Chapter 13

Snow Flower

November.

Ludwig's defenses fell, the thorns around the tower withered, and Alfred could finally see the window at which Ludwig sat. Could see him in the light from behind, and Alfred was fairly certain that Ludwig had noticed Alfred there in turn.

Wasn't coming down from the tower, no, but was peering out.

Alfred could only try to desperately get Ludwig's attention.

Ludwig was waiting eternally for the prince, and so Alfred tried to show him that the knight could be just as good, really, if Ludwig would give him a chance. If Ludwig would just put Ivan out of his mind for a day, one day, he would see that Alfred could be everything he needed.

Alfred tried to distract Ludwig from Ivan in the only way he knew how :

By being loud, chatty, boisterous, friendly, charming, and constantly in motion.

If Alfred were loud and bright and shiny enough, Ludwig would eventually just forget about Ivan, would steadily lose that love, would let it go at long last, and it would be better for him.

Alfred's affection for Ludwig had long since gone past just friendship and protectiveness.

Had Gilbert axed him any day then, had it all been over, had Ivan finally signed those damn papers and let go, Alfred would have stayed. Wanted to stay, didn't want to leave. Wanted to stay with Ludwig, because Ludwig was the only good thing he had in his life. Nowhere else to go, and no one waiting.

Ludwig needed Alfred.

Ludwig was always nervous outside the door, because the threat of Ivan was perpetual, constant, and worst of all invisible. Ivan hung back in shadows, lurked, stayed silent and watched from afar, lying in wait. The worst kind of threat was one you couldn't see, one that was irrational and impulsive and highly unpredictable.

Alfred didn't know when Ivan was coming, where or why, would he would do, and that was the worst.

Ludwig was antsy, anxious, uneasy, and so Alfred did his best to distract Ludwig from that when they were outside. Tried to get Ludwig to focus on him instead of the possibility of Ivan. Tried to draw Ludwig's eyes and keep them there, to soothe his nerves, to give him any little kind of reprieve from his constant fretting.

Ludwig's life was one endless circle of stress, and Alfred just wanted to help take away some of the pressure.

Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn't.

But Alfred tried, and Ludwig knew it.

These days, good moods from Ludwig at home were the norm, and not the exception. Ludwig was lighting up, burning ever more brightly, and in doing so he was dragging Alfred in like the pitiful moth he was.

Alfred had grown up in a very different environment than Ludwig had, had different ways of going about things, and where Alfred was from things were quite unalike. The South was a world apart from New York City, it was, and Alfred may have been out of place, but it was hard to entirely let go of the habits that were instilled from a young age.

Ludwig, for his part, was taking Alfred in good stride, and had gotten used to him opening doors by then. On Tuesday, when Ludwig went to his car, Alfred made sure to run up and open the car door, too, and then once more when they arrived at Gilbert's house.

Was he pitiful? He wasn't pitiful, surely, he was just polite, was all. Back home, men opened doors still and took charge for the most part, and Alfred had always known he was expected to perform those duties.

Anyway, Ludwig smiled.

When Ludwig grew accustomed to the door-opening and coat-holding, Alfred stepped his game up ever more.

If Ludwig was the damsel, Alfred was trying very hard to fulfill his role as knight.

In the kitchen, Alfred was suddenly pulling the chair out for Ludwig during meals. When Ludwig made to stand, Alfred was quick to extend his hand helpfully. When walking in the city, Alfred kept Ludwig away from the street. On the subway, Alfred pressed Ludwig back into any available corner and stood protectively in front of him.

Ludwig just always looked over at him with a high brow, clearly a bit exasperated. Alfred was very aware that his 'damsel' might one day end up shanking him if he kept it up, but, eh, nothing for it. He was who he was, and all Ludwig could do was put up with him.

Around the house, Alfred took over the roles that a husband would have, since, well—Ludwig was the housewife, after all. If Ludwig was going to cook and clean and patch up his brother's clothes, then he was certainly the domestic half, and Alfred needed to do his part in this strange little relationship they had.

He fixed things when they broke, he took the trash out, he made sure everything was safe and secure. He checked the windows and doors at night. He carried the grocery bags inside.

And the light bulbs!

Dear god, the light bulbs.

