Chapter 19
Täuberln-Walzer
Trust.
Sounded so simple, such a common thing, easy to give and easy to receive. Meaningless to some, only moderately important to others. People uttered promises and other people trusted them. People extended the benefit of a doubt to their family, because family was known and trusted. Alfred had never really given too much thought to something like trust, truthfully, until he had met Ludwig.
Matthew had always trusted him, on some very small level, not with anything truly important though, because Matthew had known him better than that. Francis trusted Alfred far more than Matthew did, but Alfred knew better than to think that Francis would have ever told him everything.
Earning someone's complete and blind trust had never mattered once to Alfred, because honestly no one in his life had ever been more important than he was to himself.
Not so now, all of a sudden and out of nowhere.
Alfred woke up that morning, on a couch that was not his own in a house that was not his own, with a sleeping man in his arms that had become the first person on the planet to ever give Alfred their unquestioning trust.
That man in his arms suddenly meant the world. More than the world, actually, more than anything, more than any other human on the face of the Earth.
Ludwig meant everything.
Ludwig trusted him, only him, and for that Alfred would have given him anything. No one had ever looked at Alfred and considered him worthwhile of trust, because of course Alfred never had been. He'd been working on himself so hard, so relentlessly, had striven to earn that trust, and had finally been deemed worthy of receiving it. That Ludwig had entrusted him was still a bit staggering, but Alfred took it more seriously than he had ever taken anything else in his life.
Had worked so hard to earn it, and would do nothing to risk losing it.
Deep, even breathing, as unconscious Ludwig slept there in his arms. Remarkable. The most detached, stern, disciplined, wary, jittery man Alfred had ever met, and somehow, someway, he had chosen Alfred of all people to put his faith into.
Wouldn't lose it.
He clenched Ludwig up to his chest, watching his pale neck with nothing less than fascination, studying Ludwig's hair. Had never seen such pale hair, and it was interesting to Alfred to see the short hairs on the back of Ludwig's neck shining white in the pale sunlight. Ludwig was a handsome guy, absolutely, had very fortunate looks, and it was curious to Alfred that he had ever been an orphan at all. Didn't fit the homely image he had in his head. Wondered what had happened to his real parents. Seemed to be of very good stock, and it seemed so odd to Alfred that people like that would have dropped off their child.
Oh, well. Gone and forgotten.
Before long Alfred buried his face in Ludwig's messy hair and startled nuzzling him, because he needed to wake him up and this felt like a great way to do so, if only because he enjoyed the scent of Ludwig's hair.
A sigh, as Ludwig stirred into consciousness, a squirm against him, and warm hands reached up slowly to cover his own. Alfred clenched him up all the tighter, just to make sure that Ludwig knew he wasn't escaping Alfred's clutches until Alfred let him. Wanted him to stay right where he was.
Preferably forever.
A deep, scratchy whisper, as Ludwig leaned his head back.
"You're up early."
Alfred just gave a grunt, and squeezed Ludwig ever tighter. Probably couldn't breathe anymore.
"For once."
The jab didn't bother him, and he smiled into the back of Ludwig's neck, wishing more than anything that this would be something he could look forward to every day.
Time, however, was an issue, because Francis wouldn't be gone forever and Alfred didn't really want to imagine the look on his face if he burst inside his own home to see flowers and candles everywhere, wine bottles strewn about, and Alfred spooning some random man on his couch.
A little awkward.
"I hate letting you go," Alfred finally muttered, "but I think I have to give my uncle his house back."
A noise of irritation.
Ludwig's hands were suddenly gripping his wrists in a vice, apparently quite determined to keep Alfred right where he was, and goddammit, Francis, why couldn't the bastard have spent the week over at the old man's instead? Or a month. Or always.
Or, better yet—
Feeling bold with a half-asleep and hung-over Ludwig, he pressed his lips against Ludwig's ear, and breathed, "I think we should take this party to your place."
Dazed and dumb and probably feeling half-dead, Ludwig just uttered, as complacently as always, "Okay."
A long, comfortable second of Alfred trying to squeeze the life right out of Ludwig.
Ludwig twisted in his arms then, just enough to look over his shoulder and at Alfred, and Alfred couldn't really say that he had ever felt as content as he did then, with their noses pressed together and Ludwig's eyes running over his face like that.
A smile, and then Ludwig asked, a bit carefully, in a very rough rumble, "So, was that your idea of a date?"
Ah.
Unsure of whether or not to feign offense, Alfred just squeezed Ludwig all the tighter and replied, lowly, "What? Not good enough for you? Did you have something else in mind? I was kinda proud of myself."
"As usual," Ludwig griped, those eyes still running over him, and Alfred was very close to cracking.
Man, Ludwig was all about smashing his ego this morning.
"Sorry," Alfred said, as he pressed ever farther forward, so close now that their lips were almost touching, "I'll try to take you on a real date next time. But I mean, I don't know what you want. I took you out to a diner already and I didn't even get a goodnight kiss. So. I don't what else I can do. I don't think I can top this. I'm all out of ideas."
A look of exasperation.
"As usual," Ludwig repeated.
Feisty this morning. Maybe spilling his soul out to Alfred the night before had loosened Ludwig up around him. Maybe he was getting some love-jabs. Hoped so.
Welp.
Felt like he'd already made enough of an ass of himself for months now, he'd already thrown himself out there completely, had already put every bit of himself out on the line, had literally nothing else to lose at this point, so why not?
Ludwig had trusted him enough to tell him the truth, and Ludwig wouldn't have done that if he didn't feel for Alfred what Alfred felt for him. No way, not someone like Ludwig. Wouldn't have been lying here in his arms this very second if Ludwig didn't feel that way for him.
So Alfred muttered, crankily, "You're so hard to please," and before Ludwig could snipe at him again he just pressed forward and finally kissed the bastard at last.
No retort then, none at all, as Ludwig froze up like a deer and didn't twitch a muscle.
Good; made it easier to grab the back of his head and put more effort into it. Ludwig was completely limp in his hands, as if the sense had been knocked completely out of him, and he didn't move at all until Alfred had pulled back the second time and asked, rather playfully, "You ain't gonna slap me again, are you, baby?"
Ludwig opened his mouth, and promptly lost his voice, no doubt shocked by Alfred so boldly calling him 'baby'. Wasn't gonna take it back, no way, and like everything else Ludwig was just going to have to saddle up and go along for the ride.
A long moment of open-mouthed Ludwig gawking at him, and then, at last, Ludwig rumbled in that sultry murmur that Alfred now loved, "I'm thinking about it."
Honestly, Alfred would have let Ludwig slap him until he couldn't remember his own name, just as long as Ludwig let him keep kissing him.
And, as a matter of fact, it seemed that Ludwig actually would let Alfred keep kissing him, because suddenly Ludwig had twisted completely around in his arms and they were chest to chest. A nose pushing into his own, and a wonderfully familiar palm on his face.
Loved that already.
Hoped Ludwig knew what he was doing, because now that he was willingly in Alfred's arms he sure as hell wouldn't be leaving them anytime soon, whether he wanted to or not.
A long, quiet stare between them, as Ludwig's thumb ran over his cheek, and then Ludwig smiled, calmly. Looked so tranquil in that moment, Ludwig, so peaceful, as if everything in him had found some kind of serenity. Talking about it all, maybe, had relieved some of that pressure and Ludwig was able to find balance.
Looked quite beautiful in that moment, in Alfred's eyes, and so he pressed forward and kissed him again, momentarily forgetting why he had woken Ludwig up in the first place. Very hard for him to focus on anything else when Ludwig was looking at him like that. How could he possibly have been expected to pay attention to the real world when he was kissing the man he had spent countless months relentlessly pursuing?
Impossible.
Maybe he got a little too invested, when his hand ran down Ludwig's side and Ludwig's hand wound up on the back of his neck. Kinda forgot where he was and what he had been doing, if he were perfectly honest.
