He had let the arrival of Roderich and Elizabeta distract him from grabbing the candle holders from the basement the day they finally came to the house. It was the fourth night of Hanukkah, and Ludwig had an ugly pit of guilt in his stomach that Feliciano didn't have a chance to light the previous three on their respective nights.
Perhaps he wouldn't be mad. No. Feliciano could not be.
After the first couple of days the wedding party stayed at Ludwig's home, their lively dinner habits had made Ludwig long forget about his meals of solitude at the ranger's station close by his home when he deemed it not worth it to go all the way home only to come back so soon. Stale bread and fake coffee paired with horrible company, those who simply did not share the same world views or ideals as Ludwig, therefore he wanted himself to grow deaf.
But now, he realized if he was deaf, he couldn't hear Feliciano's singing. He couldn't hear him teaching the words to his brother, and to Roderich and to Elizabeta. The sweet Italian words filled his home that night, along with three others who were definitely pronouncing the words wrong, but had all the heart that Feliciano did. It was that night, with the singing, that Ludwig finally presented the candle holders and candles to Feliciano, who nearly cried at the sight of them.
As Ludwig listened to Feliciano's stories and traditions, he was correct in bringing nine candles and not only eight. They were a lovely silver, with details of leaves growing about the base, keeping them held up. So shiny they were, you could see your reflection in them.
It was no menorah, but it would have to do.
"Ludwig!" Feliciano cried, his eyes wet at simply the sight of them. "These will do perfectly!"
"It does not matter I got them to you late?"
"Of course not." He almost immediately took hold of the first candle and the box of matches accompanying them, but before he lit one he looked up to Ludwig, a genuine smiling meeting him there. "Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me."
The singing was only temporarily stopped for Feliciano to light the 'helping candle', which was the ninth that Ludwig had brought from the basement. With it, Feliciano lit the other four candles, and watched as they burned brightly when Ludwig turned off the kitchen lights to get a true view of their intense flare. Gilbert's eyes glowed in the light, big and bright, and each member of the table was afraid to speak, as if it would scare the fire away.
Feliciano sat back down comfortably in his seat, and spoke more of his family, their memories, his prayers he whispered to himself in the past, and once again told everyone how he was happy to have candles with him for the remaining nights of Hanukkah. No one had to ask why it was so important to the Italian, every one understood. And when Feliciano began to bow his head into prayer, Gilbert tapped him on the shoulder.
"Can we pray with you? Even if we aren't jewish?"
Feliciano smiled. "If you'd like. It's up to you."
That night, they joined each other in a small silence of prayer. Those who did not have a faith simply wished really hard for things, or prayed to the universe around them, hoping to be heard by something out there. Some thought about the wedding ahead, some about family, and others about the future state of the world. Though all slightly different, all that the entire group wanted was peace for each other.
With the lights of the kitchen left off and the flickering flame of the candles left burning on the table, the small collection of friends drank together in the living room, playing games, singing when it got dull, and once again ruining their livers.
"Ludwig wanted to be a pianist, you know!" A tipsy Gilbert shouted from his seat on the couch when the topic of music was brought up by Roderich.
"Did he now?" An equally tipsy Feliciano looked at him from his own chair across the room.
"Yes! And he was a damn good one too."
Feliciano crossed his arms dramatically and looked to Ludwig. "Then why did you always refuse to play for me?"
"Because I did not want to."
Feliciano and Gilbert were similarly peeved at how Ludwig was able to hide the fact that he was nearing drunk like everyone else, and still managed to look classy by holding his little glass in his hand with his legs crossed in his chair all nice and proper. It wasn't fair. Everyone, including Elizabeta and Roderich were getting messier as they were getting more wasted.
"That's no fair! I deserve to be able to hear you play before this war ends!"
"You're slurring your words, Feliciano."
"I want to hear you play dammit!"
