Chapter 9

Searching the Past

"I met Ivan when I was sixteen."

How Ludwig chose to begin the conversation.

One damn sentence, and Alfred already wanted to raise his hand in the air and demand that Ludwig stop before he even started, because he hadn't exactly signed up to listen to their entire ridiculous love story, and that was being kind.

In the end, he shut up and listened, because he supposed the only way to understand Ludwig as he was now was to understand Ludwig as he had been then.

Alfred turned his chair to the side, straddled it and rested his head atop folded arms, and settled his eyes on the kitchen window. Couldn't look at Ludwig during this spiel, couldn't, because he didn't want to be influenced in his opinion by Ludwig's facial expressions as he spoke about Ivan.

Ludwig was biased, and so Alfred watched the window and merely listened, forming his own movie up in his head.

Just envisioned everything Ludwig said, as if he were seeing it for himself.

His own personal theatre.

In his mind then, a sixteen-year-old Ludwig, handsome and bright and yet so cold, posture perfect and chin high even as he sunk under Gilbert's ruthless expectations. Presenting himself perfectly to the world as Gilbert had taught him, all the while drowning inside.

"Ivan came to do business with Gilbert. This was before we were partner companies. Ivan was twenty-six then, but very ready to take on Gilbert and be the face of his company. I was there that day, because— I had upset Gilbert. I had just finished enduring my punishment. I was leaving Gilbert's office as Ivan was entering. I'm ashamed to say I think I was crying. He tried to calm me down. I ran away, rather cowardly."

Alfred let the movie play out.

Used that photo of Ivan from Ludwig's wallet to complete the mental image. That gentler looking man, the normal one, the one who Ludwig had fallen for, a man who had not yet lost his mind.

Alfred pictured it all, but was aware that this was Ludwig's story. Ludwig, who shielded and protected Ivan as much as any bodyguard ever could. He kept that in mind. Just a fairytale.

That skyscraper.

A vulnerable young Ludwig, a child and yet not, because Gilbert had never let Ludwig be a child, running out of Gilbert's glass office in panic, vertigo on full display. A young, strong Ivan, crashing into him and reaching out instinctively, placing his big hands atop Ludwig's shoulders and forcing him still.

Didn't know what Ivan sounded like, so in his head Alfred just used some made-up voice that was likely a mix of Toris and Gilbert, but less cold.

'Whoa! Are you alright?'

Ivan looking down at distraught Ludwig, as Ludwig immediately pulled himself together as Gilbert had taught him, pulling on his mask and saying, curtly, 'Of course. Excuse me.'

Ludwig breaking out of Ivan's grip and marching on, as Ivan looked over his shoulder, brow high and half-smiling, already very interested however inappropriate it may have been, because Ivan was only a man and Ludwig was beautiful.

Love at first sight, no doubt.

"The business went well, needless to say, and shortly after the companies became partners. Ivan came by frequently in the beginning, during the merger. I was often there as well, as Gilbert taught me from a very young age how to run the business. When Gilbert wasn't looking, Ivan would come over and speak to me. I was drawn to him instantly. No one had ever talked to me, or noticed me. No one had been nice to me for no reason. I was used to being held to stringent expectations. But Ivan just talked to me, like we were normal people. He asked me all about myself, as if he wanted to get to know me for me. I don't even know who I am, because I'm only who Gilbert tells me to be, but Ivan liked me anyway. I couldn't understand, but that was the only time I had ever felt happy."

Ludwig looking cold and miserable in those photos at Gilbert's manor; that must have been how he had looked back then, unapproachable and distant, and yet Ivan had gone up to Ludwig all the same. Somehow, Ivan had managed to melt that ice, after days and weeks of relentless trying, of squirming up to Ludwig, and Alfred could see Ludwig suddenly smiling at Ivan, as Ivan finally breached those defenses. That pretty smile that was so rare, and maybe that was when Ivan had fallen in love.

But Gilbert was always lurking, and so Ivan stayed in shadows.

"When I seventeen, Ivan asked me to come with him to the theatre one night. I panicked. I wanted to go so badly, but I knew Gilbert would be furious. I told Ivan that instead of the theatre, if he really wanted to go out, then he could wait for me outside at midnight and I could try to meet him for a walk. So, for the first time in my life, I disobeyed the rules of the house, and I snuck out after Gilbert had gone to bed."