When Alfred came out of the shower one Sunday morning, it was to see Ludwig standing atop a small ladder in the kitchen, very obviously unscrewing a dead light bulb, and it was silly, but Alfred felt a jolt of adrenaline all the same. Ludwig was clearly nervous as hell up there, swaying a little precariously, and Alfred didn't know why the hell Ludwig hadn't waited for him to get out of the shower and then asked him to change the light bulb.

Ludwig, with his deathly fear of heights, probably shouldn't have been up on that ladder.

Stubborn, as always. Ludwig didn't seem to realize that Alfred wanted Ludwig to come crying to him about every little thing, because Alfred's ego had nothing else to feed off of. Or Ludwig knew, more likely, and just didn't care.

Ludwig was swallowing, tottering, uncomfortable and no doubt feeling a little dizzy, and because Alfred liked Ludwig's neck a lot better when it was unbroken, he rushed forward. A bit of a sneak attack, as he grabbed Ludwig around the waist from behind, despite the fact that he had yet to put a shirt on and his hair was dripping a little.

At the touch, at the movement, Ludwig actually cried out, no doubt thinking he was falling. An actual vocal noise of distress, nearly a shriek, and Alfred was just as surprised to hear stoic Ludwig make that sound as much as he had been to hear him laugh the first time.

Hoped that noise, however, was not one he would become accustomed to.

It was shocking that Ludwig hadn't dropped the new bulb he was clenching in his right hand, and Alfred held Ludwig very steady there atop the ladder, as Ludwig looked down at Alfred from over his shoulder.

Looked terrified, poor thing, and opened his mouth to immediately lay into Alfred.

Alfred denied him the chance and said, cheerily, "How many aeronautical engineers does it take to change a light bulb?"

At this rate, about three.

A hiss of annoyance from Ludwig, who primly ignored him and very quickly finished screwing in the new bulb. Alfred might have held Ludwig aloft for a bit longer than was necessary, but that was only because Ludwig was quite warm under his arms and he was able to press his face into Ludwig's shirt and smell him, and that was quite a good reason to drag it out.

When the dreaded light bulb changing was complete, Alfred all but picked Ludwig up and set him down on the safe floor, the heavy bastard, and Ludwig was quick to squirm around, Alfred's hands still stubbornly clinging to his waist, and chide, "Alfred! You coulda made me break my neck!"

...kinda what Alfred had wanted to avoid.

Unfazed, Alfred merely met Ludwig's eyes and tossed out, "Let me do all of the handy-work. Sorry to say that vertigo isn't a worthy cause of death. Stay off the ladders, won't ya? With all due respect, stick to the cooking and cleaning."

Ballsy of Alfred, a nobody bodyguard, to be telling an engineer to stay away from basic housework. Had Ludwig had half a mind to, he could have given Alfred a good beating. But he didn't, and so here they were.

Ludwig scoffed, mouth dropped open in offense, and then he glanced down and seemed to realize that Alfred was still holding him steady. His testy look faded, and when Ludwig realized that Alfred was shirtless and damp-haired from the shower, his face once more blazed unholy red.

Alfred reached down, took the dead bulb from Ludwig's hand, and added, "Light bulbs are my department from now on, got it?"

He bopped Ludwig's nose with the dead bulb, walked over and tossed it in the trash, and felt himself smirking away because during his glaring Ludwig was very frequently glancing down at his shirtless torso.

Alfred may not have had many things going for him in his life, but one thing he actually had good luck with was his looks. He was handsome, and knew it. Ludwig seemed to be noticing more and more, and Alfred could count his blessings for that. If Ludwig couldn't forget Ivan on his own, then maybe Alfred could just try to blind him instead, though Ludwig likely wasn't that shallow if he had married Ivan to begin with. Just like Alfred, Ludwig was only human, and far from perfect. Alfred could only use what he had.

The days passed, and the weather grew colder. Wetter.

Snow fell frequently, and Ludwig no longer went on Saturday jogs. Alfred liked to think that it was because Alfred had actually broken Ludwig of a routine, rather than just it was too cold and miserable outside. Alfred enjoyed imagining that he had more influence over Ludwig than he likely did.

However Ludwig may have felt about Alfred, it was still wonderful to sit there with him every night on the couch.

Ludwig hadn't had any wine since the night at the theatre, and Alfred was undeservedly proud of himself for that as well.