When exactly he had maneuvered them around and somehow pinned Ludwig beneath him exactly, he couldn't say, but it was a spectacular feeling all the same. By god, to have Ludwig's hands on his back like that! Something he hadn't known until then he had ever even needed.
During a pause, when Alfred pulled back, Ludwig murmured, so quietly, "Am I dreaming?"
Alfred snorted, bumping their noses together affectionately, and replied, "Sure hope not. But if so, then let's not wake up."
Ludwig's lidded eyes then were extremely seductive to Alfred although Ludwig surely didn't intend for them to be.
As he always did, he fell for Ludwig, and kissed him again, falling atop him with his full weight as Ludwig's hands ran into his hair.
Well, hell, if this was a dream, then it was the best one Alfred had had in a damn long—
Francis—!
Damn!
With a sharp inhale, Alfred pulled back very abruptly, Ludwig looked startled, and Alfred managed to roll over Ludwig and onto the floor without breaking his neck. He stood up, scrounged up his glasses, looked around in a daze, and knew he was gonna haveta to clean all of this up before Francis came back. Better now than later, too, because if he didn't get his hands off of Ludwig right that second Francis would have walked into something a hell of a lot harder to explain than spooning.
Right.
Ludwig sat up on the couch, looked around a bit blearily to gather his bearings, and Alfred said, gently, "Go home. I gotta clean up my mess. My uncle will be back before long."
A dumb, dazed nod, and Ludwig stood up, looking yet a little stupefied.
Ah, that adorable little jerk. Alfred watched him fondly as he searched for his shoes, smoothed down his shirt as best he could, and tried in vain to smooth his hair. Looked a total mess, in all fairness, and for that was particularly handsome.
Hated seeing him go, but go he must, because Alfred was on borrowed time.
He walked Ludwig to the door when he was ready, and Ludwig just stared at him yet as if he really had stepped out of some dream.
Alfred ran a hand down his arm, and assured, "I won't be too long. Alright?"
A nod, and Ludwig drifted away from him and to the door.
When Ludwig had the doorknob in his hand, Alfred suddenly whirled around, stalked forward, grabbed Ludwig's arm, twisted him around, and kissed him rather furiously.
Just one for the road, was all.
Once more, Ludwig fell up against him quite cooperatively, hand flying up to the back of his neck, and Alfred tried to make sure Ludwig knew that he really was intending to hurry up and get over there so they could take up right where they were leaving off.
As abruptly as he had kissed Ludwig, Alfred once more pulled back, and once more shoved Ludwig gently towards the door.
Once more, Ludwig sighed and tried to go outside.
Damn!
One more time, just one more time, that was all, just one more time for sure, just for good measure. Thought that maybe Ludwig was smirking a little when Alfred grabbed his arm that final time and yanked him back for one more kiss. Looked smug enough, certainly, and that time Alfred opened the door and shoved Ludwig out.
Couldn't keep his hands to himself, it seemed.
Ludwig stared at him from below the steps, probably thinking that he had lost his mind, and Alfred shooed him off with a quick, "I won't be too long. Your friend's not home, right? Go home. I'll be over soon. You can, ah, go lay down in bed and wait for me."
Ludwig's brow shot up, and before he could retort Alfred had shut the door in his face.
Alfred whirled back around to start his cleaning frenzy, and then stopped short and groaned to himself, running right back to the front door to wrench it open. Sure enough, Ludwig was still standing there, arms crossed and looking quite exasperated.
"Sorry!" Alfred cried, as he darted past Ludwig and to the street, looking for a taxi.
Had forgotten for a moment that he had dragged Ludwig all over the city at nighttime and that Ludwig had absolutely no idea where he was even at to find his way home to begin with. Not a good way to end his very first date.
Ludwig trailed behind him as Alfred threw his hand in the air for a cab, and when he looked over his shoulder, he could tell that Ludwig was trying very hard to keep a straight face and look stern.
Whew.
Alfred shot him a wink, dug out his wallet, gave Ludwig a ten, and sent him on his way. Was pretty sure that Ludwig had rolled his eyes at the last second, but he'd survive, and hopefully still be in a good mood later on in the day.
Felt so hassled and harried, having so much to do and so much adrenaline. Hadn't known it would be so much work the day after. Had never given such effort to anything before.
The first thing he did when back inside was to gather up all of the flowers and pile them up, because Francis would need those glasses and vases back for his own date efforts. The candles were next, plucked up and tossed into another neat little pile.
It wasn't quite as daunting as it had first appeared, and he was fairly cleaned up and finished by the time Francis did come back, when the sun was bright.
The door clicked open.
A rush of adrenaline, and Alfred turned over his shoulder to look over as Francis came inside, pulling off his overshirt. Could see Francis looking around, quite intently, and Alfred stood up to come over and greet him and hug him and tell him what a champ he was.
Stopped short, though, when he saw how tired Francis looked. The circles under his eyes, which were rather red-rimmed.
Oh, shit.
"So," Alfred began, carefully, feeling miserably guilty out of nowhere. "How was your night?"
No answer at first, as Francis removed his shoes and kept his eyes very downcast, and Alfred could already feel the dread mounting.
Oh, no, hadn't wanted any of this, hadn't wanted Francis to meet any sort of duress. Hadn't meant for that to happen, for him to feel that way. That had never been part of the plan.
Alfred took a step forward, as Francis straightened up and headed directly over to the kitchen table to sit himself down. Alfred followed like a dog, sitting down across from Francis and feeling remarkably horrible.
At last, Francis finally lifted his chin, looked around a bit through those bleary eyes, and said, in a very rough voice, "Well. I haven't slept at all. Was up all night talking."
"Talking?" Alfred pressed, carefully.
What, with the old man? Since when?
Could see in how quickly Francis was blinking and how frequently he was swallowing that he was trying very hard not to burst into tears, and Alfred hated himself a little bit for that.
"Well. When I arrived, everything was alright. He asked how you were doing. If I was keeping an eye on you, since you wouldn't come home. We just...talked, like normal. And then..."
Francis trailed off, eyes falling down to the kitchen table, and Alfred tried hard to be patient and bite his tongue and let Francis take as long as he needed, but damn if this wasn't killing him slowly.
Francis' voice was low. Trembling. On the verge of collapse.
"And then, I don't know what happened. We were just in the middle of dinner, and suddenly, he looked at me, and he was smiling. God. I can't even remember the last time he ever smiled at me. He said— He said he had good news for me. That I was going to be an uncle. Wanted to know what I thought about the name 'Alfred'."
His stomach dropped so fast and so hard that Alfred was certain he was on a roller coaster.
Ice.
Hadn't been home in months, and hadn't ever thought it had gotten quite that bad, that it had come to that. That his father had really declined quite that far. Had shown signs, sure, but this seemed so far over the edge.
And, oh, above all else Alfred regretted that it was Francis that had suffered for Alfred's selfishness.
Then, at the very last verge, voice so strangled and thick and eyes watering, face crumpling, Francis laughed, "We just talked all night like she was still alive. And god help me, Alfred, I loved every minute of it."
With that, Francis' face screwed up and he dissolved into tears.
Alfred felt like the most miserable, awful man on the planet.
Alfred switched chairs so that he was beside of Francis, and carefully and awkwardly rested his hand on Francis' back. What the hell did he even say? How was he supposed to proceed from here?
Long, horrible minutes.
All Alfred whispered then, as Francis tried hard to stifle sobs within his hands, was, "I'm sorry."
"No," Francis finally muttered a long while later, peering out over the tips of his fingers. "You know... I think I actually feel kind of better. Talking about it like that. Maybe I needed that." Francis buried his face once more, groaning and wiping his eyes, and added, "Maybe I needed a good cry, too."
Good to hear, but it was a pitiful sight nonetheless.
Francis straightened up, muttered to himself in French as he wiped harshly at his eyes and smoothed back his hair, and then he glanced over at Alfred, looking quite like hell.
"What are you going to do, Alfred? He can't be alone like this. He has dementia, you know? That has to be it. Or something like that. He can't be alone all the time."
