Warning: Nazism discussion

It's been half a month since Ludwig arrived to München. The moment he arrived, his older brother and grandfather started to tell him about the company's state.

Due to Germany's economic crisis lots of business went down. Business that had agreements with their company. And now that they closed it was affecting them, to the point of having to dismiss a lot of people.

His grandfather looked really guilty about it. In fact, he felt so guilty about it that he sent the dismissed people enough money for a family of four to survive for the next three months besides their monetary liquidation.

"Oi, Ludwig" his older brother called him "Could you just tell me how Italy was? You keeping it like it's a secret or something"

They both were at Ludwig's bedroom, with the owner sitting at a desk while typing some things on a typewriter. Gilbert was laying down on the blond's bed behind him.

"Why are you so interested, anyways?" the student replied with a question.

Not even him understood quite well why he didn't feel like talking about his staying in Italia. He still had, sometimes, dreams about that warm country, the warm city of Venezia, and the warm Italian people.

And, of course, dreams of his beloved Feliciano.

"Because you're being so sneaky about it!" the albino complained with a grunt "It feels like you aren't telling me something" he then sat on the bed.

"Don't be ridiculous. I only went there to study and that's what I did. Nothing else"

"Are you sure you didn't do someone else?" a big wide smirk was on Gilbert's face. He started to cackle when Ludwig got silent "Oh, my God! It's true!"

"Sta 'zitto! Ovviamente no!" Ludwig yelled at his brother while turning his face to him, revealing his red bright face. Huh, it seems that in Germany he talks Italian whenever embarrassed. This only caused Gilbert to laugh harder.

"Don't go Italian on me, West! I don't know shit about that"

"I traveled to Italia to go to college and that's what I did!" he resumed his typing with an angry force.

"Geez, I'm only messing with you, calm down" the red-eyed stood up and patted Ludwig's shoulder "I guess Italy must be pretty boring, then, too bad"

With that last sentence, Gilbert went out of the blond's bedroom to leave him alone finally.

It didn't surprise him that Gilbert, and even his grandfather, were so curious about Italia because it's been so long since they had traveled there. But he just didn't feel like talking about it. It, honestly, still hurts to remember. Ludwig stopped his typing and stood up, walking towards the nightstand besides his bed and opening the drawer. The black leather sketchbook was there. He picked it up and after sitting on the bed, he started to pass the pages slowly. Little drawings of his face and Venezia started to show up in front of his blue eyes.

That must be like the millionth time he had checked the little book since his arrival. He now understood why Feliciano had sketched so many different things in there; it was because he wanted Ludwig to have something to remember Italia. The people, the food, the buildings, and everything else.

It just lacked of something, though.

It didn't have any portrait of Feliciano.

A sigh escaped his lips at the idea. Ludwig never thought of it because his head was so full of different things at the moment. And the present itself was a sudden surprise from Feliciano. He let himself lay down on the bed, with his feet still on the floor and the sketchbook on his chest.

What could possibly be Feliciano doing? He checked his watch. It marked 6 PM, so Feliciano was probably having dinner. Maybe he went to dine to Abrielle's, or maybe he decided to cook something. Is Feliciano living at his old apartment as he asked him to? What if he decided to go away like he said? To south Italia to visit his family.

Another sigh was heard from him.

He had felt antsy since a week or so because he had been thinking about the possibility of writing Feliciano a letter. The temptation was pretty strong he must admit, but it wasn't a bright idea to do it right now. He didn't want his grandfather nor older brother to start asking questions - he had enough of that at the moment - about this "mysterious pen pal" of his. And he was sure he couldn't give an honest answer to them. He couldn't because he was afraid.

Not because of his family's judgement, he was pretty sure that neither of them would judge him in a hard way. But afraid of breaking down in front of them. He had came back from Italia as a force, as strength, for them to be together as a family and overcome any obstacle in their way.

But, to be honest, he didn't feel so strong at the moment.

That annoying stingy pain in his heart came back right through his chest. He remembered what he felt that time when he had thought Feliciano had disappeared from his life at Venezia. Would it be like this from now on? Was Ludwig willing to bear such a pain for the rest of his life? It actually felt worse than that time. Surely because he knew that the artist was feeling the same pain as him, surely because he knew the Italian also loved him just the way he loved the brunette.

Hot tears threatened to fall down from his blue eyes so he closed them. His hands clenched the sketchbook's borders and a painful knot in his throat was suppressing his voice from coming out. Better that way, though, because he had no voice but sobs and gasps to offer to the emptiness of the room. So he gulped hard as if he was trying to devour the knot along with his despair.

Maybe - and just maybe - it wasn't a good idea to keep alive the memory of that summer on the floating city of Venezia.

Maybe - and just maybe - it wasn't a good idea to keep alive this barren hope.

Maybe - and just maybe - he should forget about Feliciano.

A soft knock at his door brought him back to his senses. He dropped the sketchbook over the bed and then walked towards the entrance of his room, opening the door. An old maid that immediately smiled at him was in there. Her name was Jolanda.

"Young Sir" she said with her frail voice "The dinner is ready and the Sir is already waiting for you"

"Yes, Jolanda, thank you. I'll be there in a moment" as he finished talking, the maid bowed and excused herself. Ludwig closed the door again.

