Chapter 30
These Hands
Ten days dragged like ten years, when someone was very audaciously attempting to steal the person you loved right in front of you and you couldn't do a damn thing about it.
Ivan was a fuckin' show-off just like Alfred, the most obnoxious and arrogant kind of man when he was in flirting-mode, and Alfred had rolled his eyes so much by now he was surprised they hadn't gotten stuck up there.
No one would have looked at Ivan then and guessed right off that he was battling a terminal illness, that he had just had major brain surgery, because Ivan was always smirking crookedly and puffed out and confident. Ivan wasn't handsome, and so had had to develop an excellent personality to snare others because they wouldn't have come to him otherwise. And man, was that personality ever overwhelming.
It was so easy to envision a sixteen-year-old Ludwig falling head over heels for this man.
Ivan was the one who was sick, who was weak, who was dying, who must have felt like every bit of him was fading away, but all the same Ivan hauled himself out of that bed when Ludwig came in the room, so that he could embrace Ludwig. And then the bastard would hold on to his IV with one hand for balance, and use the other to lift Ludwig clean off the ground in that one-armed embrace, the goddamn son of a bitch show-off motherfucker, some nerve he had gropin' Alfred's man, what was he, six foot five, two hundred sixty pounds, Alfred could take him, asshole, was gonna knock his block off as soon as he wasn't sick anymore—
Alfred was about to blow a gasket, as much as Gilbert ever did.
Blood pressure was through the roof.
Ludwig would just gasp a little, and then chide Ivan, saying, "Stop! You're going to hurt yourself. You need to rest."
Ivan would just croon back, "Nonsense," as he neatly put Ludwig back down on the ground like a doll.
And then the day after when Ludwig came in, the blinds were down completely, and when Ivan lifted Ludwig into the air and put him back down, Ludwig asked, "Shall I raise the blinds? You need some sunlight."
But Ivan smiled, so prettily, lifted Ludwig's chin in up in an affectionate bump of camaraderie, and quickly said, "No. You're afraid of heights, aren't you?"
Mesmerized, lips parted and stunned, Ludwig just nodded.
Little things came to Ivan, but not the important stuff.
Ivan would glance over at Alfred sometimes and crinkle his brow as if in thought, and Alfred tensed up, waiting for it to click in Ivan's head. Waiting for Ivan to come barging up and punch Alfred in the face as he cried, 'How dare you lay hands on my husband!'
Never happened.
Ivan just gave Alfred a droll look over, seemed bored and annoyed by him, but Ivan never really asked too many questions from Alfred. Accepted his presence, because Ivan was just so confused that maybe someone observing him so much for 'insurance' just didn't seem the most concerning issue. Rightfully so, no doubt, but Ivan certainly was easily led astray.
Easily redirected.
It had been surprisingly simple to avoid Ivan attempting to call his mother; the bedside phone didn't allow international calling, and when Ivan asked for his cell phone, it was Kiku who said, simply, 'No one can find it. It wasn't on you when you came in.'
That was true, but Ivan looked disheartened all the same, and it was very clear, when his mouth opened, that he desperately wanted to ask if he could borrow someone's phone to call his beloved mother. He never did though, because everyone around him was still a stranger.
Kinda hated that look on his face, though. Sad.
Ludwig took Ivan's hand, and said, soothingly, 'It's only a few days. After your next operation, you might remember where your phone is, and if not, then you can probably go home and call her from there.'
Ivan had smiled, even as Ludwig's eyes had been averted and he looked so sick.
For someone Alfred had been so frightened by, Ivan was almost childishly naïve, and believed every single thing that anyone told him in that state.
Ivan knew at some level that he was slowly dying, and yet never really seemed to truly comprehend it as he needed to. As if Ivan's mind could only focus on Ludwig, and nothing else. One track.
Alfred worried sometimes that Toris would swing by in the middle of the night and convince disoriented Ivan to sign something without actually reading it. Toris was slick, smooth, composed, and it was always a concern in the back of Alfred's mind.
So Alfred let Ludwig stay in the hospital from sunrise to sunset, even though it was horrible beyond all words.
Alfred was used to standing in corners for hours on end, yeah, was used to lurking in shadows and being entirely forgotten, but never before had he been forced to lean against a wall as an invisible spectator and watch a man sweeping his boyfriend right off his feet.
Infuriating.
