Chapter 20
Waltz for the Moon
Years.
So many years.
Sitting there, watching that door, waiting, waiting for someone to walk through it. Checking the post and hoping beyond all else to see a letter, only to have it never come. To stare out of the window, sometimes for hours on end, watching the drive and praying someone would come walking up. To jump at every car that passed, every pedestrian, every twitch, every breeze, to lift his head up with breathless elation only to be crushed and disappointed by utter nothingness. Waking up every morning to no one there above him.
Waiting.
It had taken sixteen years for that door to finally open again, and yet Ludwig was somehow hardly discouraged by the miserably long wait.
Gilbert.
Sixteen years. Couldn't even believe it. Ludwig's happiness had begun and ended with Gilbert, and some part of him had always been left behind there with the memory of Gilbert. Had never been the way he once had, when Gilbert had been there beside of him. Life had only burned brightly and beautifully in that painfully brief moment that Ludwig and Gilbert had been together. The only time Ludwig could ever say that absolutely everything in the universe had been perfect in every possible way.
Dreaming of Gilbert just hadn't ever been good enough.
Ludwig had always worried, in some way, that being away from Gilbert for so long had perhaps affected his memory. He wondered if maybe, somehow, his memory had warped. If maybe what he saw in his head wasn't really Gilbert so much as what his mind had created over the years.
Wasn't so.
Everything about Gilbert, everything, every part of him that Ludwig had ever adored, was exactly as he remembered it. Everything was the same. That hair, those eyes, those cheeks, that voice, those hands. That smile.
Sitting there at every stage of the day and night cycle as a child, and to see Gilbert's eyes changing shade accordingly with the light. Had remembered perfectly every tint at every hour, and it was the same now. Staring into Gilbert's eyes that first day, Ludwig had known somehow that Gilbert was meant for him.
The white sun of morning, and Gilbert's eyes were pale pink. Afternoon came along brightly, and lit Gilbert's eyes up nearly crimson. Evening came, lower light, and Gilbert's eyes dropped down into deep maroon. Night, moonlight, and Gilbert's eyes faded back into their natural state of pale, silvery blue.
Could have traced every line of Gilbert's palm from memory alone, because nothing had ever been as profound in his life as that man. Gilbert was life, because it was Gilbert that had given life to Ludwig at all.
God, oh god, to have him back—
Couldn't fathom it.
The world came back, started spinning as it once had, the faintest twinge of that beautiful inferno of light and color that had once been his childhood. His time with Gilbert had been brief, but Gilbert had a way of a making a memorable impression.
That man had chosen him.
The hours felt like minutes that first beautiful night, and Ludwig hadn't even realized at all that the dawn had come until Gilbert's eyes began steadily changing color in the rising light, as the sun lit up the blood vessels behind those pigment-free irises and turned them red.
For the first time, Ludwig wasn't sure if the sun was actually rising or if it was just the light Gilbert was bringing back along with him.
His legs were numb from sitting atop them for so long, and he didn't notice. Gilbert was murmuring to him, and he heard himself murmuring back, although the majority of the words were lost. Alfred and Antonio were there somewhere, he knew; he could hear them walking about from time to time in his subconscious, but couldn't ever have found the sense then to actually look for them or acknowledge them. Not with Gilbert's rough hand within his own.
Of course, the very first thing Gilbert had said was, 'I told you I'd come back.'
Unbelievable.
Ludwig could only sit there and stare at him in utter awe, absolute and complete astonishment, because Gilbert had actually kept that promise he had made so many years ago. Could scarcely fathom it, really couldn't.
Walking about in a beautiful dream.
A promise fulfilled, sixteen years later, as Gilbert walked once more through the door.
The high and ecstasy began to crash down, exhaustion hit him hard, but Ludwig refused to budge, as the birds began chirping and the sun was becoming brighter.
Gilbert kissed the top of his hand, and Ludwig felt like he was six years old again, seeing that man for the first time and hoping that he would be the one to take him home.
Again, Gilbert had come through for him.
A hand on his shoulder, suddenly, and a voice in his ear.
"Hey. You need to rest. Both of you. Go upstairs and go to sleep."
Antonio.
Too dumb and dazed yet to function, Ludwig could only let Antonio haul him up to his feet, although he clung stubbornly to Gilbert's hand and refused to let him go. Took a long effort from Antonio to pry him loose and start walking him upstairs, and Ludwig only went then because he could see Alfred helping Gilbert up and knew that they were following.
Oh, to be in bed again, with Gilbert staring at him.
Side by side now, rather than Gilbert hovering over him, as Antonio took charge of catatonic Ludwig and threw a blanket over them and shut the door behind him.
Thought he heard, on the brink, Alfred's voice.
Gilbert's hand on his cheek, his own on Gilbert's neck, and that was the last thing he remembered as he slipped into sleep. Deep, and dreamless. Maybe he didn't dream that time because he didn't need to—no need for the dream Gilbert, when the real one was there next to him. The most comforting sleep he had known since back then.
He didn't know how much time had passed. Just knew that the sun had set by the time he woke up, the orange glow of twilight still on the horizon, and Ludwig stared at sleeping Gilbert once more as if he had never nodded off at all.
The sound of Gilbert's deep, even breathing.
Had anyone ever felt so content as he did then?
The door creaked open shortly after, and a voice called, in a whisper, "Hey. Come down and eat. Your friend made dinner."
Alfred.
Ludwig inhaled, tried to focus, and only managed it when Alfred came inside and crept over, quietly, and stood at the foot of the bed.
"How do you feel?"
After a hesitation, Ludwig breathed, deeply, "Fantastic."
Meant that.
Alfred snorted, and a hand fell atop his calf and gave him a shake.
"Come on. Get up. You need to eat. Him too, when he wakes up."
Didn't want to leave Gilbert, but Alfred shook him again, and Ludwig knew that if he didn't get up on his own then Alfred would drag him out of bed by force, and that would disturb Gilbert.
He slid down as quietly and smoothly as could, trapped between the wall and Gilbert on either side, and he had made it to the edge and stood without waking Gilbert. Couldn't help, though, but to go over to Gilbert and lean down to kiss the top of his head, and with that he turned and meant to leave.
At the last second, as Ludwig took the first step, a hand snatched out and grabbed his wrist in a vice. He looked back, to see wide-eyed Gilbert staring up at him, and it was clear that Ludwig's kiss had startled him awake. From the look of his face, Ludwig wasn't so sure that Gilbert knew where he was at. Abandoning Alfred in a second, Ludwig fell to his knees, took Gilbert's hand within his own, and murmured, "I'm here. It's alright."
A long second, as dazed Gilbert came to consciousness, and then his face calmed and his death-grip on Ludwig's wrist loosened. A look around, and Gilbert seemed lucid enough in that moment for Ludwig to attempt to haul him upright.
Gilbert obeyed him, staring away at him as he had hours before, and Alfred kept careful watch as Ludwig led Gilbert downstairs and into the kitchen.
It may have been exceedingly awkward for Alfred and Antonio, as Ludwig and Gilbert sat there beside of each other like magnets, yet refusing to be parted, and in any other circumstance Ludwig would have been joyfully overwhelmed to see Antonio and Alfred working together. Just couldn't think about it too much now, as Antonio set plates and Alfred poured coffee, and Gilbert and Ludwig just stared at each other.
They were in their own universe now, two pulsars spinning around each other at the verge of collision, and nothing Alfred or Antonio could have done would have ever been enough to distract them or pull them apart.
If they ate then, then it was mechanical and only at the prodding of the two in front of them.
How strange, having a full dining table for the first time, and with these particular four people, two who hated each other, one who had formerly hated another, and one who by all rights should have been dead.
Ludwig found himself on the couch shortly after, Gilbert beside of him, and he was steadily coming back down to earth with every hour that passed.
He couldn't stop staring at Gilbert, couldn't, no matter how much time passed, and when Gilbert finally sat up straight and seemed alert and conscious, lucid, Ludwig asked, "How did you find me?"
Gilbert's eyes ran over his face, endlessly, those beautifully unique eyes that Ludwig could never in his life had forgotten.
A calloused hand fell on the side of his neck.
"I went home as soon as they let me go. Everyone was gone. So I talked to some of the neighbors. They told me what happened, and that you'd been sent out to Austria. I went there looking for you, but no one there knew where you'd gone. So I— I didn't know what to do, so I called my old commander and asked him to help. He searched for records of you. Found that you'd gone on a ship. I bought a ticket that same day. I had to find you, I had to. I knew I'd find you."
