Warnings: Language, sensitive subject, brief explicit material

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia

...

Chapter 15, Part 1

Gilbert stared at the door that closed behind his brother.

I should go after him.

Footsteps hurried, stumbling down the stairs.

Wait…

The front door swung open.

Don't go—

It slammed shut.

And Gilbert hadn't moved.

He pressed a hand to his lips. Lips that his brother's had just touched.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, simply staring, simply trying to comprehend.

Ludwig… How…

What just happened? Gilbert tried to rewind it in his mind. Ludwig running out the door. Ludwig—kissing him. Ludwig, crying, shaking, helpless, in so much pain Gilbert couldn't bear to watch. And all because… Ludwig wanted… him?

But how? Why? What did it mean? And only half an hour ago they'd been sitting side by side, perfectly normal, eating pancakes. Fucking pancakes. Now the cold breakfasts sat on their plates, syrup-drenched, half-eaten and forgotten on top of the bedspread. Gilbert stared at them. How could they be so, so normal?

Absent mindedly, he placed the plates on his bedside bureau.

But even when they had been eating pancakes together, so very ordinarily, things hadn't really been normal, had they? Even then, Ludwig had… had these feelings. And the night before when he had taken care of his plastered older brother who had stupidly, inexplicably, drunkenly kissed him—why am I such an idiot?—and then when they had slept in the same bed in their underwear for God's sake, and probably when they had shared a bed at the cabin too and probably at the Halloween party when Gilbert, stupid irresponsible Gilbert, had kissed his little brother for the first time and maybe when they'd masturbated to porn together or when they'd had the threesome with Kat or even before that too for who knows how long?

And now, suddenly, everything had come out, and it had happened so fast and there were a million things that Gilbert should have said but hadn't and Ludwig had run away from him and he was hurting so badly and God, he must hate him and what if he does something stupid I'm such a terrible brother, I'm the worst brother who ever lived—

A soft rap came at the door. Gilbert's heart leapt into his throat and for one hopeful moment he believed his little brother had come back, decided to give him another chance; but when a voice spoke from the hallway it was not Ludwig's.

"Can I come in?" Vash asked, the uncertainty in his voice an unusual change from his normally terse tone.

"Uh, y-yes!" Gilbert called, trying to sound calm, though it came out all wrong, too loud and high. He hurriedly wiped his face of any treacherous tear streaks that might have remained there. It suddenly struck Gilbert with considerable panic that Vash might have heard crying and raised voices from his room. He wasn't sure how well sound carried from upstairs.

The door opened a little, enough for Vash to stand at the doorframe, half in, half out of the room. "Ah, is everything alright? I just saw Ludwig run out the door, he… seemed upset."

"Oh, yeah," Gilbert said, trying to sound nonchalant as he looked down and pretended to be busy with something in a bedside drawer. He didn't trust his features to remain composed. "He'll get over it," he barely managed to get out. "Just… brother stuff, ya know."

There was a pause, but Gilbert didn't turn to look at his housemate. Then, "Ah. Well, if you're sure…" and then the door closed softly behind him.

'Brother stuff.' Lame. I'm so fucking lame.

An image of Ludwig, horrified, contrite, flashed across his mind. This kind of stuff should never happen to brothers.

I'm not lame. I'm horrible. And stupid. So, so stupid… How could I not have seen?

Gilbert stared remorsefully at the wall in front of him. Ludwig must be in such pain, and he couldn't stand that. He had to find him, he had to talk to him. Because he was responsible. He had caused this. He had been careless and reckless and done things an older brother should never do, and now Ludwig was paying the price for his stupidity. Ludwig was suffering because Gilbert hadn't set proper boundaries in their relationship, and had done inexcusable things when he was too intoxicated to tell the difference between his dear little brother and the next person. And Gilbert couldn't shake the feeling that if he had simply shown him a little more love, in a properly brotherly way, Ludwig wouldn't be craving such… physical closeness.

He was a failure. Just as he had always feared, he was no better at being an older brother and role model than he was at being a dutiful son.

His insides were in an icy grip, somewhere where heart and lungs and stomach all felt as one and were being constricted slowly, agonizingly. Who was he kidding? What could he do, what could he say, to make this better? Ludwig wouldn't want to see him. Ludwig wouldn't want to speak to him. He probably hated him. And rightly so. He deserved so much better than Gilbert. There was nothing Gilbert could do to make up for simply not being the brother he ought to be.