Feliciano dramatically slammed his closed fist onto the arm of the couch he was squished to the end of by Elizabeta and Roderich, but almost giggled at the action himself as he was rather slap happy. He took another swig from the glass in his other hand, and let his head sway a little bit, finding it a bit hard to keep upright at that moment.
"Woah, I think you better play, Ludwig, before Feliciano gets violent," Gilbert laughed.
"Well-"
"That's right, mister! Before I get violent!"
"I'm not sure I even remember where middle 'C' is anymore."
"Well you better remember soon!" Feliciano let himself laugh at the end of his sentence this time, the feeling bubbling up his throat in a way that he couldn't stop. It didn't help that Ludwig was smiling a small smile just for him back at Feliciano.
"You're drunk."
"And it's a very fun world, Ludwig. You should come and experience this wonderful fantasy with me. Have another sip of your drink. I made it all nice and special for you!"
Feliciano did make his drink, though it was mixed with something that made it sweet, which the German didn't really prefer. Ludwig chuckled to himself, gently setting down the glass at a small wooden table next to his chair. He glanced over Gilbert in his other living room chair, excitedly having gotten into a debate in drunken German with Roderich and the new lady of the house, not even noticing that he got up from his chair. He turned again to face the expectant Feliciano.
"I will play one piece."
"Glory! Victory!" Feliciano shouted, his voice of pure glee.
"One."
Taking foot across the room and behind the couch, Feliciano watched as the tall man made his way to the little piano sitting against the wall in the hallway. So long it had only been there for decoration, but now seeing someone sit on the stool and lift the covering of the keys up and out of the way felt right. He settled himself backwards onto the couch, the loud trio still behind him, but away from his ears, as if he could no longer hear them as Ludwig again met his eyes to ask him a question.
"What piece would you like to hear?"
"A tune I could sing along to.." Feliciano's eyes began to droop as he rested his arms and head onto the back of the couch.
"Any particular key to your liking?"
"C major… it's easier.. No accidentals."
"It'd be rude of you to fall asleep during my performance, Feliciano."
"I'm not falling asleep!" His loud voice contrasted with the laziness of his voice and gaze, as it kept falling downward into a groggy state and was combined with not even the effort to lift his head again. "And make it a 4/4 pattern, easy to match the tune I have in my head to it."
"I'm sorry, are you asking me to improvise?" Ludwig took his hands from the keys where they were almost ready to play, and let them rest back down in his lap. "I was not a jazz pianist, Feliciano. I memorized pages and pages of repertoire."
"Every musician should be able to improvise at even the smallest level."
Ludwig shook his head, looking back to the instrument before him, but even the close to REM sleep Feliciano could see the small smile against his cheeks, rosy with brandy that he was trying so desperately to hide. He thought he was safe behind the fogginess of Feliciano's mind due to too much wine, but Feliciano knew he'd never forget any secret smile he caught Ludwig trying to steal away from him.
"I sure hope I'm not being graded for this," he muttered, again raising his hands.
"Don't worry, Ludwig, I accidentally left my music theory exam score cards at home, so you're off the hook."
"Very funny."
It took only a second for Ludwig to come up with a simple rhythm and scale in his head to play, assuming Feliciano had a song in his head that he simply only wanted accompaniment for. And Ludwig was used to having to play the accompanist role for many a violinist, flautist, cellist, you name it, each musician more selfish than the last. It was a horrid world bred with a competitive nature, and Ludwig would be lying if he said he wasn't bitten by that bug once in his life as well. But somehow, as Feliciano began to sing a tune Ludwig couldn't tell you the name of, it did not feel like an accompaniment, it felt like a collaboration. This was how it was supposed to feel all along, he knew it.
Feliciano's eyes were completely closed now as his head was resting on his arms folded across the back of the couch. Italian words flowed out of his mouth at a steady pace and predictable pitch, even if he couldn't understand what they meant. And once he got used to the meter and pulse of his words, Ludwig let himself have fun by adding in embellishments here and there, wherever appropriate.
