Prelude

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In the months she had known Ludwig – the real Ludwig – Irina eventually came to know about his long-held yearning he had for a certain Italian. Ludwig never spoke of Feliciano outright – only mentioned him when Irina pestered him with too many questions. But from Ludwig's answers, Irina felt sure of one thing: Ludwig's affection was most likely one-sided. She knew enough about men – having blindly pined after a few and been the object of unreturned desires herself – to recognize unrequited love. She just never had the heart to tell him what he was experiencing was not true affection. It was misdirected desire. Lust. Irina gathered, from the way Ludwig talked, Feliciano was freer and open with his affections – however genial they were. Whereas Ludwig – God help him – was so guarded. So when Ludwig asked her to join them at the theater, Irina all but jumped at the chance – the chance to finally meet this Feliciano, and the chance to maybe (hopefully) put things to right, whichever way it fell (good or bad) between Ludwig and his Italian.

Irina stood just outside the movie theater – and could not help smirking as Ludwig and Feliciano drew near. Ludwig had been right about one thing: Feliciano certainly did like to walk close. Irina doubted she could have slipped a sheet of paper between them. She waved a hand, hailing Ludwig and Feliciano as they approached.

"Wow, Ludwig. You didn't tell me your friend was so pretty," Feliciano said in a voice loud enough for Irina to hear.

Ludwig felt his ears redden, but Irina had enough poise not to look overly flattered by Feliciano's words.

"I've already got the tickets," Irina said, holding out the stubs of paper.

"And she's so nice, too, buying our tickets!" Feliciano beamed.

"'She' has a name," Irina said teasingly. "It's 'Irina.'" She held out her hand, waiting for Feliciano to take it. But the Italian just stared at it, shoulders slightly hunched as if he had suddenly become shy.

Irina shared a look with Ludwig, and it struck him just then: for all of Feliciano's talk and posturing when it came to girls, Ludwig had never actually seen how he acted around one. Ludwig added this bashfulness to his mental checklist.

Feliciano eventually took Irina's hand, pressing his fingers gently to her palm. Irina locked her free arm around Ludwig's and gave Feliciano a wink and a grin. At this, the Italian seemed to brighten.

"Your girlfriend is funny, Ludwig!" Feliciano smiled, grasping Irina's hand more firmly, giving it an earnest shake.

Ludwig's brow dipped, uncertain of what to make of that statement. Sometimes, despite the fact Feliciano understood German, Ludwig felt they still spoke completely different languages.

Beside him, Irina was giggling. Ludwig gave her a quizzical look. "What?"

"You didn't hear what he said?" Irina muttered.

Ludwig continued to look blankly at her.

"He thinks we're dating!" she said. Then, turning to Feliciano, added: "Ludwig's not my boyfriend."

"Ah, but why not? You two look so good together!" Feliciano said, affecting a pout.

Ludwig felt his neck growing hot beneath his shirt collar. Thankfully, Irina managed to save him any further embarrassment.

"We did date for awhile," she said, shooting Ludwig a sideways glance. "We just…found out we get along better as friends."

"Ludwig!" Feliciano admonished playfully. "You never told me! Here I always thought you were afraid to speak to girls, but you had a girlfriend all along! What other secrets are you keeping from me?"

"Did you know he can sing?" Irina whispered conspiratorially.

Ludwig shot her a warning glare. Irina returned it with a look that seemed to say Trust me.

"You can sing!? What? No. Really?"

Ludwig looked at his feet, mortified.

Irina nodded. "I've heard Roderich giving him lessons a couple of times. He's really very good."

"Ah, see!" Feliciano beamed. "I always said you had a nice voice, Ludwig. You'll have to sing for me sometime."

"Yeah. You will," Irina said, giving Ludwig a significant look.

Ludwig shuffled his feet, mumbled something about them missing the start of the movie.

"Oh, right! I had nearly forgotten!" Feliciano exclaimed. "C'mon. Let's see if we can get seats in the balcony!" He grabbed Ludwig's hand and all but dragged the tall blonde through the front entrance, Irina trailing behind in her heeled shoes.

Ludwig had never been much of a moviegoer – having maybe seen a grand total of five in his lifetime, the last one being Metropolis with Gilbert and Roderich. Still, he didn't remember the seats being so narrow – or so close. He had to keep his long legs drawn up to keep them from knocking painfully into the balcony wall. His knees were practically touching his chin. And his arms and shoulders weren't faring much better. Irina had purposely positioned herself so that Ludwig would be between herself and Feliciano – which Ludwig had no qualms with. At first. But now, as he sat hunched in his seat, scrunching his limbs together to keep them from taking over Irina and Feliciano's space, Ludwig seriously began to regret their arrangement. Until Feliciano patted his knee and whispered: "Why do you look so tense, Ludovico? Relax. It's just a movie."