Ludwig reached up, taking Gilbert's face into his palms, and when Gilbert closed his eyes, Ludwig was very certain that he was back in that house in Dachau, and everything was as it should have been. Nothing bad had ever happened, Gilbert had never left, and they had always been together.
Gilbert had come looking for him.
As it had been once before, Gilbert had picked him out of hoards of others. Had crossed halfway across the world to find him, had scoured one of the biggest cities on Earth, and Ludwig was bewildered by that, but so grateful.
Antonio hung at the edge of the staircase, watching them intently from shadows and seeming quite entranced. Alfred was out of sight still within the kitchen and very likely moping.
An awful thought struck him, a horrible realization, a terrible squirm of dread and despair, and Ludwig was swept under that sudden wave that crashed upon the shore, as misery washed him away.
Oh god! To fall then to the floor on his knees before Gilbert, grab his hands, bow his head, and beseech, "I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry about mother, I am, I tried so hard, but I couldn't help her, I couldn't do enough, I wasn't enough for her, I didn't know what to do—"
Oh, to say that, to admit that, to tell Gilbert of his failure and his incompetence, how he had never been enough, that he had let Gilbert down, when Gilbert had entrusted him with the care of that woman the day he had left. To tell Gilbert that their mother was dead because of him. To think of Gilbert going home after so long, wanting more than anything to fall into his mother's arms and to have to be told by neighbors that she was dead because Ludwig had failed.
A noise off to the side, as if Antonio had wanted to speak but stifled himself at the last second.
Gilbert may have loved him, but would never forget what Ludwig had done.
"Please—I'm so sorry, Gilbert, I did my best, but after father left, I just couldn't keep up, she just stopped talking, and I couldn't get her to—"
Gilbert yanked his hands back, grabbed Ludwig a bit harshly by the back of the neck, forced his head up, and said, gruff voice as intimidating and brash as Ludwig remembered, "Stop it! It's not your fault. What are you talking about? Huh? It was never your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault, and if there was someone to blame then it's me, for leaving in the first place. It wasn't your fault, and she didn't do it because you weren't enough. Got it? She loved you. It's not your fault. It should have never been your job to take care of her. You didn't have anything to do with that. You were just a kid. It wasn't your job. It wasn't your fault."
Not his fault?
Ludwig just sat there dumbly under Gilbert's eyes and hands, and those were the most confusing and spectacular and astounding words he had ever heard. To hear someone say that maybe it wasn't his fault. Beyond his comprehension.
Didn't know what to say, what to think, was quite close to either breaking down or zoning out at the overload of emotion, and Ludwig found himself suddenly standing, grabbing Gilbert's arm, and dragging him once more upstairs, this time to the bathroom.
He was reluctant to leave Gilbert even then, as he shoved Gilbert gently to the bathtub, and it was a great struggle to step back and say, "I'll find you some clothes. Get cleaned up. Rest."
In some way, even, it was frightening to Ludwig to leave Gilbert alone there in front of that bathtub, because it was far too familiar and far too close in the family tree.
But Gilbert started stripping, and Ludwig retreated all the same. Not before glancing up, however, and seeing awful scars on Gilbert's back.
Hurt.
None of this was right.
Ludwig scrounged through his closet, hoped that his clothes would fit Gilbert, sat on the edge of the bed, clenching the garments in his hand, and waited impatiently.
His foot tapped the whole while.
From below, he heard the front door close.
Felt like hours that Gilbert was in the bathroom, and it very well could have been, as he no doubt relaxed in a safe setting for the first time in who knew how long. How long had Gilbert been in the city, looking for him? At least a few months, because Antonio's first whispers of someone looking for him had been a long while back. Had Gilbert just been sleeping on the street the whole while, going from block to block and knocking on every single door, just hoping that he would miraculously find what he was looking for?
That thought hurt as much as anything else.
When he became too anxious and restless, Ludwig stood up, went to the bathroom door, rapped once, and then carefully poked his head in.
Not red—just white.
Gilbert was in the tub, head back, and was asleep.
The water had to have been cold by then, so Ludwig came in, settling down yet again on his knees and running his hands through Gilbert's damp hair. Needed a haircut, that was for sure, but had already shaved. Looked a little better now, clean and somewhat kempt.
Gilbert woke up, as Ludwig looked every visible inch of him over and was increasingly dismayed by the scars he kept seeing.
Could feel Gilbert's eyes boring into him, but couldn't bring himself to look up, instead murmuring, to himself, "How are they not war criminals, too?"
Gilbert snorted, raised his hand out of the water and onto Ludwig's cheek, and merely replied, so casually, "Because they won. Anyway, most of these aren't even from the Reds. It's your fellow prisoner you have to watch out for when there's no food."
Ludwig ducked his head, as that awful urge to cry came back up, and Gilbert was quick to give him a shake and sit up straight.
"Don't worry about it," he said, as reached for the towel. "I got off easy; I'm alive. Better for you to think about the things that happened to me, instead of the things I did, Lutz. Cheer up. I've got, what, sixty or seventy more good years to make up for lost time. You're still a kid."
Ludwig scoffed, eyes averted as Gilbert dried himself off and took up Ludwig's clothes.
Somehow...
Despite Gilbert's efforts, it just wasn't enough. Maybe in time it would get easier, would be easier to swallow, but for now the entire situation seemed far too cruel and outrageous, too devastating, too incomprehensible. The thought that a soldier could be held as a prisoner of war so many years after that said war had ended.
Gilbert's casualness and apathy somehow made it worse rather than better. Had been so desensitized that it didn't bother him, but it bothered Ludwig. Like that rifle in his back all over again.
Ludwig's clothes actually fit Gilbert, somewhat, but that was only because Gilbert was still yet malnourished. Would have been too small otherwise, but the pants were a tad long yet, as Ludwig stood a few centimeters taller than Gilbert. Not bad. Gilbert seemed quite appreciative at any rate, and when he turned to Ludwig and was smiling, he looked miles better, if only for that smile.
A twinge of optimism, seeing him like that.
Gilbert clearly didn't live in the past, as Ludwig had his entire life, and it was almost as if now that everything was over Gilbert had already let it go and was ready to move forward. At a glance, at any rate; only time would tell of course exactly how grounded and stable Gilbert truly was, but that crooked smile was beautiful, and Ludwig fell in love with it all over again.
They were on the bed then, sitting side by side, speaking softly as everything below was still and quiet. Ludwig regretted if Alfred had been the one to leave, but it was impossible to focus on anything but Gilbert then.
Although they had slept the day away, they went to bed again shortly after, slept just as easily, and as the brink of sleep crept upon him again, Ludwig knew that, not so many hours before, this had in a way become Alfred's bed, and Alfred wouldn't appreciate this.
Gilbert came first, and Ludwig could only hope that Alfred could be patient.
In the morning, it was Ludwig who was running fingers through Gilbert's hair, as Gilbert came to consciousness under his motions.
When they went downstairs later, Antonio was there yet, in the kitchen, and when Ludwig looked around for Alfred, he was disappointed and yet not surprised to find him absent.
That stung a little.
Remedied, somewhat, when noon came around and Alfred was suddenly knocking on the door. It was Antonio who answered it, however, as Ludwig found himself at his usual perch on the couch melded into Gilbert's side.
Couldn't stop touching him, couldn't stop kissing his hands, his forehead, his hair, couldn't take his fingers away, couldn't seem to let Gilbert go for any moment of time, even though Ludwig knew that, on some level, Alfred was already becoming agitated. Jealous, maybe, in a way, that someone had stolen Ludwig's attention away from him.
Indeed he surely was, because when Alfred came inside and saw them on the couch, he fell still for a moment, before uttering a weak, "Hey. How's everything going?"
Arm looped within Gilbert's like a schoolgirl, Ludwig just smiled over at Alfred, and said without hesitation, "Wonderful."
Had so much to say, so many thoughts and sentiments, but could never have possibly hoped to express them and so merely said 'wonderful'.
Alfred shifted his weight, glancing in very quick intervals at Gilbert, and seemed to be waiting for Ludwig to say something else, to speak up, to interact with him, to start a conversation, but Ludwig didn't really know what to say.
What could he say?
'Alfred, I know we just officially became a couple, but I need you to take the backseat for a while, as I reconnect with the man I love more than anything else in the universe.'
Hardly, and Alfred seemed fully aware that he was no longer the most important thing in Ludwig's life, and for it looked rather morose.