That huge glass house, looming there along the beach. Ludwig, slipping Ivan the gate code so that Ivan could wait there behind a sand dune. Ludwig, no doubt absolutely terrified of waking Gilbert, walking softly and silently, creeping down the stairs and through one of those huge doors. A look around, loose hair blowing in the wind, the sound of the waves crashing, and then Ludwig spotted Ivan and made a mad dash for him. An awkward hug, perhaps, as Ivan inclined his head to the beach and formally asked Ludwig for a walk along it.

Ludwig, entranced and unused to affection, normality, nodding his head and staring at Ivan as if Ivan had fallen from the sky.

Ivan was a businessman as much as Gilbert, dressed the same, and so it was easy to envision Ivan so out of place there on the dark beach, smiling away even as sand crept into his expensive socks and shoes. His tie blowing in the wind. Ludwig at his side, always looking over his shoulder for Gilbert but trying so hard, just that once, to feel free and happy.

Maybe, when the sky tinted a faint pink, Ivan had gathered the courage to reach out and grab Ludwig's hand as he walked him back to the house.

Ludwig lowered his eyes in embarrassment, shy and squirming and yet still smiling.

"When I snuck back in, in the morning, I think I knew I had fallen in love. I knew Gilbert would never approve, never, and so I kept it secret, as long as I could. Ivan was alone, and I felt that way, too, so we relied on each other."

Midnight rendezvous. Letters, written in secret and passed along in shadows. Ivan, knowing that Gilbert's hammer would fall heavily atop him and ruin his reputation if ever he found out, slinking out into the night like a little kid to take Ludwig on walks along the beach.

Ludwig, risking everything, absolutely everything, just to feel loved for one moment in time, to be with someone who didn't place impossible burdens and expectations upon his shoulders. Someone who saw him for what he was and not what he could have been.

Alfred could see them smiling at each other, peacefully, sitting on the sand and watching the glow of the moon on the sea. Two lonely people, out of place and trying to find their way, drifting to each other. Locked in the orbit of the other, and Ludwig for the first time had someone that could outwardly show affection and tell him that he was loved.

How monumental that must have been to someone like Ludwig.

"When I was eighteen, Gilbert found out. I've never seen him so angry. He told me if I wanted to be an adult so badly, if I wanted to be disobedient, if I wanted to be like everyone else, useless and worthless, then I could go do it somewhere else. He gave me an ultimatum; Ivan, or everything I had ever known. I chose Ivan, as Gilbert chose Toris. He was livid. He kicked me out. Ivan immediately stepped up, as he was taught, and took responsibility. He started talking about things... I didn't think he was serious, until he bought this house. That was the first time that I had somewhere to live where I felt like I had a home, and not a prison."

Ludwig, distraught and red-eyed, having been thrust out of the only world he knew, falling into Ivan's arms and burying his face in Ivan's chest. Despair, uncertainty, fear, but then Ivan took Ludwig out to this street, hands over Ludwig's eyes and crooning about a surprise. A lowering of Ivan's hands, a burst of sunlight, and Ludwig exhaled when he realized that he had a home.

Ludwig's beautiful smile, as he and Ivan furnished the house to their liking, teasing each other and playing around and acting like they were just normal people. Painting the kitchen cabinets, as warm light came in through the curtains, and Ivan coming up to Ludwig and grabbing him up, holding him aloft as Ludwig's long legs tangled around his waist. Low words, murmurs, Ludwig playfully smearing paint over the tip of Ivan's nose. Ivan lifting his head to kiss him and cover him with paint, too.

Home.

"Two months after we moved in, Ivan asked me to marry him. I was over the moon. I didn't care anymore if Gilbert really would end up cutting me out of the will, if he disowned me. It didn't matter, because Ivan loved me. So of course I accepted. We were wed three months later. The night before the wedding was the first time I had spoken to Toris since I had left. Toris was furious with me, as well, but somehow he still put it aside to come. That was my best moment. My favorite memory is my wedding. It was very small, very quiet, very private, but it felt like I had won the entire world."

Ivan, standing there outside of the door, ring in his pocket and breathing through his mouth to gather his nerves. A grown man, powerful and brilliant and accomplished, terrified of getting down on one knee and making himself vulnerable.

But get down on one knee he did, and maybe Ludwig, elated and so vulnerable, had leapt on him and tackled him backwards down onto the ground. Ivan embracing Ludwig, clenching him, because Ludwig had given up everything for Ivan and nothing could ever compare to that feeling of knowing that someone cared about him that much.