Suddenly, the one thing in Gilbert's life that he thought he could be sure of, the one thing he thought he might be good at, the one thing he knew he could always find happiness in, made him feel helpless, worthless. He had failed at being a brother.

…

It wasn't until a few hours later that Gilbert finally worked up the courage to walk to Ludwig's dorm. As much as he didn't want to face his brother, and as much as he was sure his brother didn't want to face him, it was only making him feel worse to sit cooped up in his room with nothing that could take his mind off of Ludwig.

And even if Gilbert was a terrible brother, he couldn't leave Ludwig alone to torment himself. He had to let him know he wasn't to blame. He had to at least try to show Ludwig that they could get past this, and promise him that he would try harder to be the brother he should be.

Gilbert found himself in front of Ludwig's suite door before he knew it. His feet had carried him to his destination automatically, but now that he had reached it, fear clenched his stomach once more. He wasn't sure he could bear to see his brother's pained face again.

Shakily, he forced himself to knock.

For several long seconds, there was nothing, and Gilbert almost hoped that no one was home and he wouldn't have to talk to Ludwig. But he loathed himself for it; if Ludwig wasn't there, who knew where he might be or what he might be doing? Gilbert felt sick with guilt at the thought.

But then there was some shuffling from inside and the door opened, only to reveal a short figure with dark hair and eyes rather than the tall blond he had been both hoping and dreading to see.

"Ah, Gilbert, hello," greeted Kiku politely, though Gilbert thought he could sense a tone of unease beneath the boy's perpetually serene mask. Did he know something? Had Ludwig spoken to him?

Gilbert swallowed. "Is my brother in?"

"Ah—no, he's… out."

Gilbert blinked. "…Oh." Kiku looked at him curiously and so he added quickly, "Uh, if you see him, could you… tell him to call me. I just, really need to talk to him." His face felt much too hot; he hoped it didn't show.

"Ah, yes, of course," Kiku said quickly.

There was an awkward silence. Then Gilbert nodded. "Okay, uh, thanks," he said, then turned and started walking automatically down the hall towards Matt's room as Kiku bobbed his head and closed the door.

Gilbert hoped his boyfriend, at least, would be in. He needed someone to talk to. And where was Ludwig? And God, what must he be thinking, feeling, now?

Gilbert considered trying to call his brother. He had almost done so before walking all the way to his dorm, but had chickened out at the thought of the potential awkwardness of speaking over the phone about such a serious matter. But now, he realized his options were diminishing. He pulled out his cell phone, quickly finding "Luddy" in his call history. He had to swallow down a large lump in his throat as he looked at the familiar nickname on the screen. With one shaking thumb, he pressed call, and held the phone to his ear.

He could hear it ringing on the other end. Once. Twice. Three times. A fourth time. And then his brother's voice; but it was only his voicemail recording, asking calmly for him to leave a message, and that he'd get back to him as soon as possible.

Liar. You're not going to call me back, are you?

Suddenly he realized the phone had already beeped and started recording. He made a small choked noise, trying to think of something to say, but his mind was completely frozen up. He quickly brought the phone down and pressed end. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled up his texts instead.

Gilbert stared at the blank screen for a while, before quickly writing Please call me. Please. He pressed send, pocketed the phone, and headed towards the RA's single.

When Matthew answered his door Gilbert's spirits lifted with relief, but sunk again just as quickly at the expression on his boyfriend's face.

Gilbert blinked. "Uh… something wrong?"

"Where have you been?" Matthew demanded, and there was a veiled anger in his quiet voice.

"What?" Gilbert asked, taken aback.

"Lunch."

Gilbert stared. "Um…"

Matt sighed and beckoned him in. He closed the door. "We were supposed to meet for lunch, remember?"

"…Oh. Oh! Right! I'm—I'm sorry, I… forgot." Not awesome, Gilbo. Sounding lame again.

"Apparently," Matt said glumly, his lower lip protruding in the kind of adorable pout that made Gilbert feel guilty as hell.

Gilbert grimaced. "Look, this morning has been—I've just been, really…"

"Hung over?"

He frowned. "No! Well, a little, but that was—that's not the point! I've just, things came up and… why didn't you call me?"

"Because maybe I didn't want to call you after being stood up for the second time in less than a day."