A long silence, as Gilbert stared at Alfred with a burning intensity that was very likely not intentional, and then Alfred finally lifted his chin, gave a 'hm' and a nod, and wandered off into the kitchen with Antonio.
How strange, that Alfred was interacting more with Antonio now than with Ludwig.
Officially, Gilbert hadn't even been introduced yet to Antonio and Alfred, hadn't said a word to either of them, but Ludwig didn't consider it a pressing matter because it was only inevitable that one of them would just end up saying 'hello'.
Eventually.
Saturday ended, and Sunday came.
Ludwig sat on the edge of the bed every morning, and ran his fingers through Gilbert's hair until he woke up, as Gilbert had for him in childhood.
Alfred was so quiet, and so was Antonio, although Antonio seemed more wistful than agitated, appearing curious and laid back as Alfred skulked in corners and glowered.
The weekend came to an end far too soon, and Ludwig dreaded Monday morning. Dreaded above all else leaving Gilbert all alone but had no choice. Couldn't miss work, couldn't risk that, and Antonio and Alfred were working, too. Ludwig didn't want to ask any of the other Germans, because they were still strangers at the end of the day.
He sat there on the edge of the bed that morning, and when Gilbert woke up, the first thing Ludwig said was, "I'm so sorry, Gilbert. I have to go to work soon. I don't want to leave you alone, but I have to go."
Gilbert stared up at him for a long while, and then exhaled a snort, smirked, and rasped, huskily, "Hey, what are ya talking about? I think I can handle a few hours alone. Hell, I'll probably just sleep, anyway. I'll be alright, Lutz. I got you back, so everything is alright. Go on. Don't worry about me. Hey, those Reds couldn't kill me, no matter how hard they tried. You going to work won't do me in."
Gilbert shot him a wink, slanted smile confident and beautiful, and Ludwig could only smile then and lean over to kiss Gilbert's forehead.
"Sleep, then. And eat. I'll be home soon. Just in case there's an emergency, go out the door to the left and go six doors down. Ask for a man named Rudolf. Alright?"
Gilbert waved him off, and huddled back up under the blankets.
With that, it was time to go.
Ludwig lamented that he hadn't been there to see Alfred off to work as he usually did. Alfred worked earlier than he did, and if he had even been here at all then he was long gone by the time Ludwig came down. Was starting to miss him, really, and it had scarcely been three days. Gilbert was blinding and wondrous and beautiful, Gilbert was everything at the end of the day, but Alfred was something, Alfred was the earth if Gilbert was the sky, and Ludwig needed both of them.
Missed Alfred.
Would try that night to get Gilbert and Alfred to introduce themselves to each other and maybe Alfred would settle a little and be in a better mood.
Ludwig was quite out in space, barely aware of his surroundings as he set out.
He barely made it out of the door when he was suddenly and vociferously accosted. Just walked outside, shut the door, turned around, and came face to face with Mrs. Schultz.
He jumped in fright, gathered himself, blushed, and managed a weak greeting.
A package was pushed into his hands before he could think, and she clapped him on the arm and uttered, "For your poor brother. We're all here for you now, Ludwig. Remember that."
Ludwig ducked his head, sputtered pitifully, she spared his pride and wandered off, and Ludwig could only slink back in and set whatever her gift was on the table before darting off to work. If it could really be called work, anyway, because Ludwig was pitifully unfocused and thought only of Gilbert the entire while. The dream had carried over into reality, it seemed, and all he could really do was shuffle papers absently and daydream about Gilbert.
Was still in shock.
Oh—wished he had all of those letters Gilbert had written. Wished more than anything that he had grabbed them before he left, so that he could lie in bed with Gilbert and read them aloud and somehow take them both back to that wonderful former life.
Couldn't be.
No point in dwelling on it, really. Could only move forward, and he wondered suddenly if he should take Gilbert to go see a doctor. Was certainly in a rough state, but surely not the worst he had ever seen. Would ask him later if he wanted to go. To be fair, Gilbert probably needed someone to fix his head before his body.
The community seemed eager to pitch in, that aside.
Was surprised, but perhaps not so much, that the entire community suddenly seemed to know about Gilbert. Perhaps Antonio had informed them so that they would be prepared and aware of the newcomer amongst them.
Ludwig was grateful that they so far seemed to be welcoming Gilbert with open arms. When Ludwig came back home, there was another package sitting on his steps, and another neighbor waiting nearby to give him another.
Ludwig was rather overwhelmed. Shouldn't have been surprised, really, but it was still a bit astounding to him, those next few days, as he was bumping into someone every time he turned around and found himself answering rapid-fire questions at a blink.
The community seemed to come out in droves out of nowhere that week, and Ludwig was bombarded at all times by questions from everyone and anyone. To the Germans, Gilbert was a topic of intense interest, and everyone wanted to know about him. Couldn't say if it was because Ludwig had always been so alone and those who had known Ludwig just well enough knew that Gilbert was, for all intents and purposes, dead, or if it was because Gilbert was a German soldier that had spent fifteen years in a Soviet labor camp. To them, Gilbert was practically a superhero.
As it often was in times of duress, the Germans came to their aid, and Ludwig always seemed to have someone knocking on his door to drop off food or clothes or sundry items. He was grateful for them, beyond all else, but refused them all entry. They all wanted so desperately to meet this new war hero, but Ludwig wasn't yet sure of Gilbert's mental state, and the poor thing was still utterly exhausted. When Gilbert was stronger and settled in, Ludwig would let take him out a little into the world.
Until then, Gilbert was off limits. Had refused entry to Felicia, of all people, when she had swung by just to visit.
Ludwig was impassible.
To everyone, that was, except for Alfred and Antonio.
Antonio was back again, as he had been before, every single day, hovering in the corner curiously and always appearing so fascinated.
Well, to Antonio, after so many years and so many stories, it must have been quite like seeing a ghost. Antonio often came forward, opening his mouth as if to speak, but always seemed to lose his nerve at the last second, and Ludwig knew that it was because Gilbert was an intimidating man. Yet, for it all, Antonio just couldn't seem to take his eyes off of Gilbert. Maybe Antonio shared that community opinion of Gilbert being a grand war hero.
Alfred didn't seem quite as fascinated as Antonio, and Ludwig could see that Alfred looked a bit more uneasy with every day that passed.
It all came down to Ludwig not paying Alfred attention, Ludwig knew that. Knew that Alfred was agitated and jealous, even if he would have keeled over before he admitted it. Knew that Alfred had been so excited to be 'together' as he had just claimed, had been eager to start a life together, and Gilbert had knocked them both off of course.
Alfred tried hard the next week to reclaim Ludwig's attention and affection, creeping up on him every second that Gilbert was out of sight, embracing him at times and caressing him at others, sometimes stealing a kiss and other times whispering in his ear. Ludwig could tell that Alfred was very ready to take over this house, was ready to officially become Ludwig's man in every sense, and was trying very hard to remind Ludwig of that.
He remembered, of course he did, and was well aware of it, and he understood that Gilbert's presence didn't mean as much to Alfred as it did Ludwig, and that Alfred could never truly understand the way Ludwig felt.
Ludwig felt as if he were quite torn between them.
What seemed to annoy Alfred the most was that, every time Gilbert came downstairs or out of the kitchen or through the door, Ludwig jumped furiously and jerked away from Alfred, face red and absolutely mortified.
Knew that he was hurting Alfred's feelings, he knew that, understood, but he just couldn't help it—the thought of Gilbert knowing was well beyond terrifying.
Sometimes, he wondered if it was a pointless endeavor, because he didn't always get away from Alfred's powerful arms quickly enough and often Gilbert would fall still in his tracks and stare at them rather curiously.
Ludwig was petrified. So awful, being caught like that between them, as Gilbert stared and analyzed and as Alfred huffed and scoffed and glowered away at the wall.
What could he do?
Had just been reunited with Gilbert, and couldn't stand the thought of him turning away, not now, after all of this. Just for this. Something like this.
Days passed, and Alfred had been getting so antsy, so impatient, so agitated, and one evening he had come over, stalked right inside, grabbed Ludwig by the arms and kissed him very eagerly, and when Gilbert started coming downstairs, Ludwig panicked and tried to break free.
That horrible look of exasperation and anger and annoyance on Alfred's face, and Ludwig's efforts seemed to have little point, because Alfred was still clenching his arms when Gilbert was in sight. Another frightening instance of Gilbert lifting his brow and studying them very intently. Alfred's heavy sigh, as he let Ludwig go and went over to sulk on the couch. Gilbert was wise enough then not to say a word, treading silently into the kitchen. Ludwig followed him, and felt the pang of hurt when he heard the door slam shortly after.