When Ludwig later asked him what the song was about, Feliciano said it was about a lost young lady who was saved by an angel.
.
One song turned into many as the old night turned into the young morning and the early sunrise was just as unpleasant to everyone.
Ludwig was successful in waking up before everyone, his sleeping schedule having been thrown off its usual routine from all this sudden drinking he's been partaking in. Typically, he wasn't one to get drunk, but it was rather hard not to follow suit when you were being yelled at in three different languages to chug your drink. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't at least a little fun. But with the pounding of his boots against the pavement, it echoed in his head as he cursed the sun.
Trying to hide under the small bill of his military hat, Ludwig felt a little silly walking around town during the day when he wasn't on duty. Normally, when he'd be out to run an errand, he'd go in his usual street clothing, but what he was searching for needed a little… military intimidation and persuasion. Though there was no reason for thread to be rationed, it was hard to come by in the small town that Ludwig lived in. It was a tiny village that was secluded, but could see another small secluded village across the hill, and was circling the main city which was just a train ride away. These small secluded towns did not like each other, and often did not share their resources fairly, which is often what Ludwig was dealing with at work now that he refused to be on the battlefield, and it gave him a headache.
Anyways, the thread for sewing. That was his shopping list.
Lonely women and married ones alike spent all their time sewing and making new clothes for their children as to give them higher status at their school and possibly gain respect from the soldiers around town. It was lost on Ludwig how the more complicatedly sewn on lapel would earn the trust and respect from an officer to a nine year old child, but regardless, this forced a drought onto the town of sewing supplies. Not to mention the next town over was always taking more of their share and lying about their inventory numbers. Ludwig had never cared about some silly little needles and patches of random fabric, as he could live without them and had never learned to sew, but now that he was standing in line at the only sewing supplies stall in the town square, he realized why so many women came into his office to complain to him about running their supply dry.
"Eggshell, remember, Ludwig. Not cream, not pure white, eggshell." Ludwig was told by Feliciano only an hour after he woke up.
"How many shades of white are there?"
"Many. It's very important you get the right shade, Ludwig. It must match the dress. Remember, eggshell white."
Ludwig hummed to himself in line, his arms crossed as he remembered what Feliciano told him that morning. He had only risen to get himself some coffee to start the day when the shorter man seemed to sneak up on him, and asked him for such a favor. He explained he was altering the wedding dress, but he shouldn't reveal more as he did not want to spoil anything about the dress, as it was bad luck for the groom to see (or apparently have a vague idea of what it looks like) the dress before the wedding day. Ludwig believed in no such superstitions.
"General?"
Ludwig took his eyes out of his deep ponder and up into the light of day. Squinting, he looked before him in search of the voice who said his name.
"General Mueller," Ludwig addressed the man nearing him, then reached out a hand for him to shake. "Pleasure to see you."
"And you as well, Ludwig," he grinned, his hat tucked under one arm. "Uh, may I call you Ludwig?"
"Certainly."
"Well you were just the man I was looking for actually. I ran into your brother earlier, so I figured you were in town. Nice man, wish people didn't give him such a hard time."
Ludwig perked up an eyebrow in interest. "I agree," he nodded, but continued with a question. "You were looking for me?"
"Yes," Mueller hummed. "You see, I've been looking for some officers to recruit around here for an important position in the upper city, but all I've been finding here are privates. Lads and bootlickers and brownnoses."
"Yes there tends to be more privates here than other places."
"You're as civil as ever, Ludwig."
The line moved up a person, and Ludwig shuffled to his right to keep his spot, as he was not about to lose it now. He had lost count of the minutes he had been standing there in the unseasonably warm weather in his uncomfortable and thick uniform.
"What's the job?" he asked.