Alfred tried hard to pretend that Ludwig was falling for him, although Ludwig had given zero indication of holding any interest in Alfred that wasn't merely platonic. Ludwig hadn't yet closed the gap between them on the couch, didn't hold Alfred's hand any longer than necessary during any task, never leaned in too far when he spoke, and didn't vocally respond to Alfred's increasingly bold flirtations.

...for now.

Every day, though, Ludwig blushed less and less at Alfred's teases, and Alfred felt that he was close to getting retorts.

He was; the first retort came in the third week of November, when the company was on a week-long holiday. It was snowing again, humid and damp, the worst kind of weather, and they had made a quick grocery run to last them the week.

Alfred, being the dutiful husband, was carrying the majority of the bags, and, well—maybe he was taking this 'husband' role a bit too far, because when they reached the door, Alfred had spied a large spider crawling across it, probably seeking shelter for the winter. And it was stupid, it was the stupidest thing Alfred had ever done, but goddamn it all if he hadn't set the grocery bags down, held a hand up to halt Ludwig, and then leapt forward with a burst of protectiveness.

She had been deathly afraid of spiders, as terribly as Ludwig was of heights; force of habit.

Alfred grabbed the spider up in his hand and meant to toss it over the railing, but fell still for just a second when Ludwig crossed his arms and thrust out his hip, face droll and shaking his head. That look clearly read, 'Did you just serve as my bodyguard against a spider?'

Oh, shit—!

It was Alfred that time who blazed furiously red, feeling like the biggest idiot on the face of the planet as Ludwig's look of complete and utter disgust was out on full display.

Goddammit, goddammit, goddammit—

Alfred could only do what he always did and fake it, and he set his face, squared his shoulders, and tossed the little bugger over the side of the railing, face on fire and heart thudding. Felt an absolute fool, yup, and yet still he stomped over and wrenched the door open.

May as well go all the way.

Ludwig stood there for a long while, crinkled his nose, turned back to eye the fleeing spider, and then Ludwig heaved a sigh and spared Alfred the heart attack by taking a step.

And yet...

As Ludwig passed Alfred, his posture changed quite a bit. Loosened, relaxed, and Alfred was about a thousand percent certain that Ludwig sauntered a little there, through the doorframe. Holy hell! He did saunter, Alfred was so sure, and then Ludwig glanced at him in passing and crooned, deeply, "My hero."

Alfred winced, just a bit, but didn't mind the jab because his ego had already exploded under that beautifully teasing look Ludwig had sent him.

Whew!

As usual, as soon as Ludwig was no longer looking, Alfred scoped out his legs, quite fixedly, and then darted back to snatch up the groceries and bring them in.

Ludwig was very coy and very quiet, glancing frequently at Alfred from the corner of his eye, and Alfred knew that, sooner or later, he was in for it.

Alfred waited for it, waited and waited and waited, but Ludwig was keen to drag it out, and it was when they were sitting over dinner and Alfred was letting his guard down that Ludwig finally glanced up at him and began tearing him apart.

"So, Alfred," Ludwig began, in an enthrallingly sultry voice, steepling his fingers and staring Alfred down from above, "I wonder—was it in your contract to protect me from mother nature as well? Did Gilbert demand that you also keep me from straining my wrists carrying groceries? Do you earn a bonus for each door you open? Did Toris ask that you take the trash out to save me the hassle? Also, tell me, because I am so desperately curious—is it only eight-legged creatures you worry about? For I once saw a centipede here in the kitchen. I thought you should know."

How Ludwig's voice gone any deeper, it would have been a frequency inaudible to Alfred's ears, and Alfred felt once more the burning of his face as he tried to remain stoic.

He failed, a little, staring at Ludwig without blinking, fork scraping mindlessly on his plate, lips pursed and shoulders high.

Humiliating, especially when Ludwig looked so much like Gilbert in that moment.

...and yet also very satisfying, given that Ludwig was looking him up and down with scrutiny.

Was he flexing? Might have flexed.

Despite the red of his face, Alfred managed to keep his voice very steady when he replied, stiffly, "My contract was to protect you from everything. That means my discretion. And, well, not to be rude, but you don't seem like the kind of person that does well with bugs. If you know what I mean. Or ladders. Or trash. I do take my job very seriously."