Oh, Alfred...
Hoped he understood how sorry Ludwig was.
The first day of the third week, it finally happened.
It was only a matter of time, really, but it still terrified Ludwig when Gilbert finally asked that morning very early over coffee, "So, Lutz. Uh—that guy. Who is he?"
Knew that Gilbert wasn't talking about Antonio, and from the rather furiously focused look on Gilbert's face, Ludwig knew that Gilbert had a great many suspicions. Hard not to, really, when Alfred had no shame and was unable to keep his hands to himself and Ludwig was just too slow to escape him.
Ludwig found his coffee extremely interesting suddenly, because he stared at it for a good few minutes as he tried to slow his pulse and steady his breathing.
Gilbert had crossed halfway across the world to find him, and Ludwig just didn't want him to ever regret that. To think that Gilbert would ever sit there and think to himself that he should have chosen another orphan instead.
Gilbert had to have seen his anxiety, because it was surely quite apparent, and Ludwig heard the chair scraping across the tile as Gilbert scooted over to him until he was close enough to press them together.
Gilbert elbowed his side, gently, jostling him until he looked up, and when he did, anxiously, Gilbert was smirking at him.
"Hm! What's that look about? I'm not that stupid, you know? I thought you would have just told me by now. No offense or nothin', but it's pretty obvious."
Could feel his face blazing red, as he dropped his head once more and avoided Gilbert's gaze.
An arm stretched out and fell over his shoulders, dragging him in and squeezing him, and Gilbert shook him rather firmly.
"Hey. What? Why you look so scared? What did you think I would do? I came all this way for you. Did you think I would just go back home?"
Dumbly, Ludwig nodded.
Gilbert nearly balked at that, and shook him harder, hissing, "I was joking—you really thought that? After I came all this way? You thought I'd really leave you again? Never again. I promised. I don't care— Ah, shit, Lutz. You don't know the things I've seen and done. You and him is nothin' to me. Believe that."
That was wonderful and awful at the same time, and Ludwig lifted his eyes back up to Gilbert, and could only think to say, sixteen years too late, "I love you."
Hadn't said it before Gilbert had left home that day.
Gilbert's smile then was quite the work of art, a masterpiece in Ludwig's eyes, and Gilbert just pressed forward and kissed his cheek.
"I told you I'd never leave you, and I meant it. So stop worrying about it."
Ludwig managed a nod.
After a long silence, Gilbert murmured, "Hey. Sorry. You know? He's probably— Well. You got your own life now. I didn't exactly mean to come crashing in like this. I know I'm probably—"
Ludwig reached out, pressed his fingers over Gilbert's lips to silence him, and let his stare then say everything he was thinking.
Gilbert's face softened, his brow lifted, and it was clear that the message was received and returned.
Gilbert came first, Gilbert was his primary focus now, but Ludwig wasn't about to lose Alfred, was absolutely bound and determined to keep him, and struggled very hard in the ensuing days, in light of Gilbert's blessing, to find a pace that he could keep up with. Hard to balance the both of them, because they were both loud and obnoxious and abrasive, and when they were face to face it was somewhat tense.
Thank god they couldn't understand each other, because they would have frequently gotten into fist-fights, no doubt.
Antonio seemed to enjoy Gilbert's brashness and rough voice, but the same couldn't be said of Alfred.
Gilbert had always been loud and aggressive, belligerent without always meaning to be, and the sound of his voice and the way he carried himself made him extremely threatening and intimidating. Ludwig knew that Alfred was put off by Gilbert in a bad way. Could see it on his face and in his stance, and when Gilbert spoke, so brashly in that booming voice, sometimes Alfred looked anxious and nervous.
It stung a little, honestly, because Ludwig knew that deep down Alfred was scared of Gilbert because he was everything Alfred had been taught to hate.
The sound of Gilbert's voice made Alfred flinch. Alfred didn't mean it, he knew that, probably didn't even realize he was doing it, but whenever Gilbert was around Alfred started looking for quick exits.
Hard for anyone to throw away a lifetime of instilled hatred.
Alfred was only a man, after all, and Gilbert made him uneasy, because Gilbert was a brash German who could speak no English and who looked so hard and cold and frightening.
Well. Ludwig had always known that Alfred was certainly far from perfect in every possible way, knew that Alfred tried his best, knew that everyone had faults, and knew, above it all, that Alfred was a good person. Alfred being leery and mistrustful of Gilbert was hardly a deterrent, after everything, and Ludwig could only take it for what it was.
Would never be able to lose any of his adoration for Alfred, and knew that he needed to make that more obvious as Alfred found himself stranded there on this uncertain shore.
The weather was ever cooler, and the leaves were beginning to change colors. So long now that they hadn't gone on their Sunday walk, and Ludwig was feeling it.
One Saturday afternoon, Ludwig found himself with Alfred. Antonio wasn't there, Gilbert was asleep upstairs, and it was a now rare moment for them to be alone together for a little while. Tried to make the most of it, despite Alfred's relentless sulking.
Alfred was pouting, silently, as he always was these days, and Ludwig snorted to himself before slinking over and settling in beside of him on the couch.
Poor thing.
Hated this, he really did. Hated this distance and this solitude as much as Alfred did.
Alfred glanced over at Ludwig from above his crossed his arms, legs splayed out and boots clunking around, and he didn't speak. Ludwig crept a little closer, and wondered how long it would take for Alfred to crack.
Not long at all.
With another quick glance, Alfred asked, grumpily, "So, got any time for me today?"
Ludwig snorted, was finally pressing into Alfred's side, and replied, "I'm here now, aren't I?"
A deep, "Hm!"
Maybe that didn't make up for all of the times he had hurt Alfred's feelings these past weeks, but all Ludwig could do was try, and Alfred was still here, wasn't he, so he couldn't have been that mad.
Ludwig made a rather grand show then of snuggling into Alfred's side, his pride long since gone, and Alfred glanced very quickly and very frequently at him, and yet his arms were still crossed, and he was clearly trying very hard to be strong and stubborn.
For now.
Ludwig rested his head on Alfred's shoulder, and after a long while he said, in his deepest whisper, "How I miss you."
A noise of agitation.
Suddenly, a movement.
Alfred's arm flew up then and rested above Ludwig's shoulders, and Ludwig glanced up at the clock. Five minutes? Impressive; Alfred had actually held out for longer than expected.
Fingers dug into his shoulder as Alfred jostled him, and Ludwig tried very hard not to smile as he squirmed ever over and twisted at the side to press his nose into Alfred's. Could see the line of tension ever receding on Alfred's forehead, and when Ludwig put his hand on Alfred's cheek, the war was won.
Alfred smirked.
A low tease.
"I knew you wouldn't be able to stay away from me for too long."
"No," Ludwig immediately confirmed. "I just can't. God only knows why."
If only Alfred knew how much Ludwig really did miss him.
Perhaps in an effort to appear more sensitive than he actually was, Alfred asked, rather drolly, "How is Gilbert doing?"
"Better than I thought," Ludwig said, and meant that.
Gilbert was doing remarkably well.
Alfred stared at him, and from his pursed lips and crinkled brow, Ludwig wondered if maybe Alfred had been wondering exactly how well Gilbert was doing for his own chances of reclaiming Ludwig's attention. Wanted that spot where Gilbert slept, and yet wasn't so tactless as to say so, and even someone as selfish and bratty as Alfred would never dream to kick a prisoner of war out onto the couch so he could have the bed.
Alfred opened his mouth, fell silent, seemed to be rethinking whatever he had wanted to say, and finally came out with a low, quiet, "I know it's not a good time, but I... I really miss you. I can't stand not being able to be with you. I don't mean to be a jerk, but— Ah, hell."
Alfred trailed off, apparently realizing that there was nothing he could really say that wouldn't paint him in a less than pristine light.
A little selfishness was natural, and Ludwig didn't hold it against him, although he did wish that Alfred could be more patient. Eventually, Ludwig would find a solution, although in all fairness it was more likely that he would rely on serendipity to find it rather than actively seek it out, as he often had.
What Alfred had really wanted to ask, no doubt, was, 'How long is he going to be here?'
Knew that, sooner or later, Gilbert would need his own place. That, or this would become Gilbert's home and he and Alfred would have to seek out something for themselves. Couldn't sleep in bed with his big brother for the rest of his life. Couldn't exist perpetually in this blissfully childlike state.