"You interested?" The general leaned forward to Ludwig as he spoke, as if he was telling a secret, but all too soon upon seeing the hesitance in Ludwig's eyes, he spoke over him. "I already spilled some of the beans to your brother. I'll have an official request for your presence with the full job report sent to your house later this week."
Mueller then leaned back straight up tall, yet still shorter than Ludwig and put his cap back neatly onto his slightly balding head.
"I'll see you soon then, Ludwig."
Ludwig said nothing in return to general Mueller, as when he turned around, it was his turn at the sewing supplies stall. He didn't even have a chance to gather his bearings, much less tail where he saw the general wandering off to. He must be still searching, and searching on his own oddly enough, as he didn't live in that town and yet he had no other officers accompanying him. But the stall vendor cleared her throat to gain Ludwig's attention again.
"There's a line," she huffed, arms crossed.
"Yes," Ludwig turned around fully to take a complete look at the items for sale. "I'm sorry."
"Oh!" the vendor suddenly yelped. "You're our general! God forbid I actually watch my tongue… my sincerest apologies sir, I did not mean to snap at you."
"Your general?" Ludwig looked up from where he was crouching over the threads.
"Why yes, you live and protect this town," she sighed. "This town is so defenseless with no major ranked officers residing here but you."
Over the conversation completely, the German man started giving his half assed curt responses once again, the ones he was always famous for. Though this woman had a strange look in her eye, and she seemed to feed of off Ludwig's uncomfortableness.
"Even my own son is just a lowly private… just finished boot camp, you know."
"How wonderful for him."
"Oh, general sir, I would happily let you take anything you'd like from my stand for free if only you'd do something in return."
"I would much rather just pay you."
That one seemed to hurt, as the lady almost visibly flinched. Ludwig did not feel sorry for her all that much, as he knew these women had loads of pride, and it would take a lot of effort to seriously hurt their feelings.
"Could you get a nice word in about him with General Mueller?" she almost whispered. "Perhaps help him get recruited for that important job he's asking around town about?"
Ludwig sighed, and stood up straight to his full height. "Very well," he said. "What's his name?"
"Dieter," the woman beamed. "Dieter Bauer."
"Dieter Bauer…" Ludwig thought aloud. "I will be sure to mention his name."
"Oh thank you! Thank you! May God bless you himself, General!" the vendor cried out into the square, all too happy about shipping her son away as she gathered up a small paper bag. "Now please, please take whatever you like."
Oh yes, this is what he desperately needed to remember.
"I need.. Eggshell colored thread."
"Eggshell?"
Ludwig nodded in response, and he gazed over the assortment of white looking threads that slowly faded into a tan into a brown into a black. He wasn't sure if the small amount of white there included the eggshell color. He hadn't checked the labels on the bottom of the spools. But luckily the vendor picked up one, as if it was from muscle memory and placed it in the bag before handing it over to Ludwig.
"Why the interest in thread, General?" she asked, trying to be sneaky, but not really succeeding as the rest of the women in line behind Ludwig leaned in to hear his answer. "Do you know how to sew?"
"No… my-" he hesitated, "-my fiance requested it."
"Oh, you're getting married?" the vendor clapped her hands together. "Congratulations!"
Ludwig felt the conversation leading into a longer one than just polite chit chat, and he desperately tried to remember what his brother did to always seem to get out of these situations perfectly. Somehow he'd always just manage to slip away and Ludwig never knew how. Of course it was rude, but the person he ran away from never realized how rude it was until ten minutes after he had gone, or even in some extreme cases, never realized it until maybe one day someone pointed it out to them. Ludwig was always that someone. He enjoyed calling his brother out, but now he just envied his apathy and quick reflexes.
"Brother!"
Ludwig spent no time at all whipping his head around. Before his very eyes, the messy white hair he was oh so familiar with came bounding towards him.
Thank god.
"What is it?" Ludwig asked, meeting him halfway across the square, as it looked like he had been running all over the place.
"We need to get home, now."