"Second time—what are you talking about?"

"Last night! Last night, Gilbert, when you left me at that party with people you know a lot better than me after trying to give me a blow job on the table in front of them all! It was humiliating! And I didn't know where you were, and I was drunk and confused and got sick all over Tino and Berwald's kitchen counter!" Matt paused suddenly, as if catching himself from his sudden outburst. His chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths and his eyes were filled with anger and hurt.

Gilbert was speechless. This was the last thing he had expected, and the last thing he needed. He had forgotten lunch, it was true, but he had a pretty good excuse in his opinion, and one slip-up like that wasn't something to cry over. But this wasn't about lunch, Gilbert realized; it was about the night before, when once again he had acted irresponsibly, thoughtlessly, and ended up hurting someone he cared about.

His lips twisted in a guilty grimace. But still, this wasn't fair. Matthew had been almost as drunk as him last night, and he had no idea what Gilbert had been through today. He ought to give him the benefit of the doubt rather than pouncing on one missed lunch date. "Look, Ludwig came and dragged me home—and you were too drunk to notice!" Ludwig. The name sent a searing pain through his chest.

"I was not nearly as drunk as you, Gilbert! You were out of control! And don't use your brother as an excuse. Don't drag him into this. He's a good kid—way more responsible than you at least. How'd that happen?"

Gilbert felt like he had been punched in the chest. When he managed to speak again he was trembling. "Don't. Don't talk to me about my brother," he said slowly, nearly choking on the words.

"Why?" Matt challenged. "You could learn a thing or two from him!"

"Why don't you date him instead, then?" he shot back.

"Don't be ridiculous, Gil! This isn't about him, it's about you and me!"

"Well then I'm sorry! I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry that I've been so fucking stressed that I wanted to blow a bit of steam at a party, and I'm sorry that so much shit has been going on in my life that I forgot one lunch date! Okay? Happy?"

"No, Gilbert I'm not! I'm not happy! If so much stuff is going on why don't you talk to me? I know you're stressed! Believe me, I know! I know that you haven't been eating right, I've noticed that you've lost weight, and I haven't seen you that drunk in a long time! But every time I try to ask you what's going on, you change the subject! I'm your boyfriend, Gilbert. Just—talk to me!"

"I—" Gilbert paused, swallowed. "I can't," he choked out.

Matt's mouth set in a thin line. "Well. That gets us real far, Gilbert. What is it, don't you trust me?"

"Of course I—"

"Then what is it? If you trust me what's the issue?"

Gilbert looked away guiltily.

Matthew sighed. "I know… I know we haven't been dating that long, but, it's just that… well, I guess I always thought that's what being with someone was for. They're supposed to be there for you, but I can't do that if you won't tell me what's wrong," he finished quietly.

There was a long silence in which neither of them looked at the other. Finally Gilbert spoke. "I… I was wondering if, if you wanted to come over tonight…" he trailed off, looking at his feet, not daring to hope the suggestion might make things better.

Matt continued staring at the opposite wall. "I can't. I'm RA on duty tonight." He didn't sound particularly apologetic.

"Oh. Okay." Gilbert hesitated awkwardly, wondering if he should just leave. He felt awful. Everything was so confused with Ludwig, but he thought that Matt, at least, was something sure, something comforting. But now there was a terrible leaden weight in his chest. "I, um… We'll talk later, yeah?"

Matthew seemed to let out another slight sigh. He nodded.

Gilbert paused once more, looking at his boyfriend's disappointed face. He almost said 'I'm sorry,' but caught himself and left the room quickly.

Gilbert walked down the hall with purpose, because if he walked too slowly he was afraid he might come to a point where it simply wasn't worth it to put one foot in front of the other anymore. When he reached his brother's door, however, he had to stop. He stared at the door a while, considering. Could Ludwig have come back while Gilbert was with Matt? He almost tried knocking again, but stopped. If Ludwig wanted to talk to him, he would call him, like Gilbert had asked.

And Gilbert hoped he would call soon.

An acute sadness gripped him as he stood looking at his brother's door. He turned away and headed to the stairwell, taking heavy step after heavy step down, down.

He didn't understand. He couldn't understand. Dear little Luddy, sweet, quiet, shy, polite Luddy, wanted… wanted to…

He could hardly even think it. His feet stopped moving. He closed his eyes.