Alfred was always waiting for him.
They didn't speak after that, but when Ludwig turned Alfred's head and kissed him, Alfred seemed to calm down a little and cheer up.
Alfred was a jerk, but damn if Ludwig didn't love him to death, and they were wrapped up there in each others arms for long, wonderful minutes. For a while there, Alfred might have actually smiled. As beautiful as Gilbert's smiles, those of Alfred, because Ludwig loved him.
The good mood didn't last.
Gilbert's footsteps were suddenly heavy on the stairs, and Alfred jerked his arm away from Ludwig and scoffed, already glowering away again at the wall. Ludwig stared at him for a while, sadly, before standing and turning his attention to Gilbert, who greeted him as he always did by ruffling his hair.
Alfred stood up, too, and said, tersely, "See you later."
Ludwig watched him go to the door, and asked, quietly, "Where are you going?"
"I don't know."
An awful, pulsing dread.
Had just gotten Alfred, and was so scared of losing him because he wasn't able to pay as much attention to Alfred as Alfred was used to. Alfred wanted a relationship, and Ludwig was putting him in the corner for Gilbert.
"Are you coming back?"
Alfred's pursed lips and low brow.
Anxiety.
After a hesitation, Alfred muttered, "Yeah. Sure."
That didn't sound very convincing.
As Alfred pulled himself up straight, he avoided Ludwig's gaze as he turned to the door, and said, in nearly a whisper, "Don't know why you want me to. You've forgotten I exist."
Ludwig knew his face had fallen, because Gilbert was watching very pryingly and looked quite agitated.
Alfred opened the door, and stepped out, and Ludwig was glad for that just that once because the last thing he needed was Gilbert shouting at Alfred for something none of them really understood too much.
Ludwig followed Alfred out onto the steps, shutting the door behind him, and he reached out at the last second in a moment of bravery and grabbed Alfred's arm. Alfred humored him and fell still, but he wasn't smiling and he didn't look over at him.
All Ludwig could think of to do was to say, softly, "I'm sorry."
Didn't know why or for what, but said it anyway because he didn't want Alfred to leave.
An awful silence.
And then suddenly, out of nowhere, Alfred slumped in what very well could have been defeat, he sighed heavily through his nose, and at last he turned his head and met Ludwig's gaze.
"No," he said, in a deep whisper. "Don't— You don't need to be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. Really. I just... I just feel like I'm in the way. You don't really need me right now. I know when to step aside. It's alright. Take care of him."
Alfred pried himself gently from Ludwig's grasp, clapped his shoulder gently, and started walking away.
Ludwig watched him go, and felt alarmingly close to tears in that moment. Pitiful, he knew it, but the thought of Alfred not coming back was devastating.
He couldn't help it; as Alfred hit the sidewalk, Ludwig said, so lowly, "But I do need you."
Thought for a horrible second that Alfred hadn't heard him, as he kept walking, but he fell still shortly after, looked over his shoulder, stared at Ludwig for a while, and then just gave him a rather curt nod.
A whisper.
"I'll come back. I promise."
Promise.
Alfred always kept his promises, and all Ludwig could do was accept it, squint his eyes and gather up his composure, take a breath, and go back inside.
Gilbert was staring at him from the doorframe of the kitchen, and he knew that Gilbert could see how hard he was trying to keep it together, because Gilbert saw everything.
A hesitation, and then Gilbert said, as Ludwig had, "I'm sorry."
As Alfred had, Ludwig said, "You don't need to be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong."
Gilbert came forward, grabbed Ludwig by the back of the neck, and led him down to the kitchen table. They were rather quiet that night, and Gilbert reached out sometimes to nudge Ludwig's jaw with a balled fist, jostling him and trying to make him smile.
Impossible not to smile when Gilbert was there, but it was so hard not to feel lost all the same and Ludwig just couldn't pull it off. Had become so reliant on Alfred, so attached to him, so dependent upon him, that the thought of him leaving was almost as earth-shattering as Gilbert leaving had been.
Unfathomable.
Gilbert grabbed his hand, squeezed it, and murmured, to cheer him up, "What are you so worried about, huh? He'll be back. Who could stay away from you? I sure couldn't. Don't know if you've noticed, but you're a damn handsome bastard. No one would stay away." When Ludwig's smile fell halfway, Gilbert gave his hand a good shake, smirked, ran his other hand through his own hair, and added, "You're almost as handsome as me, you know. Almost."
At last, with a scoff, Ludwig smiled.
Gilbert seemed to light up at the sight of it, and his face softened once more.
Still, the night was very quiet, and Gilbert seemed rather subdued as Ludwig stared off into the distance. When Antonio came by later, it was he who was making conversation with Gilbert, for the first time, because Ludwig was too out in space.
Just let Gilbert and Antonio get to know each other, and pined for Alfred from afar.
Pining wasn't exactly necessary, as it turned out.
Alfred kept his promise, and came back the next day, very early in the morning. So early, actually, that Ludwig hadn't expected that it was Alfred when he went to the door, assuming instead it was a neighbor swinging by to offer assistance.
Was quite shocked when he opened the door and saw Alfred standing there, more so because Alfred was dressed very neatly and had combed his hair back and had a bouquet of flowers held out in front of him.
...was he blushing? Pretty sure he was blushing. Damn.
Before Ludwig could say anything, Alfred said, softly, "Hey. These are for you. Sorry I was such a jerk. I don't mean to me. I just miss you a lot."
Alfred stood there, flowers held out expectantly, and Ludwig was almost too entranced by Alfred to get his hands working long enough to actually reach forward and accept them. But of course accept them he did, because obviously, and Alfred smiled a little when the flowers were in his hands. Looked relieved almost, as if he had been worried he would be snubbed. Wouldn't be the first time, and with the way Alfred was it probably wouldn't be the last.
For now, though, Ludwig was desperate to keep Alfred, and would have instantly forgiven anything he did and would have equally accepted any half-assed apology he offered.
Ludwig stepped back, dumbly, Alfred crossed the threshold and kissed his cheek as he passed, and went straight into the kitchen. Ludwig followed him, as he often did, and found a glass to put the flowers in and set them on the counter. Well. Had always wondered what it would feel like to get flowers from Alfred. Felt great, actually. Something else he loved, against his pride.
Ludwig sat down across from Alfred, took in his tidy clothing and slicked hair, how handsome he was in that moment as a whole, and knew that Alfred really was sorry. Wondered if Alfred had even slept at all the night before, because it was very unusual for him to be awake this early, and the circles under his eyes were rather prominent. Maybe Alfred had been as lost in space the entire night as Ludwig had been.
When Gilbert came trudging sleepily downstairs soon after, Ludwig took the chance to take a shower, as quickly as he could, reluctant to leave Alfred and Gilbert alone for too long, especially after the prior day had gone so badly.
Oh, Alfred. Really was a wonderful man, deep down under all of his flaws.
Ludwig passed Gilbert, they bumped shoulders in silent greeting, and Ludwig took the quickest shower known to man, he was sure of it.
Yet, his panic was unjustified, as much as his pining had been.
Gilbert and Alfred were sitting at the kitchen table together when Ludwig came back downstairs, and that was a first. Incredible, actually, remarkable. Ludwig stopped short in the frame and watched them, as they leaned in a bit over the table to converse with each other over coffee.
Alfred was saying, very slowly, "Do you want to have a drink?"
It was clear enough that they were tossing sentences back and forth in English and German and trying to figure out how to speak to each other.
After a while of Gilbert butchering the English language brutally and giving Alfred a good laugh for it, they finally saw him there, and Gilbert immediately cried, "Lutz, this is impossible! How the hell did you learn? I can actually speak a lot of Russian now, go figure, and this somehow sounds harder. Makes no sense."
Alfred watched them quite eagerly, and Ludwig knew that he loved hearing German when it was spoken although he never made a real effort to learn any.
Ludwig came over, stood above them, and finally said, "You just got here. Give it time. It gets easier. I didn't speak hardly any when I came. I had to learn this side, too."
Gilbert grimaced, but seemed a little more encouraged.
Alfred interjected, as he often did when no one was paying him attention, "So, you done already? You haven't learned anything yet."
Gilbert's pitiful stare of incomprehension.
And Ludwig wanted so badly to smile then, he did, but he couldn't, because he was dreading the day when he had to turn to Gilbert and say, 'Be careful who you speak our language around.'