He knew that. Could see it clearly now, and knew that it was his responsibility to take care of this issue, of this man, only his. Couldn't stomach it all the same, the thought of it, and yet he still held Francis' intense gaze, gave a curt nod, and said, simply, "I'll take care of it."
In whatever manner that may have been was yet to be seen, as well as whether or not Francis actually believed him. Regardless, Francis nodded at him in turn, and considered the matter settled.
Quickly enough, they changed the subject into small talk, as Francis pulled himself together quietly and efficiently. As he usually did.
When Francis had finally cheered up a little, had gotten all of his stress and pent up emotions out, he looked around his house, snorted, and let his eyes settle on Alfred.
He smiled.
"So! How was your night? Have good luck?"
Felt so awful, really did, felt so horrible and guilty, but damn if Alfred couldn't help but smile then, because he had, and it was just too much for him to stay anything but happy.
"I had the best night. I'm— Damn, I'm so sorry, I really am, I feel so bad, but I had the best night of my life, I really did. You don't know how much I owe ya. I'll do anything you want."
Francis lifted his brow, drummed his fingers on the table, and then, after another long silence, he asked, carefully, "So, then. Is there something you want to tell me? Maybe. About your date?"
Dread.
Alfred had never said it in exact words to Francis, nor to Matthew, but it was essentially known to Alfred that both of them were aware of what exactly was happening between Alfred and Ludwig. They had known before he had, hadn't they, with their constant observations about Alfred's increasingly peculiar behavior, and yet...
Somehow, saying it to them—that was hard.
Wasn't ashamed, wasn't embarrassed, loved Ludwig, and so Alfred couldn't really have explained why he stopped short. Somehow, opening his mouth and saying to his uncle, 'I'm in love with another man' was unspeakably horrifying.
Couldn't say it, and foundered, staring at Francis and finally exhaling and giving only a weak shrug of his shoulders.
What could he say?
As much as it had been so hard to get rid of his father's hatred of Germans, it was very hard to let go of the sense of unease that came along with being in a very taboo relationship. A man being in love with another man? Even more unacceptable than Alfred befriending Ludwig had been.
It was easy to stand before the unknown world and not give one damn about flirting with Ludwig right in front of them, but to stand before Francis, blood and his only real family, and admit that Alfred was not right was impossible. To ever have Francis look at him differently, think differently of him...
Alfred didn't give a damn about the world, but he did give a damn about Francis, and he couldn't say it.
Francis lifted his chin at Alfred's reluctance, and tried a different tactic.
"Say. I'm still waiting for you to bring that German of yours over for dinner."
Such careful wording. That German of yours? Could have easily said 'your German friend'.
Francis was beating Alfred over the head, and Alfred got the message, he really did, but still he choked, and only managed to utter, gruffly, "Oh, yeah. Well. Haven't had time, I guess."
"Hm!"
A very long, very awkward silence.
Seeking a desperate escape, Alfred jerked his hand in the air, and said, far too quickly, "Look, I'm really sorry about last night. I really will make it up to you. Really. I gotta go, alright? I'll be back soon. I'll be your slave whenever. Alright? See you later. Love ya."
With that, Alfred turned and bolted to the door.
Didn't make it all the way.
Francis finally uttered, so quietly, "If you ever want to just say it, I'll be here. I already know, so whenever you feel like you can say it, I'll listen to you."
That meant everything.
Awkwardly, Alfred mumbled, "I know. Thanks."
He made again for the door, and Francis called, "You know I don't think any differently of you. Right?"
Ah, dammit—
Alfred stopped in his tracks, turned back, went right back up to Francis, and hugged him then for all he was worth, squeezed the hell out of him, because honestly he really needed to hear that. Needed that reassurance, even if he wasn't yet brave enough to sit there and tell Francis in words.
Having Francis look at him differently was one of his worst fears, because essentially this man was his father more than his uncle. Francis may have only been telling Alfred what he wanted to hear, and Alfred was as aware of that as he was everything else, but it felt good all the same. Francis may have very well thought differently of him, may have shifted opinions, but as long as he pretended he didn't then Alfred could have easily carried on.
Francis returned the embrace, as well as he could for his pinned arms, and said, quietly, "I knew that very day you took me to meet him. Just come by, whenever you want to talk."
"Thanks, man" Alfred muttered, his voice muffled in Francis' shoulder, and he had to let Francis go then and run off, before he was the one crying.
Felt good to hear, so good, because the old man thought that there was something wrong with him, and so did the world, for that matter.
Couldn't cry, not now; had someone waiting for him.
It was Sunday morning, after all. Walking time, and Alfred never missed it, although this time he may have been planning on replacing walking with another activity.
As he always did every time, he focused on Ludwig, and pushed the old man out of his mind. Would do something about it, really he would, if only because he had promised Francis, but he couldn't do anything about it right this second, and Ludwig was waiting for him. Alfred had never in his life denied that he was selfish, and it was easier to put aside unpleasant tasks for the high he got from being around Ludwig instead. Would deal with it eventually, but not today.
Not today.
Today, he had other plans, and not one of them involved feeling guilty or sad or regretful.
Today, Ludwig was his, for the first time.
The walk through the city was just long enough to get him settled down and back into a decent mood, and he was grateful for that because he swore to himself right then and there that he would never again take a bad mood back through Ludwig's door, as he had on that awful night.
Ludwig didn't deserve it.
Had had too much trauma coming through his front door his entire life.
Wouldn't ever show anger or doubt or sadness, no matter what, and by the time he was standing in front of Ludwig's door, his spirits were high, his father was forgotten, and Alfred was once more up in the clouds.
Time to shine.
He pushed open the door, and was a little disappointed to see that Ludwig was not, after all, lying down on the bed waiting for him. Damn shame, too. Was sitting instead on the couch, legs crossed and arms behind his head.
Looked a little smug yet. Figured.
Seeing Ludwig washed away every feeling of guilt and misery, and Alfred loved him for it, even if Ludwig didn't know at all that he was doing so.
Ludwig eyed him as he sauntered over, lowered his arms and sat up straight, and he did so not a moment too soon because Alfred crashed down on the couch beside of him so heavily he was surprised he didn't break the damn thing. Ludwig didn't have time to chastise him for potentially ruining his furniture, because Alfred had already kissed him.
Taking right back up where he had left off, if no one minded, thanks, and tried very hard to suffocate Ludwig then, holding him still by the back of the head and tongue long since halfway down Ludwig's throat.
Maybe someone did mind.
When Alfred pulled back to breathe, Ludwig was very quick to say, "Aren't you forgetting something? It's Sunday."
Oh, damn. Right. Well, then! He supposed it was a bit inappropriate of him to even think of missing out on their little ritual, when it was the only time of the week Ludwig got to get some air, and so Alfred immediately conceded and pulled his hands back with a bit of a flourish.
Ludwig's smile was too strong to be suppressed, and Alfred felt on top of the world when he extended his hand down and Ludwig accepted it.
"Forgive me! How could I forget? Let's go, then. I wouldn't miss a walk with you for the anything in the world."
That was true, and it was probably better for him to keep his hands to himself until he calmed down a bit more. Was still too excited by this entire ordeal.
Ludwig just smiled.
The walk went as normally as it always did, with the exception perhaps of Alfred being a bit more handsy than usual, keeping his palm consistently on either Ludwig's back or his arm.
The park seemed more colorful and beautiful all the same, if only because Alfred had woken up that morning victorious in every possible way. And the flowers weren't the only things that were bright and eye-catching, because Ludwig seemed to be positively glowing.
Had never seen him like that, actually smiling in front of the rest of the world, walking so gracefully and with his head held high, brow lifted and shoulders loose. Ludwig seemed weightless, light and airy, and that in itself was incredible.
Alfred spent most of that walk just gawking silently at Ludwig, far too entranced by him to form coherent thought, let alone speech, and after a while it was Ludwig leading because Alfred was just too dazed.
Followed where Ludwig led.