Ludwig was very neat, fastidious, a perfectionist; it didn't seem so outrageous to Alfred that, ya know, maybe the guy didn't care for creepy crawlies.

Ludwig just gazed at him potently, above folded hands, and he drawled, lowly, "Is that so?"

Alfred raised his brow, and didn't budge. Sure as hell wasn't backtracking, no way! It had been said, and Ludwig could glower at him all he wanted but Alfred was too stubborn to ever take anything back.

Anyway, Ludwig was the one that had sauntered and called him 'hero', so, as far as Alfred's one-way brain was concerned, Ludwig had kind of given full consent for Alfred to do whatever the hell he wanted.

Seeing that Alfred was determined and unrepentant, Ludwig finally tilted his head, and at last murmured, "Well. It is sort of nice to have a pack mule at all times."

Bolstered and wanting to flirt, Alfred tried, "I like to think of myself as more of the 'knight in shining armor' type. So, ya know, if you could do a guy a favor and treat me that way, it would be great. You're the damsel, by the way, if you didn't catch that already."

Ludwig scoffed, lowered his hands, caught off guard, and for just a moment, Ludwig choked.

Alfred waited, eagerly, because this was really as far as he had gotten with Ludwig and he woulda liked it to keep going.

Closer and closer every time.

Finally, Ludwig found his voice again, and grumbled, "Well! I did forget about that ego, for a while." A hesitation, as Ludwig seemed to gather his nerves, and his voice was stronger and more sure when he added, "You're dashing, but forgive me if I say you're not exactly charming.

Dashing, eh?

A burst of ego, adrenaline, arrogance, and Alfred leaned across the table when he said in turn, "You'd be surprised."

When Alfred wanted to be, he was charming. Was pretty sure he could eventually sweep Ludwig off of his polished feet.

Before Ludwig could say anything else, Alfred sat up straight and smirked, offering, "Now. Just tell me which way the centipede went. I'll take care of it for you. Wait for me over there on the couch. You can lie down, if you want."

Too much? —...nah.

Ludwig narrowed his eyes, shook his head, and made a gesture with his hand as he very visually waved Alfred off.

"Very well, but be aware that I fully intend to smother you with a pillow."

Woulda gladly let that happen as long as Ludwig at least let him run his hands down those legs first.

He said as much, by uttering, deeply, "Worth it."

Ludwig blazed up red yet again, lost his nerve, and didn't play along anymore that night.

But the next morning, Ludwig invited Alfred on a walk. Not a jog, but just a walk, and Alfred very happily obliged, even with the snow pouring down.

Ludwig really just walked in circles, close to home, and Alfred should have been watching out for Ivan but instead just watched the snow collecting in Ludwig's hair, because Alfred was sometimes easily sidetracked.

By pretty things.

Ludwig chattered quite a bit during that walk, and Alfred was the quiet one, merely listening to him. Every time that Ludwig offered conversation was precious, and Alfred didn't interrupt.

Ludwig had no one else who wanted to listen to him.

For that, Ludwig valued Alfred.

They teased each other amicably as they walked back home, an hour or so later, and when they came inside, Ludwig turned to Alfred and gave him a long look-over, smiling away. Alfred just stood there compliantly, leaning back against the door, and stared right back.

Felt calm then, subdued, peaceful. Felt content under Ludwig's eyes.

That silent stare between them in that moment was as good as any verbal teasing.

Ludwig suddenly lifted his chin and inclined his head, saying, "You'll have to give me that. I'll fix it for you."

Alfred followed Ludwig's gaze and looked down to his coat, and could see that a seam was coming undone after years and years of service.

Well. If Ludwig insisted.

Alfred removed his coat without a word and held it out, because if Ludwig wanted to take care of him he certainly wasn't going to say 'no'. Ludwig patched up Gilbert's clothes, and so doing the same for Alfred was hardly much different.

Ludwig seemed pleased enough, at any rate, taking the coat in a second and wandering over to the bedroom. Alfred didn't follow him in there, couldn't, because that was the sacred line over which Alfred couldn't yet cross. The bedroom was off-limits, and so Alfred waited until Ludwig came back out with a little sewing kit.