Dreaded it, in particular because of Gilbert's bad temper. Alfred was the bravest man Ludwig knew, and even he shifted under the awful sound of Gilbert's commanding voice. Ludwig could only imagine how a normal person would have run in the opposite direction. Gilbert would get into trouble without ever even meaning to.
All the better for Gilbert to sit here and try to learn from Alfred, maybe, so that he wouldn't have to learn the hard way like Ludwig had.
Alfred looked up at Ludwig a while later, and Ludwig could see in his halfhearted smile that Alfred was attempting to convey to him that he was trying.
Trying was all anyone could ever really ask for, and especially from someone like Alfred, so Ludwig just nodded his head and hoped that Alfred would continue being as patient as possible with this situation.
Gilbert drew Alfred's attention with his hand, jerked his thumb over to the flowers on the counter, and said, very gruffly and very seriously, "If you pull something like that again and make my little brother cry, you're gonna be the mulch underneath those fuckin' flowers. You don't even know what kind of brother-in-law you just got. I'm always watching you."
That time it was Alfred who stared in incomprehension, and oh man, was Ludwig grateful for that one.
Oh, Gilbert. As protective now as he ever had been.
Alfred, feeling awkward perhaps, looked at Ludwig and said, almost anxiously, "Say. It's Sunday. Think we can manage a walk? Maybe he should get out a little."
Well.
That may have been true, and Ludwig turned to Gilbert and asked, "Would you like to go for a walk in the park? Get some fresh air? It might be good for you."
Gilbert perked up, and seemed eager.
"Sounds great."
Ludwig gave Alfred a nod of confirmation, and suddenly they were all in front of the door together, and Ludwig felt so surreal. Going on his weekly walk with the man he was in love with on one side, with the man he thought he had lost forever on his other side. One of the most astounding moments of his life.
When they walked out, Alfred fell into his side, leaned in, and whispered, thinly, "Did your brother insult my flowers?"
Ludwig bit down his smile, and lied, "Yes."
Because that was the lesser of two evils, he supposed, although Alfred looked quite offended all the same and gave a rather huffy 'hmph!'
Gilbert was too busy gawking at everything around him to even care about Alfred, and Ludwig was fairly certain he was actually beaming like a moron as they walked together for the first time.
Beautiful.
Seeing Gilbert in the park was a dream he had never known he had had at all until it had come true. Alfred was quiet the entire walk, surrendering the lead to Ludwig, and Ludwig took his time and drew it out for Gilbert's sake, because it was apparent how happy he was to be outside and amongst trees and grass and the fall flowers.
Despite his silence, when they arrived home late in the evening Alfred seemed content enough. Didn't seem morose or cranky anymore, and when he said goodnight that time and left, it was in much better humor.
Gilbert, having gone out at last, apparently decided that he was ready for daily outings, because the next morning when Ludwig said goodbye, Gilbert said, "You don't have an extra key, do you? So I can go walking while you're gone?"
A squirm of unease. Didn't really want Gilbert wandering around alone, the way he was.
Ludwig could only say, "No. I'll make you one."
No choice, and Gilbert just nodded.
To keep him occupied and from getting too restless, Ludwig tried, hopefully, "I have a few English dictionaries up in my room. You should study."
"Eh."
Hardly a commitment, but Ludwig could only take it for what it was, and hoped Gilbert was just bored enough to actually study.
But he wasn't, and it was Antonio, in the end, who sort of ruined Ludwig's plans, because Antonio didn't speak any English either, so very little, and so Antonio would only speak to Gilbert in German, and Gilbert became very complacent with that and stopped trying to learn.
Ludwig didn't really have the heart to push Gilbert any more than he had had to push Antonio. If they didn't want to learn more than the absolute basics, then that was on them, really. Couldn't make them want to make their lives easier.
Anyway, Ludwig was happy to see Gilbert making a friend in Antonio. They had taken to each other after their first awkward conversation, and Antonio seemed to like Gilbert well enough and was happy to come over on his two weekdays off when Ludwig was working. Didn't have to worry so much about Gilbert being alone all the time.
They got on very well, actually, Gilbert and Antonio, seemed to click and hit it off right at the start. Another thing to not worry about.
Alfred seemed quite pleased as well, and Ludwig knew damn well why, although Alfred would have never admitted it. With Antonio stealing some of Gilbert's attention, of course, it freed up Ludwig's hands to go right back to Alfred, and for that Alfred suddenly seemed to like Antonio a great deal more than he had before.
These men he found himself with.
Antonio would invite Gilbert on walks, and Alfred was the one who looked excited when he saw them going to the door, as if it was his adventure rather than Gilbert's.
And yet...
Ludwig was happy enough to have time alone with Alfred, certainly, and was happier yet that Gilbert was active and content and making a friend and seeing the open world.
However.
It was becoming increasingly clear that Gilbert was quite the troublemaker indeed, and now that he had been unleashed, so to speak, he seemed to have an uncanny ability to end up in a very loud argument or in a fight. Had witnessed it numerous times himself, and had heard more than a few stories from Antonio.
The smallest things seemed to set Gilbert off outside, stupid things, utterly inconsequential things, and Gilbert would fly into a rage.
Gilbert had seemed so well-adjusted at first glance. Ludwig had been astounded at how stable and perfectly able to carry on Gilbert was. How unbothered and strong. Carefree.
Maybe not quite as stable as Ludwig had first thought. Inside the house, Gilbert was fine. Around Ludwig, Gilbert was calm enough.
Things changed outside the door, and Gilbert was violent and unpredictable. Calm one second and furious the next. Seemed to want to fight, wanted to cause havoc, wanted to start arguments with complete strangers. Gilbert snapped with the change of the breeze, and Ludwig was terrified by that.
Wished, more than anything, that he had realized and noticed Gilbert's emotional instability before he had had a key made for him, because now Gilbert was free to roam as he would.
Ludwig spent his days at work now furiously worrying every second, because Gilbert hated being cooped up in the house and loved to roam the streets, and roaming the streets always seemed to end in confrontation. His greatest fear these days was of having Gilbert being arrested and quickly deported, and then Ludwig's world would crash down all over again.
Oh god, if Gilbert were deported—!
The most awful thought possible, because then Ludwig would have to stand there and make a hard decision as whether to stay here in New York with Alfred, or to go back to Germany to be with Gilbert.
Even thinking about ever having to make that decision made him physically ill.
One afternoon, after several weeks of stressing so much over it, Ludwig hung his head over his papers, clenched his fingers in his hair, and dissolved momentarily into tears.
Pulled himself together quickly enough, because he was at work and he could cry later in the shower, but the damage had been done, and he had gone straight home afterwards, quite frantically, and had immediately ran up to Gilbert as soon as he came through the door.
Gilbert looked up at him from the couch, saw his distress, sat up straight, but before he could ask questions, Ludwig had already sat down and embraced Gilbert around the neck and said, in a muffled moan, "Please! Please, please, please don't get into trouble. Please. If you were deported, I can't— I won't know what to do. Please, Gilbert, I'm so worried, please stop getting into fights. Please. I just got you back. I can't lose you again."
Gilbert was utterly still and quiet within his furious embrace, as Ludwig buried his face in Gilbert's shoulder to spare his pride as he blubbered away, and it took a long while before Gilbert raised up his hands and rested them on Ludwig's back.
Lips in hair.
Took longer yet for Gilbert to speak, as Ludwig burrowed away there in his shoulder, and his voice was that deep rumble that he used when he was feeling vulnerable.
"I'm sorry, Lutz. I just— I don't think about it. I don't mean to. I'm just so used to that. I guess fighting is...well. Normal for me, now. I didn't really think about it. I'm sorry. I think maybe I'm not used to the real world yet. Think I forgot how to be around people. Sorry."
Ludwig shook his head, buried as it was, and muttered, thickly, "It's not your fault. I know that. But please, please. You can't keep doing that. Please. If you want... I'll find you someone to talk to, if you want. If that would help you."
Gilbert scoffed.
"What, like a therapist or something?"
Ludwig nodded, Gilbert yet holding there.
"You'd have to find a damn good one, Lutz. Think I'm a little beyond the normal case."
Ludwig lifted his head up, at last, knew his eyes were red, and said, immediately, "If you'd go, really go, I'd find you one. No matter what."