He wants to… have sex with me.

Something clenched uncomfortably in Gilbert's stomach. The mere thought of touching his little brother that way… Ludwig found that appealing? He really wanted Gilbert's touch? To lie naked, sweaty, on tangled sheets?

Gilbert supposed, in all honesty, that Ludwig was quite handsome. Hot, some would say. In fact he had long been envious of his brother's looks. In childhood it had often been a cause of jealousy. When Ludwig was little, people always commented on what a gorgeous, cute little boy he was. Gilbert didn't ever remember that happening to him. But his instinct to protect and mentor as an older brother had prevailed and he had buried those feelings deep within himself.

But they were still there, even now. And when he thought of Ludwig's blond locks, cool blue eyes, athletic stature, skin barely kissed by sun, he was filled with a keen longing. But it was not lust. It was the longing of a painter after the purest form of beauty. It was the longing of one condemned to love, when hate would be so much easier.

When Gilbert had told Ludwig that he had thought of having sex with him, all he meant was that a brief mental image had entered his head. It was hard not to picture such things when the word "incest" was mentioned. When Gilbert had discovered his predilection for twins, of course he had given it some thought, to try to understand what it was exactly that those performers were doing. And he did feel guilty for liking their performance.

But the fleeting picture of him and his brother entwined on a bed, or even the simple thought of their mouths and tongues melding together, simply felt so wrong. But Ludwig didn't feel the same. And suddenly these images were so disorienting, because he could no longer take their rejection for granted. Because Ludwig didn't.

Gilbert looked down at his phone. He hesitated, then called Ludwig's number, but his brother's phone was off. He pocketed his own in frustration.

He's avoiding me.

Gilbert didn't have anywhere to go, so he headed towards his house again. He hardly noticed the familiar facades of campus buildings passing by as he walked, thinking bitter thoughts. Did Ludwig hate him so much as to not want to speak to him? Why? What had he done wrong? And what had he done to deserve Matt's outburst? It was uncalled for. Matt was overreacting, being oversensitive, really. Matt ought to be the one to apologize.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that Gilbert didn't hear his name until the second time it was called.

"Gil?"

He jumped slightly and looked up to see two nervous green eyes looking back at him. It was Antonio.

Gilbert stiffened. He hadn't spoken to his once-friend since delivering him several punches on his brother's behalf.

Ludwig again. Why does everything connect to him?

"Ah, Gil, glad I ran in to you… I was actually hoping we could talk some time…" Toni attempted a smile.

Gilbert's eyes narrowed. "Now's not a good time."

"Look, Gil, I know you're angry at me—"

"Angry? That's an understatement."

"Hey, would you give my boyfriend a chance to speak?" Bella had appeared at Antonio's side.

Gilbert glared at her. "What, you still dating this rapist?"

Antonio flinched. Bella fumed. "Don't call him that!"

"Gil, look, I know I did something wrong—"

"Oh? Ya think? You have no idea how much you've fucked things up, Toni. Not a fucking clue!"

Toni grimaced again.

"At least he's trying to have a civil conversation! More than I can say of you!"

"You stay out of this, okay?" Gilbert jabbed his finger in Bella's direction. "This has nothing to do with you!"

"Nothing to do with me? How can you say that? He's my boyfriend, and you're making some pretty serious accusations!"

"Oh I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that they were only 'pretty serious.'"

Antonio laid a hand on his girlfriend's arm. "Bella, let's not do this now."

"Oh look at you, trying to be so sensible. 'Bella, let's not do this now,'" Gilbert mocked spitefully.

"You know what? Fuck you!" Bella hurled back.

"'Fuck you!'" he parroted in a girly voice.

Toni tried to pull her away, but she turned back one more time to point a finger furiously at Gilbert. "You—you have problems, Gilbert Beilschmidt! Major problems, and I feel sorry for you." With that she stormed off, pulling a bewildered Antonio behind.

Gilbert glared after them for a moment, then suddenly realized the little scene had drawn the attention of several onlookers. He stalked off defiantly, as if daring anyone to judge him. But he could still feel their stares on his back as he walked away.

What do they know? They don't know anything! No one understands anything! God, they all probably fucking hate me. Ludwig, Matt, Toni—well, I don't give a fuck about Toni. But Bella—what did I ever do to her? But she probably hated me all along. Didn't even give me a fucking chance. No one ever gives me a fucking chance!