And Ludwig did, slouching in his seat, his knee and shoulder bumping Feliciano's. Ludwig held his breath a moment, unsure if the Italian would balk at the contact, but Feliciano simply turned to him and smiled, his face lit up by the silver glow of the movie screen. Ludwig smiled back and together they turned back and watched the movie.

If Ludwig could have relived that afternoon over and over again, he would have. After the movie ended, Ludwig and Irina walked Feliciano home. Discussion moved from the movie to Marlene Dietrich to Feliciano's work. They laughed. They joked. Easy and free. And Ludwig, spurred on by either the warm weather or carefree company or a general feeling of good humor, even sang "Die Fesche Lola" from Der Blaue Engel, the movie they had just seen.

Feliciano clapped. "Oh wow! You do have a wonderful voice, Ludwig!"

"Thank you," Ludwig grinned, taking a bow.

Irina smiled and Feliciano laughed.

"Hey!" the Italian exclaimed. "You remember – that one time – you remember, Ludwig!"

"Remember what?" Ludwig asked, suddenly dubious.

Feliciano struggled to catch a breath between fits of laughter. "Remember – when we – backstage – you got dressed up – and you looked like – like – Marlene!"

Ludwig's ears burned red. Why did he have to bring that up now?

"Yes. I remember," Ludwig bit out. "And I'd like to forget – "

"You never told me that," Irina said.

"What?"

"That you – " Irina looked around, lowering her voice – "dressed up in drag."

Ludwig clenched his jaw, running a hand over his face. His earlier desire to relive the afternoon was rapidly waning. He should not have sung that stupid song….

"What of it?" Ludwig growled.

Irina shrugged, about to answer, when Feliciano cut her off: "I wish you could have seen him! He looked so good – not that he ever doesn't – but still, I don't know too many guys who make a good looking girl."

"Really?" Irina said. She looked from Feliciano to Ludwig. And there was something in her voice that Ludwig could not quite place – something between curious and incredulous. But before he could further evaluate what Irina had said, and the look she had given him, they had arrived outside of Feliciano's building.

"That was fun," the Italian smiled. "We need to do it again! It was nice to meet you, Irina." He took her hand and planted a swift kiss on the back. "Maybe I can steal you away from Ludwig." Feliciano winked up at the tall blonde, but Ludwig did not return the friendly intimation. His face had darkened from embarrassed to infuriated. He glared after Feliciano as the Italian bounded away.

"…Ludwig?" Irina began, placing a tentative hand on his arm.

Ludwig jerked away. "Why does he always do that?" he fumed under his breath.

Irina swallowed, pressing her lips together. Now was as bad a time as ever to tell Ludwig she thought his efforts were in vain. But at the stricken look on his face, she found herself unable to speak – until Ludwig rounded on her.

"Well?" he demanded. "What did you think?"

Irina started. "I…" she began, still too shocked to speak. Irina shook her head. It was time for the truth – whether he listened to it or not. "Ludwig…I think…I mean, I don't think Feliciano likes you the same way you do him."

Ludwig's eyes narrowed. "You're just saying that because he kissed your hand. Said you were pretty and nice. But it was fake. I mean, he was obviously doing it for show. He was afraid to even shake your hand – "

Irina shook her head. "I think I just intimidated him. Because I speak my mind. He didn't know what to make of me at first." Irina closed her eyes a moment, as if to collect herself before continuing. "But, Ludwig, even if…even if you were a girl," she said in a rush, remembering what Feliciano had just told her regarding Ludwig dressed in drag, "I don't think he would like you the same way you like him. That's just – being open like that – it's just his personality."

Irina bit her lip, ready for the outburst she could see just building inside Ludwig. But it never came. Instead, Ludwig just hunched his shoulders and said: "You're wrong. All of you. Antonio and Lovino and – you're just wrong. You don't know him like I do."

Irina regarded him with a quiet, pitying look. "I think you see what you want to see."

When Ludwig didn't answer, she placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "Well…I guess…I-I'll see you – Monday – a-at school."

Ludwig uttered a curt "Yeah" to show he had heard her and watched as she walked back towards the canal.

Later that evening, Ludwig took a break between his dishwashing duties to find Antonio.

The girls were backstage, smoking and gossiping, taking advantage of an extended intermission. The night had been fairly steady compared to the last few Saturdays, but it was nowhere near as busy as it used to be.

Antonio was seated at his vanity, reapplying his makeup. He looked up as Ludwig approached. "Hola, mijo. How goes it?"

Ludwig shrugged. "Same, I guess."

Antonio nodded. "You look like you have something to ask," the Spaniard said as he applied another layer of eyeliner.