From the look on Gilbert's face, it was very clear that he would never go to a therapist, because Gilbert was far too proud and self-reliant for that, and said as much when he whispered, "I'll work on it. Really. For you, I swear, I'll figure it out. Like I said, I just didn't think about it. Now that I know how you feel—I'll work on it. I didn't come all this way to get sent back home. I'm sorry. I'll get it down, you'll see. I promise."
As much as Ludwig trusted Alfred's promises, he trusted Gilbert's, because Gilbert had kept the grandest one, if not with a slight delay.
All Ludwig could do was nod his head, trust Gilbert, and hope that Gilbert could manage to wrangle his emotions and impulses just well enough to not get arrested.
Hope.
Had had so much of that lately, and kept on clinging to it.
Alfred looked about as worried as Ludwig did, and yet Ludwig was surprised somehow that it was Antonio, of all people, mister I-am-so-worried-about-you, that didn't seem much bothered by Gilbert's fighting. As if Antonio just didn't think it was a big deal. Antonio could be quite the hot-head, yes, but it just seemed so strange to Ludwig, how drastic Antonio's reaction was to an emotionally unstable Ludwig and an emotionally unstable Gilbert.
...well, on second thought, perhaps there was quite a drastic difference. Gilbert, after all, only caused harm to others, and not himself.
Gilbert wasn't blind to Antonio's complacency, and went out walking with him far more frequently, to Ludwig's chagrin. Didn't know if Gilbert would hold himself to the same standards of 'trying' with Antonio as he did when he was with Ludwig and Alfred.
As was the story of his life, all Ludwig could do was watch and wait and hope.
And then suddenly, one night three months after Gilbert had walked through that door, Alfred and Ludwig were finally home alone.
It was the first sleet of the ending fall.
Gilbert had gone over to Antonio's, and from the sound of it he intended to spend a few days over there, potentially scouting out Antonio as a possible roommate. Gilbert was utterly tactless, but even Gilbert could see that he was intruding on a rather personal environment here. Like Ludwig, Gilbert knew that he couldn't take up his little brother's bed forever.
Alfred came home, shaking sleet from his hair, and when he shut the door behind him and didn't see Gilbert, he immediately began the interrogation.
"Where'd he go? Didn't get locked up, did he?"
Ludwig snorted from over his coffee, because that was a valid question and Alfred being worried about Gilbert made him oddly happy.
Alfred always tried his best.
"No. He's spending the night with Antonio. He might try to move in over there. Antonio needs a roommate."
Just like that, Alfred lit up like the sun.
"You mean I finally have my bed, huh?"
From the way Alfred had come up behind him and placed hands on his shoulders to lean over and whisper that in his ear, Ludwig was pretty certain that Alfred was very much intending to make up for lost time.
"It looks that way."
Because it was Alfred's bed, after all, had been from the moment Ludwig had told him they lived together. Just hadn't had the chance to claim it.
Alfred squeezed his shoulders, and snorted.
Nearly shivered there under Alfred's warm hands.
Sure enough, Ludwig had been right about Alfred, because he wasn't even allowed to finish his coffee before Alfred had grabbed him by the arm and hauled him forcibly upright. Ludwig didn't even get a chance to say anything at all, not with Alfred grabbing him up and kissing him so furiously that he couldn't even breath, let alone hope to get a word out.
A long, breathless moment of being immobile in Alfred's powerful grasp, and then the next thing Ludwig knew he was being very nearly carted upstairs. From the awkward way Alfred had jostled him for a moment there, Ludwig was fairly certain that Alfred had actually been intending to pick Ludwig up and sling him over his shoulder, but had decided against it at the last second.
...what a shame.
Next time, maybe. Alfred certainly had the muscle for such a feat, although Ludwig was by no means a small man.
Instead, Alfred merely clenched him by the waist and forced him backwards up the stairs as Alfred held him steady from one step beneath, and somehow they made it to the top without anyone breaking their neck or breaking that kiss. Alfred seemed to grow more impressive with every day that passed. Not that Ludwig had anyone or anything to compare him to, but Ludwig was confident in Alfred's abilities. If only because Alfred was, perhaps.
Alfred didn't exactly shove him through the bedroom door straight away, to be fair, nearly slamming him into it instead in his eagerness and pinning him there. Had nearly knocked the wind out of him. Could never accuse Alfred of being less than enthusiastic with most things he did.
As usual, all Ludwig could really do was hang on for the ride, because Alfred did what he wanted.
Sometimes it was much more pleasant than others, and before long his fingers were tangled in Alfred's messy hair as Alfred's lips ran down his neck. Ludwig supposed that a downside of being taller than Alfred was the ease it gave Alfred to assault his neck. ...downside? Well. That was a bit far. Maybe not a downside so much as a perk, because Alfred seemed to be very much taking advantage of it.
A shift of Alfred's weight, a fumble, as he searched blindly for the doorknob and twisted it, nearly sending them backwards onto the floor when he turned it and the door flew open under their weight. Alfred caught him skillfully enough and corrected their balance.
It was quite warm suddenly, the air seemed far too heavy, and while Ludwig was sure he would rather be in this time and place right now than anywhere else on earth, there was an undeniable rise of anxiety with every step back Alfred shoved him.
Nervousness.
Too much pressure, in a way, and it made his head spin quite a bit to stand there and actually realize what was about to happen. Had been kissed for the first time so recently, and he felt quite overwhelmed. Inadequate, standing next to someone like Alfred, who had obviously been around the block, so to speak. Literally, no doubt, as much of a show off as he was.
Ah, no good to be thinking of exactly how many other people had found themselves clenched in Alfred's hands. He was the one here now, and focus was recommended. Very hard to find it though, because he was desperate just to not think much about it or otherwise he very well could have dropped dead there in Alfred's arms from sheer terror and humiliation.
Had never touched anyone.
Panic was far too close to the surface when Alfred finally hit the edge of the bed and rather unceremoniously shoved him by the chest back down onto it. Didn't have time to berate him or run away screaming, though, because Alfred quite heavily fell atop him and pinned him there.
Oh no—
No getting out of it now. Not that he wanted to, but did he ever, and he knew that that made absolutely no sense but he was so nervous then that he didn't know which way was up and what he wanted and knew even less of what to do or expect.
Helplessness.
Ludwig was grateful, more than he could ever have expressed in words, that Alfred at least hadn't flipped the light on at the last second. Would have been far too self-conscious and mortified to have ever let Alfred get this far.
Oh, man, where had his shirt gone? And his belt, for that matter.
He had been terribly distracted.
The light of the city struggled to break in through the thin blanket thrown over the window, casting the room in pale shades of grey and blue.
Alfred's fingers were fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, and Ludwig was still immobilized in panic. Alfred's shirt vanished shortly after, apparently lost in that same black hole that Ludwig's had fallen into. The feel of Alfred's warm skin against his own. Rough hands, running down his sides.
The sound of a zipper, as Alfred urgently tried to get rid of his pants.
And then, suddenly, a hesitation.
Alfred randomly pulled back a bit, chest heaving and breath so heavy in his ear, and then he asked, huskily, "Hey— You ever done this before?"
A moment of fear and anxiety, and Ludwig froze up, because he didn't want to be honest but knew he couldn't lie.
After an awkward hesitation, Ludwig just breathed, "No."
A long silence, and then Alfred hissed air through his teeth and pulled back just a bit, cursing, "Shit."
Immediately, Ludwig said, as he did far too frequently these days, "I'm sorry."
Wanted an out in some way, but didn't want Alfred to stop at the same time.
Alfred snatched out, grabbed his jaw a bit more forcefully than he probably meant to, and griped, "Stop sayin' that, won't'cha?"
Ludwig opened his mouth to say again, 'I'm sorry,' and cut him himself off halfway at the stern look Alfred shot him.
Didn't know why he had been saying it so much lately, except for perhaps that he was so nervous. His desperation, as it was, to keep hold of this wonderful situation in which he found himself. Had security, had stability, had two people that loved him and that he loved more than anything, and didn't to ruin it again.
He was such bad luck, after all.
Alfred released that painful grip, his expression softened, and he whispered, as he once more resumed freeing himself of his pants, "I liked it better when you told me what was what."
Could have been the nervousness, could have been reassurance, or it could have just been him siphoning confidence from Alfred as he so often had. Whatever it was, that awful anxiety calmed, the terror faded, nervousness abated, and when Alfred's clumsy hands began tugging furiously at Ludwig's pants, Ludwig squirmed helpfully out of them while chiding, gruffly, "Why is this taking you so long? Have you never dressed yourself?"
He was still very perfectly capable of telling Alfred what was what, and always would be. Lord knew someone had to keep that peacock in check.