How ecstatic Ivan must have been, standing there before Ludwig that day and feeling that his life had finally pieced itself fully together. Ivan was a family man, after all, and being married must have been as monumental to him as being loved had been to Ludwig. Had Ivan called his mother that morning, crying, and said, 'Mama, I'm married!'?

No one had ever seen Ludwig before Ivan, but maybe, in the chaotic world, no one had ever seen Ivan there, either.

Putting rings on each other. Meant nothing at all in the grand scheme of the universe, and no one knew it better than two brilliant engineers, but it must have felt extraordinary all the same, because no matter how smart and collected and tactical Ludwig and Ivan were, they were still humans. Just men, just people, and it must have felt heavenly.

Marital life.

"When I started going to the university, Gilbert called me. We came to an agreement, of sorts, and he procured me a position in the company for when I graduated. I was... I thought everything was perfect. The next years were wonderful. The best of my life. I thought it would be that way forever. But then..."

The bright colors and warm atmosphere in Alfred's movie began to dull. Sepia. The edges darkened.

The genre changed.

"Ivan's mother died two years ago. He was devastated. The first time I had ever seen Ivan cry. He cried for weeks. I could barely get him out of bed. He loved her more than anything. It had always just been them, his entire life. He couldn't handle losing her. It was hard, and it took a long time, but he picked himself back up, eventually. He said that as long as we were together, everything would be alright."

Ludwig, sitting on the edge of the bed as Ivan burrowed away under the blanket. Reaching out to place his hand on Ivan's back, face devastated and eyes bleary as he watched his husband grieving and was unable to help. The awful sound of a strong, brave man crying.

Ivan finally pulling himself to his feet after weeks, cheeks heavy with stubble and eyes puffy, the circles hanging beneath, looking like absolute hell and yet trying then to smile, because Ludwig was there and someone still needed him.

"Shortly after that, I noticed that he stopped playing the piano. Everything was alright again for a while, that aside. A little after our sixth anniversary, something started changing. Little things at first. He started sleeping in. I had to wake him up in the morning. That had never happened. He stopped shining his shoes. He would go days without shaving. When I asked him about it, he would say he just forgot. He was forgetting a lot of things, it seemed. After work, he would take naps. That was unusual. It was— I think he was depressed, and I just didn't realize it at first. That was my fault, for not seeing it."

Lethargy, as Ivan lied on his side on the couch and stared blankly at the wall. Withdrawn and quiet. Rundown because he no longer had the desire nor motivation to get up and take care of himself. Ludwig, sitting behind him on the bed and combing his hair, because otherwise it was never getting done. Ivan sitting down at the piano in a moment of confusion, only to stare down at the keys and find himself without the will to lift his hands.

That awful silence and uncertainty that came along when things just weren't the same as they used to be.

Ivan, always staring straight ahead.

"He started getting annoyed easily after. He didn't talk as much. He... When I would speak to him over dinner, he ignored me. Then he started telling me to shut up. That I was...getting on his nerves. He was angry all the time, and sometimes he would scream at me. He had always had a bit of temper, always, that was nothing new, but he had never screamed at me like that. I didn't know what to say. So I stopped talking."

Silent dinners, when they used to be loving and fun. Ludwig's eyes on the table, afraid to look up because he didn't want to see Ivan grimace at him. Ivan staring ever ahead, foot tapping in annoyance even as Ludwig stayed deathly still.

Ludwig gathering the courage to finally stand and gather dishes, asking Ivan, 'Are you finished?'

Ivan resting his chin on a fist, glaring at the wall, merely replying, 'What's it look like?'

Ludwig's crinkled brow of hurt.

The home became frostier. More like what Ludwig was used to.

"One night, he was sitting at the table, trying to work on a design. But he couldn't figure it out. He couldn't get it to connect. That had never happened before. He's so brilliant. All I did was lean over his shoulder and look, but it made him so angry. He stood up and slapped me, saying that I was judging him, that if he couldn't design it then there was no way I would ever be able to. He is smarter, after all. He'd never hit me before. I was shocked. He apologized immediately. He said— He said he was so sorry, he didn't mean to, it was just that his head hurt so badly. The next day he stayed home with me and tried to make up for it. That was the first time we had spoken in months. I thought it would get better. It didn't."

