepted it and sipped absently. The familiar taste didn't comfort him as it usually did. All he could think of was getting drunk and coming home only to have Roderich scold him for smelling of alcohol. But he continued to drink, hoping that the alcohol might make him feel numb for a little while.

A weight dropped onto Gilbert's shoulder. He turned his head slowly to find Antonio's free hand resting on his shoulder again. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Gilbert sighed in the same way he'd sighed when walking to the hospital all those days, in which he'd prayed for a miracle in the time it took him to make his way from his car to the sliding doors. "I forgot to pick up our suits for Lud's wedding," Gilbert began. "And Roderich got mad at me. I shouldn't have gotten mad, too, but I did and that's just what happened. And then he brought up…" He paused to stare at his hands. He swirled the amber liquid inside his beer bottle, watching it slosh from side to side for a moment before he looked back into Antonio's bright green eyes. "He brought up me sleeping with Ivan. And I couldn't handle it. We just started screaming at each other and then I just kind of…left and started driving."

"Oh, Gil." Antonio frowned gently, eyebrows furrowing. He had never moved his hand from Gilbert's shoulder. It looked as though the sadness and guilt in the German's expression had seeped into Antonio's, draining the energy from his smile. "Maybe it's best you came here, then. It'll give you both some time to cool off."

"I guess so…" Gilbert said as he raised his bottle of beer to his lips and tilted his head back to sip the last few drops from it. He set the empty bottle on the table next to the couch and toyed with the zipper to his sweatshirt, flipping it back and forth just to have something to occupy himself. "But the last time we fought like this and went our separate ways for a while, Roderich got in the car and didn't come back for two months. And I felt so guilty because the last thing I said to him was something about not needing him…that I'd be just fine on my own…and I just…"

"Gilbert," Antonio said firmly. "That is not going to happen this time. You're going to stay here for a while, then you're going to go home, and the two of you are going to talk about it, and everything is going to be fine." He leaned in a little closer and met Gilbert's gaze with his own. Those carefree green eyes of his looked so serious. "Okay?"

"Okay," Gilbert muttered. He turned away and let his eyes wander, settling on nothing in particular.

Antonio grasped Gilbert's wrist lightly and tugged on it. Reluctantly, the German turned his head back to look at his friend again. "You don't sound convinced," the Spaniard said. "Listen to me, Gilbert. Listen to me. Everything will work out. You two have made it this far, haven't you?" Gilbert nodded slowly, his silvery hair barely moving as he did. "Good, then you can get through this."

Just as he had done when Roderich was still in the hospital, Gilbert gently pushed Antonio's hand away. Nothing his friend said had made him feel even a little bit better. Neither had the alcohol. Roderich was the only thing that could make him feel better. "Can we really get through this, Tonio?"

"Of course you can. Don't you believe that?"

Gilbert just shook his head.

Without another word, Antonio got up, went back into the kitchen, and returned with a second beer for Gilbert. He accepted it and took a sip or two before he set it aside. For once, he didn't feel in the mood to drink any more. Antonio's eyes widened in surprise. "Look, Gilbert. I won't lie to you. Roderich is probably still upset over what happened between you and Ivan. He might even be a little jealous. But he might not have wanted to talk about it because he knew it would hurt you. I think the two of you need to sit down and just tell each other how you feel. About everything. And then you agree to move past it."

"You're right, Tonio," Gilbert said. "You're right. That's what I'll do. Thank you."

A pair of arms wrapped around Gilbert's body and pulled him in close. Gilbert leaned into the embrace and finally smiled a little. Antonio patted him on the back a few times. When they finally broke the hug, the albino leaned back against the couch and yawned, suddenly feeling tired. "Hey Tonio, can I stay here tonight?"

"Of course you can, amigo. You and Roderich will both feel better in the morning."

A few hours later, Gilbert curled up in Antonio's spare bed and closed his eyes in the hopes that tomorrow, he and Roderich would be able to forgive each other again. But he tossed and turned for hours, unable to find sleep because he no longer had Roderich to hold.