Ludwig let out a quick puff of a breath. Antonio's intuition about people was uncanny.

"Why do you do it?" Ludwig said in a hushed voice, as if he did not wish them to be overheard.

"What?"

Ludwig eyed all the various jars and powders arranged so very neatly on Antonio's vanity. "Dress up like a woman."

Antonio pressed his lips together. He placed the eyeliner pencil back in a cup filled with others just like it and stared at the top of his dressing table, running a hand over its smooth surface. "It's been awhile since anyone's ever asked me that," he said quietly. "And I'm afraid the answer will be just as disappointing to you as it was to them."

Ludwig sank into an empty chair, waiting to hear more.

Antonio took his hands and pressed them between his own. "We all have dreams, Ludwig. Some are just…more impossible…than others. There is no real reason other than because. Because I like the performance. Because I like the self-expression. Because here, it's safe for me to live my dream. Do you know what I mean?"

Ludwig slowly nodded. He stared at the hands holding his. "…Is that how you want men to see you? A-as a woman?"

"No," Antonio said, shaking his head, a thoughtful look on his face. "It's not about deception, Ludwig. It's art. It's an expression. And the – " Antonio's voice caught in his throat – "the – men – I'm with…know that. They know it's an act."

Antonio's eyes narrowed a bit as they studied Ludwig's bowed head. "…Why are you asking? Not that I mind," he added hastily. "But, are you just…curious?"

Ludwig shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe. Yeah," he mumbled.

Antonio gave him a small smile. "Curiosity is not a bad thing, mijo. Remember that."

Ludwig nodded. They sat in silence a moment, until Antonio turned back to his vanity to powder his face.

"Ugh. Look at me!" the Spaniard exclaimed. "I look so old. Look at these crow's feet." Antonio prodded the faint creases around his eyes. "I'm surprised Roderich still keeps me around!" He winked at Ludwig through the mirror – but Ludwig was still staring at his hands, head bowed.

Antonio pretended to be occupied with his makeup, but his smile faded into something more serious, bordering on concern. "…There's…not another reason…you asked me about – well, you know. Is there?"

Before Ludwig could answer, however, Roderich came hobbling backstage, reminding everyone the curtain went back up in five minutes.

"And Ludwig," Roderich said, spotting the blonde sitting beside Antonio, "I believe your brother has some glasses he needs washed."

Ludwig nodded. He stood to go, but at a shared glance with Antonio, he stopped a moment and said in a low voice: "Thanks. For – well – listening, I guess."

"No problem, honey," Antonio said. "Like I've said, anytime you need to talk, I'm here."

Ludwig nodded again, then headed off to the kitchen.

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In the following days, Ludwig spent much of his time mulling over what Antonio and Irina each had said.

Following the revelation that Ludwig had dressed up as a woman – once – Irina made no more mention of it. But it was something Ludwig could not stop thinking about. Antonio had said, three years ago, that it was just experimentation, that he was just curious and there was nothing wrong with it – a point the Spaniard had reiterated. But, Ludwig began to wonder, was he just curious? If, as Irina said, Feliciano was not interested in him in that way, could he like Ludwig if Ludwig were to dress up as a woman? As Marlene herself? If you were Marlene, I'd kiss you, Feliciano had said. But could Ludwig really do it?

Antonio was right. Some dreams were indeed more impossible than others. And another one presented itself at the beginning of May: Ludwig had been accepted to the Bauhaus. He read the letter over twice, and rather than the feeling of elation he'd expected, he only felt worse. Foolish, even. How the hell was he going to afford this? How the hell was he even going to broach the subject with Gilbert and Roderich?

He told Irina one afternoon as they walked home from school. She gave him a gentle smile, wrapping her arm around his, and said: "I was wrong about you. I think you'll fit right in at that avant-garde school."

"What makes you say that?"

Irina shrugged a shoulder. "Just…from what Feliciano said about you dressing up – "

"That was one time!"

"I know. But…I still – kind of – want – to see you dressed like that," Irina said with a cunning smile.

Ludwig shook his head, laughing. "You're crazy."

Irina gave him an appraising look. "I don't know. I think you'd look really good," she said sincerely.

"Okay. Enough of me dressing up as a woman," Ludwig said in a low voice. "How am I going to pay for school, Irina?"

"Hmm…." Irina pretended to think. "Hold up a bank?"

"That's not funny."

"You're right. The banks have no money."

"Irina – "

"Oh! I know! You could dress up as fesche Lola and do a cabaret act!" Irina said, swinging Ludwig's hand back and forth excitedly.

"I need you to be serious – " Ludwig began. He knew she was joking, but something about what she'd said made him think….

"Feliciano would absolutely die!" Irina grinned.