Ivan was absolutely taken with Ludwig, for the second time and all over again, and in some way Alfred was having difficulty with that because it almost seemed as if it had been meant to be, Ludwig and Ivan. How could two people fall in love twice, just like that? If soul mates really did exist, Alfred was kinda worried that maybe Ivan and Ludwig were meant for each other. That left no room for Alfred.
The prince had come back into the fairytale, out of those shadows, and was once more very charming. Ludwig no longer looked down at Alfred from his tower, because he was too busy fawning over Ivan serenading him.
Alfred didn't even bother trying to distract Ludwig, because it was pointless; Ludwig was ensnared, and there was no getting through to him.
All day and all night, that was all that came out of Ludwig's mouth : Ivan, Ivan, Ivan.
How was Ivan doing, how was Ivan feeling, did Ivan remember something else today, oh, Alfred, do you think Ivan is sleeping well in the hospital, he must be so uncomfortable, would Ivan be released soon, would Ivan remember this, would Ivan remember that, was Ivan eating well enough, Ivan's hair was a mess and still needed to be trimmed, Ivan must be so bored cooped up there, could Ivan play the piano again, ooh Alfred, do you think I should take Ivan his guitar and see if he can play it, was Ivan lonely there at night, should Ludwig bring him a radio or a nightlight or a fuckin' this or that, blah blah blah.
Ludwig fretted constantly, endlessly, and seemed remarkably oblivious that maybe, just maybe, always talking about his husband was upsetting his boyfriend.
Sometimes, Ludwig was clueless, but Alfred didn't really have the heart to be mad at him, because Alfred was pretty sure that Ludwig was one little step away from snapping entirely and breaking his brain. Ludwig was a wreck in every way, and so Alfred gave him far too much leeway.
And, just as likely, every single word that came out of Ivan's mouth when they weren't there was about Ludwig. What sort of things did Ivan say to Kiku, to his nurses, when they weren't there? Was Kiku, as a romantic, throwing out little things here and there? Was Ivan saying to Kiku how handsome he found Ludwig, only for Kiku to raise his brows and say something like, 'You only live once—give it a shot!'
Alfred and Ludwig both fretted over Ivan these days, but for very different reasons.
Ivan, who was previously the guilty and monstrous member, was suddenly the most innocent on some level, if only because he was even more clueless than Ludwig. Alfred couldn't be mad at Ludwig, and even less so could justifiably be mad at Ivan.
Still, though, it always stung when Ivan and Ludwig smiled at each other like that.
On day five, they went back after sunrise, and Alfred nearly bumped into the doorframe because he was so damn tired.
Ludwig looked as wan and exhausted as Ivan, but tried so hard to hide it.
As always, when Ludwig showed his face, Ivan's entire demeanor changed, his face lit up, his pain faded, and Ivan was always very quick to sit up, respectfully, and give Ludwig his full attention. Ivan always looked like hell, as one could expect, but it was so easy to see how happy Ludwig being there made him. Just that look on his face, and how his eyes never once left Ludwig.
Ivan was only truly alive when Ludwig was around, and Alfred knew that keeping Ludwig away from Ivan would be the end of him.
The days were slipping away too quickly.
As usual lately, Ivan clumsily stood up as Ludwig rushed over, and that time, instead of lifting Ludwig into the air with one arm, Ivan leaned down and hugged Ludwig with both arms. Not a hug, really, but an embrace, because it was far more intimate than a casual hug. Ivan held Ludwig there in his arms for far too long, head pressed into Ludwig's, and Alfred's heart started racing because he wondered if Ivan had remembered something.
Adrenaline rush.
And jealousy, too, but he was almost too sick to worry about that.
Ludwig's hands flew up and clung to Ivan just as fervently, and it was very unpleasant to watch, as Ivan leaned down like that to push his face into Ludwig's hair.
When Ivan pulled back, Ludwig's hands came to a rest atop Ivan's broad chest, and Alfred braced up and was ready to lunge, because that was exactly how it had happened when Alfred had kissed Ludwig the first time.
That bastard—
But Ivan didn't kiss Ludwig, and it was Ludwig who spoke first to ask, worriedly, "Are you alright?"
Ivan was silent, eyes running over Ludwig's face, and for just a second there, with that calm, thoughtful, somewhat loving look on Ivan's face, Alfred was very certain that Ivan had remembered something. The way he gazed at Ludwig then.