He went and put the sketchbook over the desk. It was a surprise to him that neither his grandfather nor his brother Gilbert had asked about the artist he mentioned in his last letter. Maybe they were too busy taking care of the company to ask for such minor details. It was better this way, in any case.

He left his room and went to dine.

Gilbert and his grandfather were already at the table. Grandfather was obviously at the head of the it with the albino at his right. They were talking about something so deeply they didn't notice when the blond entered the room.

"... I tell you, old man, that new politics movement won't bring anything good for the country" the red-eyed said with an annoyed face.

"I also don't believe it's the right choice" the old man replied as Ludwig sat down to his left side "It's what I would call an extremist choice. But it's just a small group against a whole country, we shouldn't worry much"

"What are you talking about?" the blond questioned as a waitress served him some light beer.

"You know that party called Deutsche Arbeiterpartei, right?" grandfather replied and the young man nodded "Well, it changed its name to Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei because of this new leader that got elected some months ago"

"The little shit is an extremist" Gilbert added while picking a piece of steak with his fork.

"Indeed, Gilbert" the old man nodded "He has this… logic… about the Jewish people being an inferior race. He doesn't even have scientific bases to state such an atrocious thing" his grandfather had a disgusted face. That meant that the whole idea really put him off "But, as I was saying to your brother, Ludwig, it's a small group with baseless facts" he shrugged it off with a smile while cutting some baked potato on his dish "Anyone with common sense would agree that it's just a group of extremists"

"I hope so" Gilbert said "The fucker doesn't even like the idea of a democracy. Germany would go to shit if that party ever gains power"

"Don't worry so much, Gilbert" the old man said lastly and then looked at the blond man "By the way, Ludwig, would you mind going to downtown? To the post office. I need you to send some letters"

"Why don't you send the messenger?" the albino asked.

"He called in sick for the day. So, Ludwig, could you?"

"Of course, grandfather" he then drank a bit of his beer to hide his sudden excitement. This meant he could write a quick letter to Feliciano and send it with the just obtained excuse.

After dinner, Ludwig accompanied his grandfather to his study.

"Here you have, Ludwig" the old man gave him a bunch of letters "The majority are business related, but one it's for your cousin Roderich, actually"

"What is the occasion?" the blond asked as he flipped the envelopes until finding the one with his cousin's name.

"He recently got married" he replied while grabbing a piece of paper from the desk "He sent a letter giving us the news with a picture" he then grabbed something else from the desk, surely the photo, and gave it to the young man.

The photo showed his cousin Roderich with a young woman to his side. The woman had light hair and light eyes, with a flower adorning her head. It had been a while since last time they had met.

"Her name is Elizabeta Héderváry, she's from Hungary" the old man walked to a framed map of Europe that was hanging in the wall "Can you believe it? Even if Austria and Hungary are neighbor countries, it sounds out of a romantic novel, right?" his eyes looked at Ludwig "In the letter, Roderich says they met when she was traveling at his city" a chuckle escaped from his lips "If she was traveling alone, that must mean that she's a strong woman" he moved his index finger as an admonition, but his smile persisted "Just what Roderich needed, though"

"Is this everything, then?"

"Yes, Ludwig, you may go. Ask the chauffeur to take you"

But instead of going to the lobby Ludwig detoured his way towards his room. Sat down at the desk and started to write quickly.

Feliciano:

How are you? I don't even know if you continue to live at the apartment and yet I decided to send you this letter in hopes of reaching you.

It's been only a month away from you and I'm already feeling your absence.

Wow, that surely was corny and cheesy, but he still proceeded.

Things at München are as always. The politics are a mess and the economic situation isn't bright. Besides the weather is colder than Italia's.

His eyes momentarily diverted to the closed sketchbook next to him.

I miss Italia, I miss Venezia, but mainly I miss you.

I still dream of you, Feliciano.

With love.

Ludwig Beilschmidt

He then remembered his cousin and his wife.

PD: Would you mind, if you want and can, send me a picture of you?

He could feel his cheeks burning with blood in embarrassment. He was glad he was alone in the room so no one would witness him like this. After putting his own letter on an envelope, he went to the lobby and asked for the driver.

An hour later, Ludwig was again back at home. Feeling a lot better than before now that had made the first move to keep in contact with the love of his life. Even if he didn't know if he was doing the right thing. Even if he didn't know if he was taking the right decision. The sole idea of receiving a letter from the artist made his heart flutter with excitement.

When he was about to open the door to his room, it opened by itself revealing his albino brother behind it. The older man looked flustered the moment he met the blond.

"Did you need me for something, Gilbert?" Ludwig asked.

"Oh! No! For nothing, really!" was it Ludwig's imagination or the man didn't look at him in the eyes? "I was just-" he cleared his throat "Uhm, wondering if you were back, that is"

"Ok, Gilbert. If you say so" and so he entered his room, leaving the albino behind the door.

How weird.

But that's just how his older brother is. So he just shrugged it off and sat at the desk to continue his typing for some more time before going to bed. It was then that he noted something different.

The sketchbook.

The sketchbook was moved from where he had placed it. It was now at the other side of the desk.

His mind traveled to just some seconds ago. To Gilbert and his odd behaviour.

His heart could have just stopped but Ludwig wouldn't had noticed because he was too busy thinking in panic.

Shit.

The "Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei" is what nowadays we know and call as the NAZI party.