Late the next morning, Gilbert awoke to the sound of his ringtone. Without opening his eyes, he reached out and felt for his cell phone on the nightstand. "Hello?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Roderich's voice, soft and full of concern.

"What do you think, Princess?" This time, the nickname was used roughly, taking on a tone that was insulting rather than teasing.

Roderich sighed into the phone. "Gil, look, I'm sorry. Can you please come home now? Where are you? I was worried."

Pushing himself up into a sitting position, Gilbert blinked and tried to shake the sleep away. "Oh, so you actually want me around, do you?" he said. "Or are you just lying so you can make yourself feel better about all that shit you said to me?" He paused for a moment and remembered that Roderich had wanted to know where he was. "Oh yeah, I'm at Tonio's."

"Come home now, please?" Roderich pleaded. "We'll talk about it. I do want you around. I do. Come on, Gil."

"Fine." Gilbert hung up before Roderich could say anything else. He thanked Antonio for letting him spend the night, gave his friend a quick hug, climbed back into his car, and started to drive home – but not before stopping to pick up the suits on the way.

He hesitated at the door to their home. No sounds emanated from inside, not even the quiet lilt of piano or violin music. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and at last started to turn it in slow motion. The door creaked open. He stepped inside the house, his footfalls echoing on the wooden floor of the entryway. Figuring Roderich was probably in their bedroom, he made his way up the stairs, taking his time with each step.

Gilbert found Roderich lying on their bed, fully dressed and without a single hair out of place, gazing at the ceiling with unmoving purple eyes. But his head jerked up when Gilbert pushed open the door. He stood, brushed the wrinkles out of his clothing, and walked to meet Gilbert in the doorway. "Hello, Gil. I missed you," he said quietly, his voice barely stirring the still air.

"Oh, did you?" Gilbert said flatly in spite of how badly he wanted to be in Roderich's arms again.

"Why would I lie to you about something like that?" Roderich leaned in for a kiss. Gilbert turned his head to the side so that the Austrian's lips wound up pressed against his cheek. He pulled back, looking shocked, almost hurt. "Gilbert, I'm sorry. I really am. I…overreacted. And I never should have mentioned Ivan. And…I'm just sorry, okay?"

"Mmhmm," Gilbert muttered, looking into the distance rather than meeting Roderich's gaze with his own.

Roderich gently grasped the collar of Gilbert's shirt. "No, I really am," he said, smiling faintly. "Come on, Gil. I love you."

That smile, however tentative it was, and the intimate quality of Roderich's voice, were enough to make Gilbert's resolve start to crack. "I love you too," he replied, and leaned in until their lips barely touched, lingering for the briefest of moments before he pulled back again.

"But you're still mad at me," Roderich said. His smile evaporated.

"No, I'm not."

"Don't lie to me."

Gilbert sighed and bit his lip. "Yes, a little bit."

"Gil, I'll make it up to you." Now Roderich was smirking. "Don't you want to…" He tugged lightly on the collar of Gilbert's shirt. "…come to bed?"

"Mmm, that does sound tempting," Gilbert said with a little laugh.

"Then come on."

Gilbert reached behind him and shut the door, then let Roderich pull him down onto the bed with him.

When Roderich finally pulled out of Gilbert, they collapsed together onto the mattress, facing each other, breathless and sweetly spent. They looked into each other's tired eyes, and they both laughed in blissful relief as they emerged from the haze of orgasm. Roderich took Gilbert's face in both his hands, pulled it in close, and kissed him softly a few times. There was a moment of aching silence. "But I really am sorry, Gilbert," the Austrian said at last. "Please forgive me…please…" Purple eyes were just as pleading as his voice.

There was something so startling and beautifully painful about how guilty Roderich looked, about how quickly he'd shifted from tired pleasure into quiet concern and sorrow. "Of course I forgive you," Gilbert said, finding Roderich's hand and lacing their fingers together. "But you're not the one who should be asking for forgiveness."