In a way, really, he always had, although Alfred had been the one officially in charge. On the surface, Ludwig followed Alfred, but had Ludwig at any point changed direction it would have been Alfred running helplessly behind him.
Always would.
He didn't take his eyes off of Ludwig one time in the hours they walked, and he really didn't even realize all that much when they had left the park and were suddenly back at Ludwig's house.
Kicking his off his boots was enough of a habit by then that he could do so without removing his gaze from Ludwig, who was shifting his weight back and forth and seemed to be trying very hard not to start smirking again.
Eh.
Alfred began to wonder if Ludwig was catching on as to how much power, exactly, he wielded over Alfred. When that happened, Alfred was done for. Would have been utterly eaten alive once Ludwig realized that Alfred would have done anything and everything he wanted.
...wouldn't have really been a fate he protested much.
Ludwig seemed to be waiting for Alfred to pounce again now that they were back inside, and not exactly anxiously, but Alfred didn't, and kept his hands very much to himself. Hard to not get too into it when he got Ludwig on the couch, so it was better to keep a bit of a distance.
For the rest of the evening, they just sat together at the kitchen table, Alfred's arm heavy over Ludwig's shoulders, and they talked.
That was all.
Alfred realized that it was too soon to be so heavy-handed. Had just established a relationship with this man several hours earlier, and although for a fling that was plenty enough time, for something this important it just seemed somewhat tacky. Even for him.
Still had to be some kind of gentleman.
It was only when the sun went down that Alfred stood up, and said, "I have to go."
A crinkled brow of confusion from Ludwig, and Alfred wondered what exactly he had been expecting, what Ludwig had been anticipating. Wouldn't know, because Ludwig would never say, and Alfred only went then because he owed Francis.
Had to go home, at long last, and check on the old man.
Promised Francis, and had no choice.
To be perfectly honest, the only reason he was going now at all was because if the old man really had been up the entire night prior chattering deliriously with Francis, then the chances were excellent that he was asleep this very moment.
Alfred made for the door, and was surprised when Ludwig trailed after him and hovered over him as he pulled on his boots.
"Where do you stay when you're not here?"
"With Matthew, or Francis."
"Oh."
Ludwig knew that already and trailed off, and Alfred glanced up at him with a smirk as Ludwig lingered there above him. May have been a bit puffed out then, may have been bristling in self-satisfaction, but it was hard not to when he was fully aware that Ludwig really wanted him to stay.
Just couldn't say it.
"Worried about me?" he teased, as he pulled himself back up, and Ludwig scoffed.
"I didn't say that."
"What did you say?"
Ludwig opened his mouth, lost his voice, and waved his hand to the door, trying to shoo Alfred off with a quick, "Go on, then! Goodnight."
With that, Ludwig turned around, and Alfred knew that it was Ludwig then who was pouting.
Funny.
Before Ludwig could skulk off, Alfred grabbed his arm, twisted him back around, and said, "You're not jealous now, are you?"
Ludwig gave a short, loud laugh at that, squirmed out of Alfred's grasp, and uttered, quite primly, "Certainly not. Go on. I need some time away from you."
Alfred raked Ludwig up and down, a bit intrusively perhaps, and drawled, "Yeah. I can really tell. Don't worry. I'll come back tomorrow. If that's alright with you, that is."
Ludwig's brow was high, his lips pulled into a sneer, his eyes lidded, as he sent Alfred his best condescending expression, and it would have stung Alfred's ego if he didn't know better.
Taking that as a confirmation, Alfred just sent Ludwig a wink, opened the door, and said, "See you tomorrow. You can just dream about me until then, baby."
Before Ludwig could retort, Alfred shut the door and was on his way.
Just like that, when Ludwig was out of sight, his mood foundered and his stomach twisted. Adrenaline flowed. An awful gnaw of anxiety.
Didn't want to go home.
But he did, because he didn't have a choice, and when his house was finally before him despite having dragged his feet, for the first time in so long, Alfred stood out there on the sidewalk and stared up at it as if were the gates to hell. His courage was fading, and fast, so he forced himself onward before he ended up turning tail and fleeing back into Ludwig's waiting arms.
Wanted to be coddled, and instead found himself opening up his front door and stepping inside of his childhood home.
It was quiet. Stale air.
Alfred slunk in as stealthily as he had the past few times he had ever come home, and peered in here and there. Found his father quickly enough, asleep on the couch with the television blaring static. Why was the television always on a dead channel every time he came over? Maybe the old man liked the static because he could hear voices in it in his worse moments.
Alfred came forward and settled down onto one knee, and observed his father for the first time in months. Had lost a lot of weight, that much was obvious. His hair was nearly entirely grey now, and he was pale. Wan.
Weak.
But not entirely out of commission. Had a long way to go yet before his father could ever be considered a frail old man. Was still strong and big, just not as much as before, and Alfred couldn't look at him and say that he was in exactly dire straights.
Maybe that was all in his head, as his conscience sought ways out.
Alfred stood up, looked around, and went to the kitchen, searching the cabinets and shelves and making sure everything was in order. The old man still had food, still had plenty of supplies. The bathroom looked fine. Everything seemed well enough put together.
The delirium must have just come and gone in random waves. Couldn't have been a constant state of mind, for the house to be so normal.
...yet.
Seemed to be only a matter of time, though, and all Alfred could really do was just keep an eye on things from afar and make sure the old man was eating.
One more final look around, and Alfred quickly left.
Had checked in, as he had promised he would, and considered that good enough. For now, at least. The old man's emotional state was an entirely other matter, but Alfred was only focused on his physical state for the time being. Wouldn't let the old man starve to death, and tried damn hard not to think about how else he may have been suffering there alone in a quiet house.
Hated feeling this way.
He trudged over to Matthew's, knocked on the window, and was let in.
The week passed rather quickly for Alfred, as he attempted to juggle his need to obey Francis and his need to be away from his father every possible second. With each day, it occurred to Alfred that one possible solution to this situation was to find a nurse for his father. Sure as hell would have pleased everyone, and Alfred mulled it over as he lied across Ludwig's lap, gentle fingers running through his hair.
Wednesday morning, before work, Alfred went into his childhood doctor's office, explained his situation to the receptionist, and asked her for advice. She gave him a list of addresses and numbers, and Alfred tucked them away. He visited them all in turn each morning before work, and was consistently disappointed. Sure, they were exactly what he was looking for, perfectly in fact, but he winced every single time a price was thrown out.
So expensive.
Nothing he would be able to afford long term, and certainly not more than once every week or so. Hardly seemed to be much of a point like that.
Alfred's hopes were dashed each time, and yet still he sought a solution, because he was just too stubborn and selfish to ever give in and take care of the old man himself. Couldn't do it, just couldn't. Wouldn't.
Had to be another way.
Alfred found himself saddling up to Matthew Saturday morning, as they engaged in a now rare walk about the city, and although Matthew seemed happy enough Alfred had certain ulterior motives. As usual, as Ludwig would say.
"Say, Matt. Your parents happen to know any nurses or something?"
Matthew lifted his chin and glanced over, repeating, dumbly, "Nurses?"
Alfred nodded.
Matthew snorted, quirked a brow, and before all of this had happened, Matthew would have teased him about wanting to come on to a woman with a needle just for the chance to actually say, 'Hello, nurse!'
This time, in light of everything, Matthew just said, "I don't know. I can ask, I guess. How come?"
"My dad isn't doing so good. He can't really be alone now. I just wanted someone that could go check on him once in a while. Just a few times a week, you know?"
And of course, what that really meant was, 'I don't want to spend a lot of money on my own father, so do you know someone that will do this for me for cheap?'
Matthew's look then was very pointed, and Alfred could easily read it :
'What the hell are you so busy doing?'
Everything else, to be quite frank. Would have made himself busy with anything in the world to avoid dealing with this situation head on and putting himself into a position he had so recently gotten out of. Shirking responsibilities was something he had always excelled at, and saw no reason to stop now.