Ludwig sat on the couch, pulled his legs up, took the coat in his hands, and began patching it up. Alfred wandered over and sat down across from him on the piano bench, hands clasped between his knees.

It was funny; Ludwig designed rockets and planes and the what-not all day, and yet somehow Alfred found Ludwig sewing up his coat far more entrancing. Couldn't look away, really, even though it was such a simple task. Alfred watched him in absolute fascination, because in some way he supposed it was quite like looking at a foreign world. Ludwig was his opposite in many ways, and every move he made was enthralling.

Endearing.

Alfred tried to make conversation then, as Ludwig sewed, because it seemed suddenly important to do so.

Felt a bit like a little piece of metal being drawn towards a magnet.

Ludwig glanced up at him from time to time as Alfred spoke, smiling softly and legs drawn up beneath him, and Alfred was quite taken with that look.

Started getting a little too imaginative, then. Started thinking of things that were never going to come to pass. Started wondering what it would have been like to be back home in the south, to build his house that he had always wanted, and to have Ludwig waiting there inside, just like this, tucked up on the couch as Alfred spoke to him. The sea just outside. Warm wind.

Yeah, right.

That was just a fantasy, and that image quickly shattered. Saw in his mind instead the reality of such a stupid notion; if Ludwig ever went home with him, what could Alfred offer him? Ludwig would be sitting on a sofa sewing clothes, alright, in a fuckin' trailer falling apart with neighbors screaming and dogs barking in the middle of BumFuck, NC, thanks a lot, goddamn Hicksville. Ludwig would take one look, start laughing, hop back in Ivan's flashy car, and drive straight in reverse to the city without glancing back.

Alfred was nothing, like Gilbert had said.

Money wasn't everything, no, he knew that, but it always held sway, even in the best people. Ludwig had grown up with a lot of it, Alfred hadn't, and there wasn't really a good in between. Alfred just couldn't give Ludwig anything at all, could offer him no certain financial stability. It may not have mattered, given how much Ludwig had, but in the end Gilbert could have ruined Ludwig at any second and for any reason, and Ludwig had no good fallback in Alfred as he had had in Ivan.

Ludwig must have known, and Alfred was too painfully aware of it.

But he wanted Ludwig anyway, and hoped that maybe Ludwig would consider Alfred worth the risk.

Even if Ivan's shoes sat there ever by the door, as Ludwig waited in vain for him to come home.

Well! A man could dream, couldn't he, and dream Alfred did in that passage of time. Could say that it was one of his happier moments, oddly enough, sitting there in that living room as Ludwig sewed up his torn coat. Couldn't describe it in words, not at all, but felt it all the same. Just that intangible sense of comfort that came from a normal home environment, something that Alfred had never had before.

Home.

It was a nice feeling, and Alfred fell into it.

Sometimes, Alfred just forgot that Ludwig was still technically married.

That night, though, it was brought to Alfred's attention quite rudely. Ludwig finished sewing his coat, put it on the rack, and when Ludwig came back over to gather his things, he bent over. Alfred was distracted from his legs by a glint of gold in the light. He glanced up, and felt a pang.

Ludwig's wedding ring had fallen out from beneath his sweater as he leaned over, the chain slipping out and coming into view.

Alfred hated the sight of it.

Sure did kill his mood, and he was a little quieter for the rest of the night.

He may have put his foot in his mouth for the hundredth time, however, when he finally did speak up, and then only to ask, stupidly, "If he signs the divorce papers, will you stop wearing that ring?"

As soon as the words came out, Alfred knew he had been very tactless, and Ludwig's eyes snapped up to pin him down. Alfred squirmed under his gaze, but only for a second, because Ludwig very quickly looked down.

Silence.

Ludwig didn't punch him, and didn't snap at him, but what happened was worse :

Ludwig's face completely and utterly collapsed, and it was the closest that Alfred had ever seen that that stoic man had come to bursting into tears. He had collapsed a few times before, but not like this. Ludwig looked in that moment as if the entire universe had just fallen down all around him, as if Alfred had stabbed him in the heart. It was either the thought of ever not wearing his ring or the thought of everything being done and over with by Ivan's pen that made him feel that way, and either way really fuckin' sucked.

Couldn't stand the sight of it, and so, for one of the very, very few times in his life, Alfred ignored his pride and said, lowly, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't've..."