"Oh, Gilbert." Roderich gave the albino's hand a squeeze. "There was one thing I said yesterday that I did really mean. Things happened, and there's nothing we can do about them anymore. We can't change the past. I guess I'm just a little bit selfish, aren't I?" The smile returned to his face. He leaned in close, placed his lips next to Gilbert's ear, and whispered, "I just want you all to myself. That's selfish, isn't it?"

"Maybe so," Gilbert said. "But if it is, then I'm selfish too. I know I'd feel awful if I found out you were sleeping with…I don't know, Antonio, or that nurse Elizaveta, or…"

Roderich giggled – a sound Gilbert wished to hear so much more often than he did. If there were some sort of magical spell or formula he could use to make Roderich laugh, he'd hear his Austrian laugh all day, and just close his eyes and drink in that sweet sound – "Antonio? Elizaveta? Why them?"

"Geez, Roddy, it was just an example. The names aren't important. Point is, I'd feel the same way if I found out you'd been sleeping with anyone else but me." Gilbert paused for a moment to push sweaty chocolate-brown hair away from Roderich's forehead. "Oh, by the way, I picked up the suits."

"Took you long enough," Roderich said good-naturedly. "Wait…the suits…their rehearsal is today! Gil, we should get ready! We…"

Gilbert silenced Roderich with a kiss. "Keep your pants on, Little Master," he teased. "That's not til three. It's only noon now. We've got time."

Roderich let go of Gilbert's hand in favor of reaching up and flicking his nose. "I'm not wearing any pants right now, idiot. If you don't recall, you were the one who took them off."

"Ooh, look who doesn't get the joke," Gilbert shot back.

"But anyway, I suppose you are right. There's no rush," Roderich said coolly.

Gilbert gasped dramatically. "Mein Gott, Roderich, you just said I was right about something!"

"Just this once. Don't get used to it."

The rehearsal went smoothly without any major problems or complaints, with the exception of the occasional sarcastic remark from Lovino, which Francis sometimes had to counter with a joke or two. Afterwards, the entire group, including Ludwig and Feliciano's relatives, crammed into the pair's home so that Feliciano's mother, aunts, and grandmother could cook everyone a big, traditional Italian meal. There was barely room to move once the plethora of Italians made their way into the house – and for the same reason, there was barely room to think. Long strings of words spoken in loud, energetic Italian buzzed in the air. Ludwig had tried to book reservations at a restaurant, but Feliciano's mother would have none of it, and insisted upon making the dinner herself.

Roderich and Gilbert sat at a jammed table between Ludwig and Francis as they finished their meals. Roderich had been unusually quiet and a little pale-looking throughout dinner, but Gilbert had said nothing about it, figuring he might be getting a mild headache. The Austrian enjoyed the peace and quiet, preferring to spend time alone with Gilbert or with his piano rather than in a room full of people.

Once both of their plates were nearly clean, Roderich tugged on Gilbert's sleeve, leaned in close, and said quietly, "Gil, I hate to do this since it's your brother, but can we go home? I'm not feeling very well."

"Of course we can," Gilbert said with a soft smile. "I'm going to say good-bye to Ludwig. Why don't you get our jackets, and I'll meet you at the door?"

Roderich nodded and stood somewhat shakily. Gilbert placed a hand on his brother's shoulder to bid him farewell when he heard a dull thud from behind him.

Every head in the room turned. Every pair of eyes widened and stared.

Gilbert turned slowly to look behind him, almost horrified at what he might find. His worst fears were confirmed when he found Roderich passed out cold on the carpeted floor of the adjacent room.

As always, thanks for reading, and reviews are love :)

Oh, sorry I "skipped" the smut this time, but I think you got enough of that during the previous two chapters, and besides, it wasn't really as much of a plot point in this chapter as it was in the others.