After a silence, Matthew finally just said, again, "I'll ask. I guess."
"Thanks."
Matthew didn't let him off quite that easily, and pried, "And until then?"
Alfred was quiet.
For once, just once, Matthew didn't press him, and didn't nag him.
Instead, Matthew merely changed the subject, and asked, "When do I get to meet your better half again?"
A smile spread over Alfred's face in a second at that, just at hearing those words, and maybe Matthew had intended that.
Ludwig sure as hell was his better half, no doubt about it.
Elated and too grateful to think of anything else, Alfred said, immediately, "Tomorrow."
Matthew, for his part, seemed quite surprised, no doubt because Alfred had been very unwilling to allow Matthew much access to Ludwig in weeks prior. Hardly seemed to be a point now; after all, Ludwig had been claimed, and there was no longer any need for isolation.
Ludwig was his, and if Matthew wanted to hang out with him a little then that was just fine.
Matthew said, cheerfully, "I'll hold you to that. See you tomorrow."
Alfred turned the tables, and asked, "What about you? You have a better half yet, huh? Maybe someone I know?"
A tint of red on Matthew's cheeks, and he gave a nervous laugh before answering, "Maybe. Why? You wanna have a double date sometime?"
Yeah, right. He wished, and a twinge of melancholy crept into his happiness. Could never be, and Matthew seemed to realize that and looked a little embarrassed for having ever said it to begin with.
"Well. It's nothing serious, really. I can't tell with her. She's always so happy, so I don't know if being with me is any different to her than any other day."
Alfred scoffed, and after a few more minutes of chatter they parted ways, and Alfred's feet took him straight back to Ludwig, as they always did.
Ludwig's feet may have been as equally single-minded, because he was usually right there by the door whenever Alfred came by. Seemed to open the door on the very first knock, and sometimes opened so quickly that Alfred's fist almost connected with his face as he rapped it down.
Eager much? Join the club.
Sometimes, Ludwig almost seemed more eager than Alfred was to be together, because there were times, like this instant, that Ludwig grabbed him by the arm and dragged him forcibly over to the couch so that they could sit side by side, which usually culminated in Alfred being splayed out over Ludwig's lap so that Ludwig could coddle him as Alfred desperately needed.
Not yet, though—Alfred didn't give Ludwig a chance to settle down, grabbing him by the hand and tugging them backwards, saying, "Let's go down to the harbor."
As he always did, Ludwig just went along with whatever Alfred wanted, and Alfred really only wanted to go down to the ships because he loved the sight of Ludwig in the wind and sun against the backdrop of blue skies and the sea.
One of his happier moments, watching Ludwig stare out across the waves. Staring off towards home, as it was.
Alfred liked to think that Ludwig wasn't as homesick now, because someone here loved him. God knew that was how Alfred felt.
It was the most incredible feeling he had ever known, it really was, to wake up in the morning and know that there was someone out there that was in love with him, and that he loved in return. Could never have explained it if he tried to, but he understood suddenly why so many wars had been started by men that were in love.
So easy to understand, because Alfred was certain he would have gladly set ships a sail for Ludwig, would have taken on the entire world for him without a second thought.
It was so easy to fall into that feeling, too easy, and maybe sometimes Alfred just did whatever he felt like without really thinking about it.
It was so easy to walk down the street with Ludwig and lean into his side and push them together, sometimes reaching down and snatching Ludwig's hand briefly to squeeze it before letting it go.
It was so easy to sit there with Ludwig on the edge of the dock and rest an arm over his shoulders, because that was what he always did.
Didn't stop to think about it.
Matthew and Francis had been telling him for a while to be careful, and were so frequent and so serious with their warnings, but in that elated daze of being around Ludwig, it was hard for Alfred to ever really take it too much to heart. He had never been a subtle person, not in anything, and he couldn't really help it. Wasn't intentional at all, just his nature.
Didn't think about things he did before he acted on them.
Hard to worry about possible consequences when he lived so much in the present and in the moment.
That first Sunday after they had become 'they', Alfred had brought Matthew along on their walk as he had promised, and everything had been so great, so wonderful, as it always was when he was with Ludwig, and when they had started walking back Matthew had talked Alfred into hanging out with him for a little while. Ludwig had been quick to shoo Alfred away with Matthew, and hell, it had been so long since he had done anything at all with Matthew, so Alfred had just gone along with it. Saying goodbye to Ludwig though at the edge of the park—Alfred thought nothing of it, nothing at all, because he was so happy all the time, so he just pressed forward right there in the street and kissed Ludwig's cheek in farewell, grabbing his hand at the same time.
Not a second thought.
As he had walked at Matthew's side a while later, though, Matthew had made an odd noise deep in his chest, and then he had whispered, in a low voice Alfred had never heard, "Alfred. You need to be more careful. You can't do that in front of everyone."
For a moment, Alfred had been confused, hadn't even known what Matthew was referring to, because it had seemed so natural to him. It hit him, though, shortly after, and for a moment Alfred had been angry at Matthew, for just a second.
He had opened his mouth, and promptly lost his voice.
Didn't know what to say.
After the anger came the frustration, because he knew that Matthew was right, of course he was, but it annoyed him all the same. Annoyed him that he was being forced to tone himself down, to control himself, to stop acting impulsively, because those were things he had always done so easily.
So hard to stand there and remember that it wasn't safe now for him to just do whatever came to mind, because he had suddenly found himself on the wrong side of society.
Alfred had slept on Matthew's floor that night, because he didn't want to take that bad mood back to Ludwig. Couldn't, not after he had sworn to himself that he wouldn't ever let Ludwig feel down again.
Tuesday evening, Alfred had gone to Francis' for a visit, and after a quick hug, Alfred had asked Francis where he could find some good flowers. The ones he had bought before had been loose, bought on a whim, and he wanted something that was actually put together and nice.
Francis stood there, looking at Alfred quietly, and then said, "I guess... Ah, guess they're for your, ah, date, huh?"
Your date—what Francis had really wanted to say was, 'I guess they're for your man.'
Alfred just lifted his chin, scoffed, and said, so casually, "'Course they are."
A silence.
Francis exhaled through his nose, lips pursed and brow crinkled, and then he had finally just said, so lowly, "I hope you're being careful, Alfred. I should hope that you're not making yourself obvious. I worry about you sometimes. The way you can be."
As with Matthew, his first sentiment was anger, gone as quick as it came and replaced with more frustration.
Couldn't stand it, couldn't, hated all of these endless warnings and murmurs of caution.
Just wanted to be happy, was that asking so much?
All Alfred could do was grumble back some half-assed assurance that he knew what he was doing, although that wasn't necessarily true.
In the meanwhile, Matthew had yet to find a nurse, and Alfred was forced to swing by his home every few nights, very late and very quietly, just to make sure the old man was still kicking.
Tried so hard to carry on normally.
It turned out not to be so hard for him, but that was only because Ludwig was there, and Alfred drew his confidence and assurance and happiness from the way Ludwig looked at him.
As he often did, Alfred shook off the outside world, shrugged off every warning and everything he found distasteful, and carried on as easily as he always had.
His focus now was on making Ludwig as happy as Ludwig made him, through whatever means that may have required.
That was the easiest part of this entire ordeal, actually. Making Ludwig happy was remarkably simple, because all Alfred really had to do was show his face and Ludwig perked right up. The only person in existence who looked forward to seeing Alfred and who truly wanted to have him around at all times.
Weeks passed, and eventually Alfred steadily forgot about acquiring a nurse for his father, having fallen into a bit of routine by creeping inside in the middle of the night. Ludwig smiling at him made it hard for Alfred to really feel pressure or worry.
He just forgot, after a while.
Towards the end of August, close to what Alfred considered their one month 'anniversary' of sorts, he had finally decided that he wanted to officially move in with Ludwig, although he spent the majority of his time there anyway.
Wanted to say, at last, that he lived there, and fully intended to take over management of the household, as it was, and pay the bills. Felt rather like the natural next step, and he had been thinking about since the very first time he had ever held Ludwig in his arms.