Alfred scoffed, and griped, "I take it back."
No, he didn't, and it was obvious from the way Alfred threw the last articles of clothing across the room with zeal and fell forward.
Ludwig found his hands flying up to Alfred's back to tug him down farther, because he had been thrust into far more terrifying situations than this, with no one there beside of him.
No need to fret when Alfred was near.
A knee wound up between his legs, as Alfred all but attempted to suffocate him with that never-ending kiss, his own hands having long since wound up on Alfred's broad shoulders.
Their eyes met when Alfred pulled back, and Ludwig hoped that Alfred could see that he wasn't nervous anymore. That Alfred could somehow sense and understand everything Ludwig was feeling in that moment, because it was too intangible to express aloud.
A whisper in his ear, as Alfred leaned forward.
"Just tell me if I hurt ya or something, alright? If you want me to stop. Just say something."
Impossible. Would have been far too beyond mortified to ever think of such a thing, but Alfred had fallen utterly still above him and made no motion to continue as he waited for Ludwig's response.
With little choice, Ludwig nodded his head.
Not good enough, apparently, for Alfred pressed, "I mean it. I know you. You won't say anything at all."
This entire ordeal, this entire act, was rather sensational enough as it was, and yet somehow it was that simple statement from Alfred that meant the most to Ludwig then. 'I know you.' No one ever had, not truly. Nothing more than what Ludwig presented on the surface. Nothing that the world could see, beneath the ice and distance.
No one had ever loved him in this manner before Alfred, and it seemed astronomically improbable that their crossed paths could have ever entangled them in this way, and yet for it all Ludwig found everything then to be perfectly in order. Alfred did know him, after all, as much as Ludwig knew Alfred, and perhaps in that sense they were meant to be.
Everything was right, suddenly.
For the first time since Gilbert had left that day, it felt as if the world around him was once more as he wanted it to be.
When his hands came to rest on Alfred's face, Alfred closed his eyes, for just a moment, and Ludwig hoped that if he could take a sense of confidence from Alfred, then Alfred could take from him that sense of calm.
Wanted that more than anything.
Perhaps he could, because when Alfred opened his eyes, he spoke, and what he said then was the first real attempt that either one of them had ever given to express any sort of emotional sentiment.
"I think I'm in love with you."
Dazed elation.
That was the last either of them spoke, as Alfred's words hung there over the silence.
Hands running down his thighs. Heavy breathing.
Lately, it seemed that Ludwig had been considering that he was having 'the best moment' of his life. Between Alfred and Gilbert, there was so much to look forward to, so much to be happy about. So many things, and so maybe Ludwig couldn't say that this was one of the best moments of his life, but it was certainly the time in his life that he had felt the most important.
Worth something to someone, worth time and love, outside of the familial sphere.
Having someone go from being a stranger to a lover and the entire wonderful in between.
A fair bit of pain.
Alfred was surprisingly tentative and careful those first few minutes, as he apparently tried his best to keep from hurting Ludwig, and it seemed to take him quite a while to realize that Ludwig wasn't panicking, wasn't scared, that Ludwig really did trust him. Once he finally seemed to grasp that, Alfred become more, well, Alfred, more commanding and in charge and confident, more forward and bold and forceful.
Ludwig just clung to Alfred's shoulders the whole while, pressing his lips into Alfred's neck and running hands down his back in intervals.
The wondrous sound of Alfred's heavy breathing in his ear.
Every second felt much like an hour, those beautiful moments, that passage of time that that would be a memory in the morning and for it was more remarkable as it was happening.
Surreal.
Every so often Alfred would lean forward and kiss him, and Ludwig's fingers would tangle in his damp hair, heart thudding and wonderfully ecstatic at the rush of elation that only Alfred could ever really give him.
Alfred's rough hands gripped his thighs for balance, and Ludwig wondered if he really needed to because Ludwig's long legs were wrapped around him so tightly that it was unlikely they would ever be able to untangle themselves afterward.
Ludwig would have been perfectly content with that.
The sleet outside hammered away on the window.
He lost track of time, and could never have said how long it had been that he had been entangled there in Alfred before Alfred collapsed down on top of him heavily, chin digging into his collarbone and panting for air.
The creep of time, that slow lull of being in love.
His hands ran restlessly over Alfred's shoulders, through his hair, down his neck, his back, so fascinated yet by the feel of him that Ludwig just couldn't stop touching him.
A long, comfortable silence, as Alfred caught his breath.
Alfred's chest air agitated him enough to itch, but Ludwig didn't dare squirm because he didn't want Alfred to move. Would have kept him there for eternity were it possible.
Alfred seemed as reluctant to move, and stayed there above him without attempting to move a muscle.
And then a deep, rumbling giggle from Alfred.
"So," Alfred suddenly said, out of nowhere, "You ever gonna tell me what I said to make you laugh so hard? I forgot to ask."
The comforting feel of Alfred's weight above him. Security.
A snort, and Ludwig drawled, "Sure. Why not? You asked me if you could spend the night naked. I have to say, I didn't ever think it was going to happen."
Alfred laughed, loudly, and seemed quite pleased somehow.
Afterwards, Alfred said, rather proudly, "Well! I'm very convincing. I don't take 'no' for an answer."
Ludwig just muttered, "I noticed."
Alfred lifted his head, met Ludwig's gaze, and Ludwig could only sweep Alfred's hair off of his damp forehead and out of his eyes. Alfred closed his eyes at the touch, and was quiet after that.
They lied there for a good long while in the dull city light, drifting in and out under the sound of ice clinking against the window.
Somehow, Ludwig didn't feel awkward at all when Alfred rolled off of him later and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and sitting there idly. Ludwig turned onto his side, watching Alfred's back, and what he felt then was something strangely like...
Couldn't put his finger on it, really, but he knew that it was wonderful. It was that feeling of home that he had once had, that sense of safety, that imaginary bubble that Ludwig had lived within that had shielded him from the outside world. The feeling of loving and knowing that he was loved in return, that someone out there wanted him and would seek to protect him. Of belonging.
Home.
Alfred's back, lit up in the faint glow of the outside lights, and when Alfred looked over his shoulder and back down at Ludwig, he felt at peace once more.
Tranquility.
A slanted smile, a long stare, and then Alfred stood up, and Ludwig followed him, as he would have anywhere. The evening carried on as normally as it always did, if not with brighter smiles and more playfulness.
Alfred seemed oddly subdued, rather calm and easy-going. In that moment, unkempt and messy and with that look on his face, Ludwig found Alfred to be beautiful.
That night, he fell asleep with Alfred's arm thrown over him, and in the morning he awoke to find himself pressed into Alfred's side.
That wondrous feeling—home. Recognized it instantly, because it was the most unforgettable sensation a man could ever feel. Being home.
A new routine, a new relationship, a new settling of the ground beneath their feet.
Alfred was his, and he was Alfred's, and this was their home for now. Their bed. Alfred leaned over the table and kissed him before he went to work, and Ludwig came up to Alfred and ran a hand down Alfred's cheek when he walked in through the door in the evening.
Ludwig's life had merged into Alfred's, and it was theirs.
When they went out together after that, no matter where or when, Alfred would always place his hand on Ludwig's back, and would very frequently grab his hand, and all they saw in those moments was the other.
Alfred had never been a discreet person, not once in his life, and never stopped to really think twice about the things he did or said, even right there in front of the world in its entirety, and when Ludwig was with him he got caught up in it. It was so easy to feel safe and secure around Alfred, and Ludwig was so entranced by him that it was easy to forget everything else.
In that blissful daze they were in, it never really seemed to occur to either one of them that the outside world didn't feel the way they did.
Ludwig was so bolstered by Gilbert's presence that he felt remarkably invincible, and he had never felt like that. For the second time in his life, Ludwig was in that wondrous, protective sphere of home, and time once more slowed as he fell into the warmth and safety of Alfred and Gilbert.
He felt invulnerable, and for that was blind to anything that wasn't Gilbert or Alfred, and neither of them had ever been afraid of anything.
Alfred was too bold and fearless and confident to ever truly be cautious, to ever notice anything unpleasant, and even if Alfred had come across something he disliked it wouldn't matter, because Alfred wasn't afraid of anything. Nothing mattered to Alfred, nothing at all, as long as he was focused on what he wanted. Nothing shook him, nothing phased him, nothing knocked him off course, nothing scared him.
All Alfred could see was his goal.
All Ludwig could see was Alfred.