Ludwig, a light bruise over his eye, beaming away all the same because Ivan held him up against his chest on the couch and uttered apologies. Ludwig didn't want an apology; he just wanted Ivan to speak to him.

It didn't matter if Ivan's hands were a little rougher than they used to be.

Ludwig was so enamored with Ivan, so relieved, that as he rested his head in the crook of Ivan's neck he just didn't notice Ivan staring testily above his head at the door. Ivan's heart wasn't in it, wasn't in anything, because Ivan was steadily disconnecting with the world and the people in it.

Shadows.

"He had headaches every day. He was always angry, always. I couldn't seem to do anything right anymore. It felt suddenly as if I was living with Gilbert again. Ivan was never satisfied. He began berating me as much as Gilbert ever did. It was my fault, I'm sure, I let Gilbert down so many times, so it wouldn't shock me to realize that I had let him down as well. He slapped me often after that, but it wasn't... I know how it sounds, I do, but it wasn't really like that. He still— He didn't hate me. Sometimes, when he was feeling alright, he would still tell me that he loved me."

Ivan, sitting up in bed in the middle of the night, hissing in pain as he held his head as a migraine roared up. Ludwig, scared and worried, reaching out to comfort him only to be pushed away and slapped. That awful look of hurt on Ludwig's face, as Ivan clenched his hair in his hands and tried to steady his breathing.

Ludwig turning from an eagle into a mouse, taking soft, silent steps and creeping carefully around corners. Cautious and jittery and easily startled, trying to do everything in his power not to shut a door too hard or make a floorboard creak, because it would set off the sleeping dragon. Ludwig lying utterly still at night, afraid to shift and annoy volatile Ivan. Walking on glass at all times.

Ivan walking straight through the door after a bad day at work, and walking up to Ludwig in the kitchen, Ludwig, the one person that loved him, to begin screaming at him. Taking it all out on Ludwig, blaming everything on him. It was Ludwig's fault, Ivan coming apart, and Ludwig would just lower his eyes and brace his shoulders and say, over and over, 'I'm sorry.'

Ludwig looking paler and less lustrous, because Ivan was beginning to wear him down.

Long-sleeve shirts.

"His head starting hurting worse, he said, and he started taking pills. When I asked what they were, he hit me. I didn't ask again. He started taking stronger drugs, anything at all to make his head stop hurting. But it just made him angrier. He became worse. He stopped taking care of himself. His performance at work dropped sharply. He started falling apart. Sometimes, when he looked at me, I felt as if... It's so hard to explain, but I almost felt as if he just didn't recognize me at first, in some way. Everything about him then was so different. Gilbert said— Maybe... Maybe it wasn't that he didn't recognize me; maybe he just didn't want to see me."

Ivan coming unraveled, undone, rolling out of bed in the morning in a heap and grabbing instantly for the dresser, pulling out a bottle of pills and throwing them back. Ludwig ever watching with concern, but knowing better than to ask.

Every day, Ivan lost just a little more of his grip on things, on his life, on his temper, on his emotions. Ivan fell apart, and Ludwig was the one who bore the brunt of his frustrations and wrath and hurt. Ludwig accepted it, because he had witnessed the decline and held hope that the incline could be scaled again. Ludwig had been raised by Gilbert to do whatever it took to succeed, and Ludwig wouldn't give up on Ivan because that simply wasn't in his nature.

But Ivan just got worse, not better.

The pills become more powerful, more frequent, and one day Ludwig woke up and realized that he didn't recognize the man sleeping beside of him anymore. A stranger, that just happened to look like someone Ludwig had once loved. Ludwig coming home, to find a high Ivan sprawled out on the sofa, and tiptoeing quickly past so as not to get his attention and set him off. Ludwig, afraid to open his own door. Afraid to speak, to move, to breathe.

Ivan had became a pulsar.

"It's not what Gilbert thinks, it's not. It's not Ivan's fault. Something is wrong with him, I know it. It's not his fault. He fell apart so fast—it can't be his fault. Do you understand? Can't you see it, too?"

...was that all?

Alfred waited, the film flickering there expectantly, ready for the next scene to load, but it didn't come, because Ludwig fell very silent, and didn't speak anymore.

The curtain fell, and the movie ended.

Ludwig's story came to an abrupt and confusing close, out of nowhere and not at the right time, and to be quite honest Alfred wanted his damn money back.

Ludwig's story was redacted.