It had been storming frequently, and Alfred enjoyed the rain quite a bit because every time it started drizzling, Ludwig would look at Alfred from the corner of his eye, waiting for Alfred to sling his jacket over his shoulders.
Alfred never disappointed.
It was a Friday night, stormy as ever. The rain had been pounding away, and Ludwig had been contentedly snuggled up in Alfred's jacket when they had gotten back to Ludwig's home, which Alfred was very much intending to ask could become his home as well.
Had been running the words in his head, over and over again, all day long.
Anxiety was high, but so was joy.
Moving in with Ludwig would have been an absolute dream come true, for now at least. Would have truly felt like he had established himself in Ludwig's life and would be there from that point onward. How strange—the old man had spent so much time trying to marry him off like the other men his age, and the thought of it had made Alfred shudder all the way down to his boots. Had never once imagined himself ever wanting to settle with one person, had never wanted a serious relationship, because he was too focused on himself.
Couldn't say what it was about Ludwig that made him want consistency and stable ground.
Maybe, in the end, Ludwig's reliance upon him and vulnerability made him important to Alfred, because Alfred had always needed someone needing him. Ludwig did, whether he would ever admit it or not, and for that Alfred needed him in equal proportions.
Wanted to be together, officially, and tonight he would ask.
He had so many words in his head, so many things he had planned, so many charming, wonderful ways he had planned on sweeping Ludwig off of his feet and into a full-blown relationship, so much he had strung together.
So many ideas.
Yet when they were sitting on the couch later on, Alfred's arm ever over Ludwig's shoulders, when Alfred finally opened his mouth, all that came out was a weak, lame, "Hey—can I move in?"
Shit. Shit, shit—
Ludwig's brows shot up, his lips parted, he exhaled just a bit, and Alfred pulled back, throwing his head back onto the couch and raising a hand up to cover his eyes in absolute exasperation with himself. Christ, how fuckin' lame, how had he even said it that way? Had been planning this for an entire month, and that had never been on the list of ways to say it.
Sounded so...
A scoff, and Ludwig finally managed to utter, deeply, "You already live here. Pretty much."
Yeah, that was why he hadn't wanted to say it like that.
He groaned into his palm, cursed to himself, and then sat up straight, turned back to Ludwig, still gripping him around the shoulders, and tried again.
"That's not what I meant to say. What I meant was— I wanted us to move in together. I don't care where, here or wherever else you want. I wanted to... I meant to say, that I want us to be together. Hell, if you asked me, I'd take you anywhere you wanted to go. I'd build you a damn house. What I meant to say is that I want us to live together. You know?"
Stupid.
Ludwig must have thought he was the most pathetic man on the planet.
Maybe a better way would have been a far bolder, 'Will you be my boyfriend?'
Felt too weird saying that somehow, and surely Ludwig would have felt the same, so this way was easier.
Ludwig stared at him for a long while, Alfred squirmed under his gaze, and then thankfully, mercifully, Ludwig seemed to grasp what Alfred was really saying, what he really wanted, and humored him without bashing his ego. For once.
Another snort, and suddenly Ludwig had fallen sideways, resting his head under Alfred's chin and using that very deep rumble that Alfred was beginning to associate with him being very lucky.
"First a date, and now this. Be careful, Alfred. You're going to give me the wrong idea. That almost sounded like a, what's the word, proposal."
Well. Something like that, even if Ludwig hadn't pronounced it correctly.
As good as either of them were ever going to get, and Alfred was very quick to kiss the top of Ludwig's head, give him a good squeeze, and say, very pointedly, "Who said that was the wrong idea?"
Silence.
The rain pounded away outside.
Hoped he wasn't scaring Ludwig away by being too bold, too fast, too fervent and too overbearing. It was just his nature, to hone in and focus like that on something he wanted, whether all parties were on board or not.
But he really was lucky after all, because after a long stretch of silence Ludwig finally murmured, "Well. I guess we live together now, then. If that's what you want."
"That's what I want."
Ludwig lifted his head, pale eyes boring into Alfred's, and Alfred could see that Ludwig was judging his sincerity in that instant. Analyzing him and calculating, studying him and gauging how trustworthy Alfred was.
Meant it, meant everything he ever said, and hoped that Ludwig could really believe him.
He didn't flinch under Ludwig's gaze, didn't twitch and didn't falter, didn't look away, and Ludwig seemed satisfied, because he exhaled and slumped against Alfred, once more burrowing under his chin.
Hope.
And just like that, for the first time in his life, Alfred was somebody's 'boyfriend'. Wow—that was somehow very nearly incomprehensible. Matthew would have dropped dead right there from shock had he witnessed this, and Francis might have started crying again, this time from pride. Alfred Jones, the king of the showboats, had settled down.
Go figure.
That sense of elation and pride and ego was too much to ignore, to set aside, and Alfred twisted around enough to lean over and kiss Ludwig as furiously as he had that first day.
As was now routine, Ludwig went along with whatever Alfred did, but the hands on the back of his neck were a nice touch, and spurred him on.
Didn't take too long for him to fall ever farther forward, and once more, Alfred had Ludwig underneath of him on a couch, and once more he fell into the moment.
This time, though, when he laid his hands on Ludwig he didn't plan on pulling back or stopping halfway, and hoped that Ludwig understood that. Had to have, really, because there was little else to assume when a man pinned you down underneath him and started unbuttoning his shirt. Ludwig didn't move, didn't try to squirm out from under him, didn't push at his chest, and, more importantly, he didn't say 'no'.
So Alfred carried on.
To be quite frank, he was never going to be able to marry Ludwig, sure as hell couldn't take him up to some altar and put a ring on his finger, no matter how badly he may have wanted that, so perhaps moving in together was as close as Alfred could get to matrimony.
And well...
Felt like an appropriate enough time to finally make a move on Ludwig. He had kept his hands to himself, more or less, because up until that moment it had seemed somewhat inappropriate. Had slept with girls hours after meeting them, more times than he could count, but it wasn't like that this time. Had spent so long earning Ludwig's trust, and didn't want to move too fast and give off the wrong impression.
Ludwig had given consent to move in together, to be together, to be an official couple, and that was the green light Alfred needed.
No point in waiting anymore.
Anyway, his shirt was unbuttoned and Ludwig's hands were running down his chest, so the feeling was clearly mutual.
Ludwig pressed up and kissed him, the first time Ludwig had instigated a kiss, and Alfred, in a rather ecstatic daze, fumbled his hands down from removing his shirt and instead ran them up under Ludwig's. Hands in his belt. Could barely breathe then, as warm as it was, and when Ludwig's hands ran down his back, Alfred inhaled and was about two seconds away from ripping Ludwig's shirt off altogether.
Made a move to do it, too, and then of course there was an interruption.
A knock on the door.
God fuckin' dammit—!
Alfred's hissing inhale of breath then was from anger, fury, and he wrenched his hand out from under Ludwig's shirt with a curse. Was livid, actually, when he sat up straight, face red and hair sticking out everywhere, and Ludwig looked just as ruffled and agitated.
Ludwig spat his own curse as he bolted upright, hair messier yet than Alfred's and face even redder, and he stomped more than walked over to the door as Alfred began testily buttoning up his shirt. If it was that jerk Antonio or Anton whoever, then today was the day he was finally getting his nose broken.
And maybe Ludwig was just as furious, because when he grabbed the handle, he wrenched the door open more than he pulled it, movements looking a bit jerky and angry. Rather than a greeting, Ludwig had barked, "What?" before he had even bothered to see who it was.
Yikes.
Ludwig's voice when he was agitated was a little...scary. Terrifying when he screamed.
Not unattractive, however.
Because he was too nosy for his own good, Alfred had already stood up and made his way over towards the door, if only because he wanted to see exactly who it was that he was about to lay into or knock the hell out.
There was no sound, no talking, no shouting, nothing, and when Alfred came up to the door and could see who was on the other side, he barely even noticed them at all because he had caught sight of Ludwig and was pinned still and breathless by him.