Ludwig shook his head, as he tried to gather himself, and it took a long while before Ludwig lifted his head again and squinted open his eyes.

All he said was, "I don't want to think about it."

They didn't say anything else all night, and Alfred cursed himself as he lied down later on the couch for sleep.

Stupid. Why didn't he think before he spoke? Too impulsive.

The streetlamps cast a blue glow in the living room as Alfred watched the curtain fluttering with the heat. He tossed and turned for hours, beating himself up over being dumb, and maybe he was so bothered because of Ludwig's reaction. Not because he had been so distraught in and of itself, exactly, so much as the reason. Alfred was self-centered, and Ludwig not being instantly enamored with him enough to start forgetting about Ivan was agitating to him. That Ludwig didn't want to stop wearing that ring, that Ludwig dreaded those papers being signed more than seeing them as a merciful release.

Divorce wasn't freedom to Ludwig, and Alfred didn't benefit from that and so didn't care for it.

He was a jerk, but he always had been.

Sleep came and went, fitfully, as Alfred's mind was ever on Ludwig.

Couldn't say how much time had passed.

He faded in and out of a dream state, and inhaled into consciousness only when he thought he saw, behind the curtains, a shadow. Someone outside the house, their shadow dark against the streetlights streaming in.

A surge of panic, confusion, as he jolted upright and adrenaline rushed. Attempting to determine if he had been dreaming or not as awareness came back.

He bolted to his feet, but when his head cleared, there was no shadow there. He breathed through his mouth, tried to settle himself, and went to the window. He stayed out of sight, and very carefully peered out from the crack between the curtain and the window, trying not to draw attention to his presence. He looked out, but didn't see anything outside. Just mottled snow and the streetlights. From where he stood, he couldn't distinguish any sort of footprints or marks by the window.

He didn't see anything else, anything at all, sighed and settled his uneasy nerves, and determined that he was dreaming.

Still, he went to Ludwig's door, pushed it open, and looked inside, just in case. Ludwig was sleeping quite soundly, as usual, knocked out by narcotics, and everything was normal.

False alarm.

Alfred watched Ludwig sleep for a while, out of anxiety, eyes glancing frequently to the bedroom window. It suddenly became a little uncomfortable to Alfred, Ludwig sleeping alone with that window right there. As Ludwig had once said, if Ivan really wanted, he would just come in through that window, one way or another, and Alfred wouldn't know until it was too late.

That shadow, real or not, had startled him.

He was eventually distracted from distress by the sight of pale Ludwig, and once more leaned in the frame to watch him. Ludwig was ice, yeah, and Alfred suddenly realized how delicate ice actually was. Easy to shatter, easy to break, however cold it was. Easy to melt.

Ice cracked.

Ludwig was the frostiest type of flower, but still fully capable of wilting.

His thoughts then were a little muddled. Still sleep shocked. Still agitated and annoyed by Ludwig's collapse earlier in the night after getting ever closer to him. Ivan's ring. Ivan's shoes. Ivan's suits. Ivan's piano. Far too much of him remained here, and Alfred couldn't stand not having the full attention of something he wanted.

Ah hell—he was just out of sorts.

All he really knew what that Ludwig was beautiful, Alfred was lonely, Ivan was gone, and that bed looked too big for one person.

In the end, Alfred turned around and went back to the couch. Didn't crawl into Ludwig's bed that night, and that had been the correct decision, he knew. For now. Alfred was gathering his nerve, his courage, his will. May not have been right or rational, but Alfred had already been pulled out by the tide.

Ludwig was emotionally vulnerable, and Alfred might have been taking advantage of that. Ludwig was married, was painfully aware that it was broken, was distraught and lonely, and Alfred was forcibly pushing himself into a role that he had no right being in. Ludwig wasn't in the right headspace to be falling in love with someone else. Ludwig was so vulnerable in that moment that he would have attached himself to anyone that had come calling, just as he had when Ivan had first extended his hand.

Ludwig was desperate for affection, love, attention, everything Gilbert denied him, everything Ivan could no longer give him, everything Toris seemed incapable of producing. Everything that Alfred was willing to provide him. Alfred was aware of it, knew it, and didn't care.

Alfred was selfish, and always had been.

He wasn't that good a guy, either.