When he reached his house, he slammed the front door by accident, then stomped up the stairs. He met a surprised Elizaveta at the top.

"Gil! Is everything okay?"

"Does it fucking look okay?" he growled as he brushed past.

She raised her eyebrows. "Hey, calm down man."

He spun on her. "Don't tell me to calm down. You have no fucking clue what you're talking about, alright?"

"Well, I can't really have a clue if you won't tell me what's going on, can I?"

"God, why does everyone feel like I should just spill my soul out to them? Just, stop sticking your nose in my business!"

"Hey, I'm just trying to help!"

Gilbert could feel the anger boiling up inside of him. He was aware of it, and a small part of him, detached and observant, was sending him a warning. It wasn't Elizaveta's fault, he was just in an emotionally fragile state and his nerves were fraying. He always knew it when he was getting this way, and yet he could never seem to help it. It was just too easy, too easy to let loose and say all the things some piece of him had always wanted to say, even if he knew they weren't true, even if he didn't really believe them. It felt to good to say what he knew would wound, infuriate.

"Well you're not, okay? You don't help, you just pry and you know what? It's really fucking annoying! Maybe I don't want to tell you! Jesus Christ, no wonder I broke up with you."

"What the fuck, Gilbert? You know, first of all, I'm the one who wanted to break up, and you know what, this is exactly why! You just, don't know what's good for you! Maybe people would like you more if you didn't try to bite their heads off when they're being nice to you."

"Well I wanted to break up with you anyway! Don't know how Mr. Priss puts up with a nosy judgmental bitch like you."

Elizaveta blinked. Her mouth dropped open. "…What? What did you call me?"

"I called you a bitch. A nosy judgmental and oh yeah, oversensitive bitch. Does that bother you? 'Cause I coulda said somethin' a lot worse. Bitch, bitch, bitch."

He barely registered her raised hand before it was slapping him across the face.

Gilbert touched the stinging mark on his cheek in shock. "You—you—fucking bitch!"

"I will slap you again Gilbert Beilschmidt, unless you apologize this instant!"

"What in the world is going on here?" Roderich had emerged from his room down the hall, looking between them like a teacher catching two naughty children.

Gilbert pointed at Elizaveta. "She—she slapped me!"

"He called me a bitch!" Elizaveta pointed back.

Roderich frowned at Gilbert. "Did you call my girlfriend a bitch?"

"She deserved it!"

"He deserved it!"

"Gilbert, that's not acceptable! Apologize this instant!"

"Who died and put you in charge, prick? Jesus, somethin' crawl up your ass and die there? What is with you people?" Gilbert angrily shoved past Roderich and slammed his door in their faces before they could follow. There was banging at the door.

"Gilbert, you are being incredibly immature!"

"Open the fuck up! Open up or I will slap you twice next time I see you!"

"Elizaveta, that's not helping."

"Jesus fucking Christ I am so furious with you Gilbert Beilschmidt!"

"Come on, he'll come out eventually. Let him have his little temper tantrum."

You think this is a little temper tantrum? "FUCK YOU!" Gilbert hurled from the other side of the door.

"Right back at you bastard!" That was Elizaveta.

Their footsteps retreated down the hall.

Gilbert felt like punching the wall. But he had just enough sense to know that would hurt, so he punched his pillow instead and collapsed on his bed.

For a split second he thought he'd like to talk to Ludwig—his brother always made him feel better in these situations—but then he remembered he couldn't. Because Ludwig hated him. And wanted to sleep with him. Is that a contradiction? Maybe he wants to hate-fuck me. Gilbert gave a harsh bark of laughter, but it was humorless. God, I'd deserve it.

He turned his head and noticed the plates of cold pancakes still on the bureau. Suddenly he couldn't stand it anymore, and he burst into tears.

Ludwig, Ludwig… The words half reached his lips as he sobbed into his pillow.

A coil of barbed wire was wrapping tighter and tighter around his insides. He wanted, so badly, worse than he had ever wanted anything, for everything to just be alright between them again. Because at the moment nothing was alright with anyone. But if he could just have Ludwig back, even Ludwig and no one else…

Ludwig… I love you so much, so much, please…

…

Holed up in his room, Gilbert continued to try to reach his brother till evening. Once he was done crying he lay on his bed in a stupor, automatically pressing call every once in a while. Each time he heard the voice mail response it made him a bit more depressed.