Christ—had never seen Ludwig look like that.
As if he had opened the door up to see the entire city had just been ripped away or covered by the sea.
His eyes were wide as could be, mouth open and utterly still. He wasn't breathing at all, and it honestly looked very much like Ludwig had just checked out of the building in that moment because he looked quite spaced and dazed. Certainly no lights on upstairs in that second as he held that door open and fell into a void.
Alfred stood there just about as dumbly as Ludwig was, before he finally thought to actually turn his head and see what was so profoundly impacting Ludwig.
Well, the outside world was still intact, as far as he could see. No catastrophe that was immediately visible. In fact, there was only a person there in the frame.
It was just a man, standing there on the other side of the door.
A man Alfred had never seen, and to be quite frank had never wanted to because he looked a fright, messy and dirty and ghastly. He was soaking wet from the torrential rain, and his clothes were clinging to him and his dripping hair nearly covered his eyes, plastered as it was to his forehead. The whitest damn skin Alfred had ever seen.
Looked like an actual ghost.
The man stood there for a long while, staring at Ludwig as intently as Ludwig stared at him, and then, suddenly, he opened his mouth and spoke.
"Lutz—du bist so schön!"
A very gruff, very low, very frightening voice, in a language Alfred didn't understand and could only assume was German. Ludwig was suddenly paler than Alfred had ever seen him. As if every bit of color had been drained right out of him. Deathly pale, and very nearly yellow.
The man staggered forward suddenly, grabbed Ludwig roughly by the back of the neck, and kissed him on the lips.
And god help him, it was like somebody had forgotten to turn the gas off and then struck a match, because everything was suddenly on fire.
The nerve!
Ludwig just stood there yet like an idiot, that same look on his face and deathly still.
Alfred took a stalking step forward, very much intent on ripping them apart and then punching this very unwelcome newcomer in the face, and he might have made it there if the man hadn't collapsed forward suddenly and taken Ludwig down with him.
A loud thud, the sound of the wind getting knocked out of Ludwig, and Alfred could just stand there in that red haze as he looked down at some stranger there on top of Ludwig, and Ludwig just lied there silently and made no motion to move.
It was in that moment that Alfred realized he might have actually been a violently jealous son of a bitch.
Who the hell did this guy think he was? Who was he?
Had never seen him before anywhere, not once, and as Alfred fumed silently, the stranger lifted his head up with a clear struggle, and the way he looked at Ludwig then, the way Ludwig looked right back at him—oh, how that hurt. Seeing Ludwig looking at someone else like that.
A long silence, as Ludwig stared up at the man above him with the widest eyes Alfred had ever seen, breathing through his mouth and looking absolutely stunned.
Alfred, already feeling so angry, so hurt, felt all the more enflamed when Ludwig reached up, looking as if he were in a dream, and put his hands on that man's face.
A frighteningly dreamy stare between them.
Alfred wanted to raise hell, wanted to throw that man up against the wall and start beatin' the hell out of him, but couldn't even move. Just that look on Ludwig's face. Hadn't ever seen that. As if, somehow, a ghost had appeared in front of Ludwig and he was trying very hard to see if it was real or not.
A nose against Ludwig's, a forehead on Ludwig's cheek, a low, incomprehensible mutter from Ludwig, and then the man fell unconscious. Ludwig just laid there, pinned down, and didn't really seem to be breathing.
Alfred stared down at them, and, beyond anything, maybe what he felt was something close to betrayal. As if he had been wronged in some way, as if something had been taken from him, because, even though it was still so new, Ludwig was his.
His.
...wasn't he?
Dazed and alarmed Ludwig finally found enough sense then to look up and meet Alfred's eyes. A long, rather blank stare, as Ludwig seemed to be trying to wake back up and form speech.
Alfred was afraid to open his mouth and speak first, because honestly all he wanted to do was scream and punch things.
At least, that was, until Ludwig managed to whisper, "Is he really here?"
Alfred didn't understand.
Wanted to say, 'The guy layin' on toppa you where I should be? Yeah, he's there alright, and you better have a good goddamn explanation because I'm about to murder the both of ya.'
Ludwig seemed quite oblivious to his rage, however, and then he suddenly broke into a breathless smile, tangled his fingers in that man's hair, and whispered again, "He's here, isn't he? Isn't he?"
As if Ludwig thought he was hallucinating or something. Seeing things.
Alfred was silent, because it seemed to him that even if he did answer, even if he did speak, Ludwig was so out of it in that second that he likely wouldn't have even comprehended Alfred at all.
That hurt, that betrayal, that fury died down a little, though, when Ludwig's face suddenly collapsed, crumpled, and he burst into tears.
Shock.
Ludwig, crying like that.
What the hell was going on? His head was killing him. His chest hurt. Just wanted to know what was happening. Wanted to know if Ludwig already had someone. Wanted to know if Ludwig was somehow, someway, taken. If Ludwig wasn't really his after all.
Alfred finally found his voice, found his courage, and asked, in a deep, stiff voice, "Who is this?"
Ludwig didn't seem to hear him, fingers running through that man's pale hair with a fervor that was almost alarming, and he had squinted his eyes shut, pressing his face as best he could into the man's shoulder for his odd angle. Muffled sobbing and whispering.
Oh, that jealousy—killin' him.
Enough was enough. This time Alfred knelt down, pressing his fist into the floor for balance, and reached out with his other hand to grab a handful of Ludwig's collar. Needed an answer, and needed it now.
Forcing Ludwig to look up at him, bawling or no, he asked, again, more urgently, "Hey! Who is this? Huh?"
Please, please, please, please don't say ex-boyfriend or somethin', please, because if it was an ex then Alfred was pretty sure it wasn't anymore, not with the way Ludwig was lookin' at him, Alfred wouldn't have stood a chance, not a one.
Ludwig stared up at him through bleary eyes, and when he spoke, Alfred almost didn't understand him.
Just a pitiful, high-pitched blubber.
"Gilbert."
Confusion.
Gilbert? That name. Sounded familiar, but couldn't really seem to remember why, except for maybe—
Something hit him on the head like a rock, realization, and Alfred felt his eyes scrunch as he shook his head and cried, a bit louder than he meant to, "Gil— Wait, your—your fuckin' brother?"
Brother.
What? Wasn't he dead? Oh, wait...
Alfred fell backward onto the floor, rested up on his palms, and just stared at them in shock because he didn't really know what else to do. Was completely and utterly dumbfounded. Had never in a million years seen this coming, not this, who ever woulda?
And then suddenly, bawling Ludwig looked over at Alfred, and asked, once more, "Is he really here? Please, is he? Am I just dreaming?"
Couldn't stand seeing Ludwig like that, not Ludwig of all people, so Alfred finally got himself together and crawled forward, grabbing the unconscious man and dragging him as carefully as he could off of Ludwig. Ludwig pulled his hands up and covered his eyes with palms, sobbing away, and Alfred grabbed his arms and pulled him up at the waist.
Poor bastard, was about to have some kind of mental break any second now.
He forced Ludwig's hands down, shook him a little to catch his gaze, and when Ludwig was looking at him, so pitifully, Alfred affirmed, "He's here. Really. It's alright."
Eh, maybe not the best answer—Ludwig just cried harder.
An awful, high pitched whimper that Alfred could barely understand but that sounded something like, "How could they keep him so long? It's not right. Why didn't they let him go?"
Ludwig was utterly incomprehensible after that.
Looking around a little confusedly at the situation, Alfred could really only pull himself to his feet. Ludwig was out of commission, for a while, so Alfred didn't have much of a choice but to grab Ludwig's brother and drag him down the hall and get him up onto the couch.
Looking at him, though...
Damn. Not a good sight.
Hadn't ever looked at someone at a glance and been so taken aback by their appearance. If this man wasn't really a ghost, then it was damn clear he had almost become one at many points, and some quite recently.