There. That was it. That did it. Ludwig was, of course, shaking his head and laughing along on the outside – but internally, his disjointed thoughts were aligning. Just because a dream seemed impossible, that did not necessarily make it unattainable. Right?

But….

Oh God what would Gilbert say? And Roderich?

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May became June, and Feliciano finally had gotten a flat of his own. Really it wasn't so much a flat as it was a rented room. But it was furnished and just off of Ku'damm, near the theater where he worked. Ludwig helped Feliciano bring his suitcases over the weekend following his last day of school. They met the landlady on the stairs. Feliciano introduced them. She seemed nice, Ludwig thought – or at least her eyes didn't seem like they were constantly watching him, the way Lovino's did every time he had visited.

Feliciano treated Ludwig to lunch at a nearby café as a "thank you." The Italian prattled away about his job, but Ludwig was only half-listening. His thoughts kept distracting him. Marlene, movie, university, Feliciano. Marlene, movie, university, Feliciano. On and on they went. And each time he came to the same impasse: Could he really dress up and go on stage like Antonio? Could he really do it? And what would his brother and Roderich say?

Feliciano paid the check and before they went their separate ways, he embraced Ludwig, saying: "Thank you for everything. I'm really glad I came back here. I missed it a lot." He planted a swift kiss on either of Ludwig's cheeks and set off for his new apartment, leaving a stunned Ludwig in his wake.

Later that afternoon, Ludwig sat in his room, waiting for the time when his shift at the Supper Club would begin. He held the acceptance letter in one hand, his eyes glazing over as they stared at the black and white page. He clutched it so unwittingly tight that his hand shook, his fist wrinkling the edge.

Could he go on stage and perform like Antonio?

Ludwig absently brought a hand up to rub the spot where Feliciano's lips had brushed his cheek.

Could he…?

If it meant keeping Feliciano….

If it meant getting his dreams….

Then, yes.

Yes, he fucking could.

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Despite what Antonio had said about springtime blues, things at the Supper Club were far from improving that summer.

Every Monday, before the club opened, Ivan would stop by to take his share of the previous week's profits. Roderich knew this. It had been their arrangement for years. But that did not stop his hands from shaking uncontrollably as they counted out the bills. It was the first time – ever since he took over ownership from Bernd – he did not have enough to pay anyone their proper wages. He hated the idea of having to make pay cuts, but…they had been just breaking even for months. Roderich had only hoped things would get better. He wondered if the Russian would be at all understanding as the lobby door opened and shut.

Roderich loosened his tie and lit a cigarette as Ivan made his way down to the bar. The feigned smile on his face faded as he saw the small stack of cash on the bar top.

"This is all?" Ivan said, picking up the bills and beginning to count.

Roderich nodded.

Ivan's pale eyes locked onto Roderich's, and for the first time he noted with a sinking feeling, Ivan's eyes did not contain the ever-present deadened expression – they were alive and gaining in color….

"This cannot be. Count it again – "

"I've already gone over it ten times!" Roderich fumed. He retrieved the ledger from the safe and tossed it on the bar. "Here are the numbers. See for yourself."

Ivan flipped open the book as Roderich lit another cigarette, wiping a hand over his sweating brow.

"I can't even pay my employees," Roderich said, hoping Ivan would read the hint.

Ivan closed the ledger and slid it back across the bar. He stared evenly at Roderich as he pocketed his cut.

Roderich clenched his jaw, willing himself to keep his head as he locked the ledger and the remaining bills back in the safe. If things did not improve, he would be forced to lay people off. And if that failed, he would have to dip into his own savings….

"What are you going to do?" Ivan asked, a little too calmly for Roderich's liking.

The Austrian ground out his cigarette in the ashtray and folded his arms across his chest, his face adopting a haughty sneer. "I don't know. As partial owner, shouldn't you have some suggestions?"

Just then, Ludwig came out of the kitchen, a rag thrown over his shoulder. He nodded at Ivan and Roderich – the latter of whom had completely forgotten the boy was even there and wondered if he had overheard any of their conversation. But Ludwig set about wiping down tables, not seeming to pay the two men at the bar any attention.

Ivan watched Ludwig clean. The boy was singing something under his breath as he went about his work, his low voice resonating in the still air.

"Maybe you should think about getting some new acts," Ivan said with a half-grin as he turned back to the bar. "I'm sure that's what the crowd needs. Some fresh blood."

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A/N The movie, Der Blaue Engel (The Blue Angel) is significant to this story. According to the director, Joseph von Sternberg, the story focuses on the "downfall of an enamored man." Just a little something to think about, especially with regards to Ludwig and Feliciano. Also, I called this one "Prelude" because shit is about to go down...like in the next chapter! Things are finally coming together - I promised they would ;) And thanks to everyone who has stuck with this crazy cocktail of a fic!