Finally he gave up and tossed his phone on the bed, and for the first time noticed how hungry he was. But he didn't really feel like venturing out of his room lest Elizaveta give him the two promised slaps.

Because she hated him now, and perhaps had never really liked him, just like everyone else.

He tried picking at that morning's pancakes, but then found he had no more appetite.

Eventually he made the half-hearted decision to call his boyfriend, though he was pretty sure Matt didn't want to talk to or see him either.

"Can I… see you tonight?" he asked tentatively over the phone nevertheless. He didn't know what he might do if he couldn't find someone to distract him, someone to talk to. Even though Matthew was pissed at him there wasn't anyone else he could think to try.

"Can't, I'm on duty," Matt reminded him, tone bland.

"…Oh, yeah."

"…I mean, I don't know, I guess you could come over here, though I might have to run off at some point. So, you know, we couldn't really do anything. But if you just want to come sleep in my room…"

"Yeah! I mean, sure. Yeah. I'll come over to your place."

"Okay."

"Um, eleven-ish?"

"Sure, that works."

"Okay. Uh, see you later."

Matthew hung up without saying goodbye. Gilbert sighed. At least he would see him later. It might be uncomfortable after their argument, but it was better than nothing.

By the time it was almost eleven he was beginning to worry, though. Ludwig still hadn't called. Where could he be? What was he doing? Nothing stupid, he hoped. Usually Gilbert was the one who got into bad situations, but he had been surprised in the past by his little brother's emotional stupidity in a few matters. He tended to beat himself up. In that way, Gilbert supposed, perhaps they weren't so different.

He stopped and knocked at Ludwig's door again on his way to Matthew's room, but there was no one home. Or at least no one answering the door, thought Gilbert spitefully. He briefly considered trying Feliciano's phone—Ludwig might be with him—but decided he didn't want Feliciano to catch drift of their family strife if he could help it. It was always difficult to tell how much the seemingly oblivious boy really perceived.

He just hoped his brother was okay.

Tired and worn, Gilbert finally made it to his boyfriend's single.

"Hey," he greeted when Matt opened the door, hoping to defuse the atmosphere.

"Hey," Matt responded quietly. They stood awkwardly for a moment before Matt stepped back and Gilbert shuffled in.

The RA ran his hand through his wavy hair and Gilbert's stomach tightened with longing. It was such a simple gesture, but Gilbert was very fond of it. He wished he could reach out and do the same with his boyfriend's smooth locks, but the situation sadly wouldn't allow it.

"So," Matt began with a sigh. "Um, I'm gonna basically get right to bed, because I could get a call at any time… Sorry, I have to have the phone on high just in case. But, you're welcome to sleep here." He gestured vaguely to the bed.

"Yeah, thanks. Um…" He figured it had to be said some time. "Sorry about today… just, I've been, stressed… well, you know. Uh, yeah. Sorry," he finished lamely.

Matt nodded, though he didn't seem to think it was the best apology he'd ever heard. "Yeah, I know. I just wish you'd talk to me."

Gilbert shifted uncomfortably. "Mm-hm. Well, I'm tired now, though… should just, get to bed…"

Matt sighed. They weren't getting anywhere today. "Yeah, okay."

Gilbert stripped to his boxers and settled into bed as Matthew brushed his teeth and changed into his usual pajama pants and t-shirt. The thought struck Gilbert that it would be nice to have sex. Good stress-reliever. Get his mind off things. He wondered if Matthew would agree to it. Maybe he could convince him that makeup sex was what they needed.

As Matt slipped under the covers Gilbert snuggled up close to him and put an arm around him. He started rubbing small circles on Matt's chest and stomach suggestively.

"Ngh, stop moving," Matthew muttered.

Gilbert stopped, and tried kissing his neck instead. Matt grunted in response. Gilbert pursed his lips and tried a longer, more sensual kiss that went down to his shoulder. Surely, that would let Matt know he was in the mood.

Matthew sighed, but it wasn't in pleasure. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yes," Gilbert responded teasingly. He leaned over and kissed him. God, his lips were soft. And how did Matt always taste so good?

Matt hummed a little as they pulled apart. "I see."

"Let's have sex."

Another sigh. "Gil, I can't. I have to be ready to go at a moment's notice."