Alfred stood there like a damn idiot and looked around, helplessly.
Everything was coming together in his head, and he was starting to understand.
Ludwig's brother had been captured in Leningrad, no doubt, way back in '41. The Reds had held him prisoner, as they had so many, and when the war had ended, the Reds just kept them, kept all of them. Alfred remembered seeing it in the papers and hearing it sometimes on the radio, as steadily over the years the Soviets would release prisoners from time to time, so slowly. Ludwig had a point—it wasn't right. But they had done it all the same, and apparently Ludwig's brother had been one of the unfortunate ones kept far past the end of the war.
Not right.
From the ghastly look of him, he hadn't been out for too long. Must have hunted Ludwig down, the second he had been set free. How the hell had he managed to find him, though? So many years, and so far away. Certainly a determined son of a bitch, that was for sure.
Ludwig was still sobbing away on the floor by the open door as the rain blew in.
What to do, what to do.
This wasn't exactly a situation Alfred had ever really been prepared for. Had never once crossed his mind, and so all he could really think of was to close the front door, cover Ludwig's brother with a blanket, and then kneel down before him to make sure he hadn't up and died.
Hell, not now, of all times.
Was breathing, so that was good. Had just overexerted himself, perhaps. The excitement had been too much for this clearly exhausted man, and he had fainted. He'd be fine. He'd made it this far, after all, and surely wouldn't kick the bucket after surviving however many years in a damn gulag.
Ludwig's brother finally cracked open his eyes, looked blearily around, and when his gaze settled on Alfred, he started speaking.
Didn't understand a word, so Alfred just stood up and went to go grab Ludwig. Had to physically pick him up off the floor and drag him down the hall and set him down in front of the couch. Ludwig just slid limply out of his arms and onto his knees, still a sobbing, quivering wreck, and he didn't realize that his brother was awake at all until Alfred reached down and lifted his head up by the chin to try to get him to focus.
When Ludwig's squinted eyes met his brother's, he fell deathly still and quiet, and they just stared at each other once more, as if all air had left them.
Alfred could only observe.
Gilbert.
How strange!
Somehow, Gilbert was nothing like Alfred had pictured up in head, but then again, that was because he had never imagined that Gilbert was an albino. Maybe Ludwig had said so in his drunken tirade, but if he had then the word had been in German or so mangled Alfred had just never caught it at all. Had never met one, and it was quite fascinating, he would admit. Had never seen someone so perfectly pale, and he had spent all this time with Ludwig.
Pale Ludwig seemed quite normal in comparison to his snowy brother.
Damn, though, if he wasn't a scary looking son of a bitch. Ludwig spoke about Gilbert with such adoration, such love, even after so many years, that Alfred had pictured him as some gentle-looking, handsome man. Maybe he had envisioned someone like Francis, even, as Ludwig had spoken, but damn if Gilbert wasn't the farthest thing from.
Being a Soviet prisoner of war for half of his life surely wasn't helping matters, but the point stood.
Scars everywhere, the circles under his eyes were down to his cheeks, his hair was dull, his skin rather lackluster, he was far too gaunt for his big frame, soaking wet for the rain and in desperate need of a shave. Looked like he had crawled right up out of hell. Was one of the scariest things Alfred had ever seen, if he had to offer his opinion, and he hated himself for it but the thought crossed his mind all the same that this was everything he had once imagined when he had heard stories of German soldiers.
Damn.
And yet, through it all, whatever it was that Alfred saw, that clearly wasn't what Ludwig was seeing.
Had never seen anyone look at anything the way Ludwig looked at Gilbert then, as they stared at each other wordlessly and in that immobile state.
As if Ludwig had seen something so spectacularly beautiful that it was beyond his ability to comprehend it and he had fallen into some sort of trance. His sobbing had stopped dead in his throat, the last tears lingering there in his eyes and on his cheeks, and for a moment there Alfred was afraid it was Ludwig who would faint.
The way he just sat there and stared.
That look—as if Ludwig had lived his entire life in greyscale and was suddenly seeing color for the very first time. Dazed and dumb and elated and so ecstatic that he was in shock.
And then, in that vacuum of space, Gilbert suddenly lifted up his pale, scarred hand, and rested it heavily on the top of Ludwig's head.
Oh, god—
The way Ludwig suddenly cried out then, a noise Alfred could never have hoped to describe, as he leaned forward and grabbed Gilbert's other hand within both of his own; made him actually shiver.
A rush of adrenaline, a very strange sense of...well. Didn't even know what it was, really.
Kinda funny, thinking about it. Alfred had been so jealous, seeing Ludwig and Felicia cuddling each other, and now, as Ludwig and Gilbert did it, he found himself fascinated. He was selfish, always had been, hated not being the center of Ludwig's universe, but that time it didn't even cross his mind to be jealous.
Couldn't take his eyes off of them.
To see Ludwig, stoic Ludwig, sitting there on his knees, eyes crinkled to fit that breathless smile, trying to speak every so often and only managing something like a sob instead, to see him grabbing the hand that was in his hair and drag it to his lips to kiss it over and over again with fervor, to see Ludwig swallow in absolute speechlessness, to see Ludwig so happy that he was crying.
No jealousy.
More like elation, almost. Elation for Ludwig, for someone other than himself. He was happy for someone else. An odd event, but somehow Alfred could say that being happy for someone else felt just as good as being happy himself.
Nearly an hour of this state of touching and being barely able to comprehend each other, and then Ludwig's brother finally seemed to find his voice. A low, trembling word, a gasp of disbelief, and Gilbert gave a loud, sobbing laugh, and was able to speak at last.
Whatever he said then...
Alfred was glad he didn't know, really, because it was somehow more beautiful that way, to see Ludwig inhale like that and sob.
Better not to know, just that one time.
Gilbert's hand kept on running through Ludwig's hair, and Ludwig couldn't seem to stop trying to bring it down to kiss it.
Ludwig spoke, too, finally, and his voice was so thin and high with excitement that Alfred hardly recognized it. When Ludwig spoke in German, the pitch of his voice changed, to accommodate different vowels and inflections, and the sound of it was as fascinating as anything Alfred was seeing now.
Hearing German spoken like that, in that wonderful warble.
His father had imitated German to his friends, with deep grunts and garbled cries and hisses and barks, and as they had burst into laughter and added their own, Alfred remembered thinking that German really was the ugliest language on the face of the earth.
But as he leaned back against the wall, arms crossed against his chest, the feeling Alfred had was strange. Not a familiar one.
Ludwig and Gilbert. They crooned to each other softly, almost like doves, and Alfred closed his eyes, and listened.
Gentle vowels, strange 'r's, soft hisses.
He had never heard German spoken like this before, never in that soft, murmuring tone, and he couldn't help but think that it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever heard. Easy to close his eyes then and just listen, and somehow in doing that he was able to feel just a little bit of the love and adoration and exaltation they radiated. It didn't matter then what language they spoke; could have been literally any language possible. Didn't matter, not when it was spoken with such love.
Alfred listened, and felt calm.
Living vicariously through them, for just a moment, because nothing in his own life had ever been that incomprehensibly earth shattering.
Antonio or whoever came stomping in through the door a while later, and when he saw Alfred, his shoulders braced and his chest puffed, and the only thing that saved Alfred from a punch to the stomach was when Antonio skidded forward and saw that third person on the couch. He fell still, mouth open and eyes wide, seemed torn between looking at Gilbert and looking at Alfred, and Alfred knew that he was extremely confused.
All the same, his shoulders dropped, so did his face, and for some reason, Antonio looked a little sad. He kept on glancing over at Alfred, as if, absurdly, he were expecting Alfred to give him some sort of explanation, which was ridiculous because even if they could understand each other Alfred could never have put anything happening into words.
Wasn't nearly gifted enough to describe emotions like that.
Alfred just leaned there against the wall and watched them all night, as Antonio slumped ever more.
Ludwig and Gilbert just nuzzled each other, and neither of them noticed that anyone else was there at all.
Doves.