"Oh come on, please?"

"Not tonight."

"But I want you so bad. Don't you want some of this awesomeness?" To emphasize his point he pressed his hips to Matt's backside and let him feel the small lump that was forming in his boxers. Matt jumped a little.

"Jeez Gil, when are you not horny?" he asked, reddening.

"Hey."

"Serioulsy though, not tonight." He scooted away a little.

Gilbert grumbled and settled back on the pillow with a vague discomfort in his crotch.

But he couldn't sleep. His thoughts kept returning to Ludwig, and what he might be doing at this moment. He almost considered doing a systematic search of the campus for him, but that would get him nowhere fast in all likelihood. He could be anywhere. And so his thoughts went for hours.

Matthew was snoring softly when the RA on duty phone went off. Groggily, he stumbled from the room muttering something to Gilbert about being back in a bit and someone getting their stomach pumped and fucking Saturdays.

Gilbert waited, still trying unsuccessfully to sleep. He missed the solid warmth of Matt's body next to his, so he shifted over to occupy the spot on the mattress he had heated up. What seemed like a long time later, Matthew returned.

"Everything okay?" Gilbert asked as he sunk back into bed.

"Yeah, it'll be fine. Some freshman was throwing up all over the place, that's all."

"Mm." He tried reaching for Matthew's side and rubbing it sympathetically. He nuzzled in for a kiss, making sure to stroke his thumb over his hip bone. "Sure you don't wanna have sex?" he murmured. "Would help you relax," he added, slipping his hands inside Matthew's shirt and tracing lightly over his chest.

This time, Matthew responded. Reluctantly at first, but then more enthusiastically. They were getting hot and heavy, with their hands down each other's pants, and then Matthew slipped under the covers and pulled Gilbert's dick out. Gilbert held his breath in anticipation and gasped slightly when the wet heat engulfed his member, sending pleasurable surges of warmth singing to his stomach.

"Aww, yeah, Mattie… that's so g—"

Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

Gilbert shot up. That was his phone. It hadn't gone off all day.

Matt's head popped out from the covers too. "Just ignore it; you're not the one on duty," he said with a frown.

"No, I…" Gilbert started distractedly. He shuffled away from his boyfriend and off the bed.

"Seriously? I'm giving you head and you go to check your texts?"

"Might be important." He rummaged through his pile of clothes and reached into his pants pocket to retrieve his phone. He looked at it and froze.

"Come on, come back to bed, Gil. I thought you were the one who wanted to have sex."

"I—have to go." Suddenly he was scrambling to throw his clothes back on.

"What?" Matt squawked. "Wait a sec—what's going on?"

"I'll—tell you later."

"No, now! Tell me now, Gil! What's happening?"

"I can't, I have to go—"

"Just tell me!"

"I can't!" Gilbert looked at him helplessly for a moment, then returned to his frenzied movements to collect his things.

"Well that's great. Just fantastic, Gilbert. You know what? Fine, go! If you're not going to ever tell me a single fucking thing then maybe I don't want to hear it!"

Gilbert cringed a little, but didn't allow himself to think about it too much. He couldn't stop and process anything right now other than the matter at hand, and that was the message he had just received.

"I'm sorry!" he pleaded, heading towards the door.

"Sorry doesn't cut it! Just, don't go! Gilbert, don't walk out that door!" Matthew yelled in a desperate warning.

They looked at each other for one tense moment before Gilbert found his voice.

"I'm sorry," was all he managed before turning away and slipping out of the room.

"I just can't believe you! I really can't!" Matthew called after him, furious and saddened.

Gilbert felt terrible.

But as soon as he was out in the hall he ran for the stairs.

He had to hurry. He had to find Francis.

...

A/N: I am so sorry to have kept you waiting for this for so long. It was finals, then move-out, then packing for travel, then travelling, so I've had hardly any time to write the past month, sadly. Now that it's summer I will try to keep the updates more regular though! I know I am very behind in responding to a lot of you too, but I will get around to it soon. Sorry!

Anyway, I hope seeing a little something from Gilbert's POV is interesting, as many of you have asked about that-does it make up for the lateness? Maybe? A little? Well, I'd love to hear what you think. I hope he doesn't seem OOC since it's such and emotional chapter ^^;

Next part: Ludwig's side of the story.

Next chapter: My lips are sealed.