If something had come to Ivan, he probably thought it was just a dream, for Ivan finally reached up and lifted Ludwig's chin up, as he sometimes did. A low whisper, barely audible to Alfred.
"I am now that you're here."
Alfred rolled his eyes for the millionth time, and settled in for another miserable day.
As Ivan dutifully ate the breakfast Ludwig brought him, he kept on glancing at Ludwig, over and over and over again, and it was obvious that he was up to something.
Before long, it became apparent.
Ivan made his face very serious, very stern, and he caught Ludwig's gaze and said, "Hey."
Ludwig sat up straight, all ears, and Alfred bristled up, because Ivan looked so oddly strict.
Ivan held Ludwig's gaze, so deadly serious, and then murmured, "Say! When I get out of here, we should go somewhere private and convert our potential energy into kinetic energy."
Ivan's face was ever stern, and that one went right over Alfred's head entirely, so he was rather startled when Ludwig's hand flew up to his mouth and he burst into loud, snorting laughter.
What the hell was that, some kinda engineering joke?
That serious expression faded as Ivan lit right back up, as Ludwig snorted away helplessly.
Ivan beamed at Ludwig's laughter, that charming smile that was so beautiful even though Ivan wasn't, and Ivan laughed a little himself as he breathed, "I'm sorry—I've waited my whole life to use that on someone."
Ludwig couldn't stop laughing, and turned his head briefly. In that second, in that moment, Alfred could see that Ludwig's laughter had become more of a sob, as his face utterly collapsed and his eyes squinted. He pushed past it, though, and because crying and laughing could look so similar in the right circumstance, Ivan just didn't notice Ludwig's brief breakdown.
Gone too quickly for cheery Ivan to notice.
Alfred wondered if Ludwig had nearly cried because, maybe, Ivan had already used that line on him once long ago. Déjà vu. A different man from a different life.
Ivan was...different than Alfred had imagined, somehow. Far more charming and cheery than Alfred had ever envisioned. Funnier. Sweeter, in a way. Hated thinking about it, but it was impossible to ignore when this completely different man stared him in the face everyday, hitting on his goddamn boyfriend, who had been a few minutes away from being his fiancé.
This wasn't exactly the real Ivan, not the one that Ludwig had waited for anyway, but he was still a threat, even if he would only be here for a few more days. This was an Ivan with impulse control that was still compromised by the remaining bit of the tumor, still confused and disoriented, and Alfred understood that and was trying to be patient, but it was infuriating regardless.
He had never heard Ludwig laugh like that.
In ten days, Ivan may not have remembered any of this flirting, but Ludwig always would.
Kiku came in later, suave and composed as always, and when he removed Ivan's bandages to change them, Ludwig quickly asked, "Can I cut his hair first?"
Kiku lifted his brow, very nearly smirked, and stood up, giving Ludwig permission to do with Ivan as he would. Ivan, as usual, just stared at Ludwig breathlessly, awed and hypnotized.
A borrowed pair of scissors later, Ludwig was snipping away. Ivan's head was half shaved from the operation, and Ludwig sheared off the rest of it, in a sort of military cut. Which suited that jerk, granted, and Ivan looked far less homely after Ludwig's mothering.
Ludwig tilted his head, observing Ivan up and down, and smiled. Ivan stared at Ludwig relentlessly, never looked away from him, and Ludwig stared right back at him as Alfred was forgotten in the corner. Even then, without words, they were communicating.
They always were.
Ivan suddenly reached up and placed his hand over Ludwig's, holding it there.
An awful, burning rush of jealousy, but Ludwig was smiling and leaning farther down, and before Alfred could cause a distraction, Ivan had murmured, "I know this sounds stupid, but I... I can't explain it at all, but I feel like I've known you forever. Isn't that strange? I know we just met not too long ago, but it feels like I've been here before, with you. I want to be with you all the time. I shouldn't say that, I know, because we're coworkers, but I can't help it. I'm sorry if that bothers you."
Bothered? Hardly.
Alfred could only roll his eyes bitterly and turn aside when Ludwig took Ivan's hand within both of his own, and replied, so deeply, "Not at all. I feel the same."
That hurt.
So then...
Ludwig felt the same, he sure as hell did, and so where did that leave Alfred?
Ludwig took Ivan's huge hand within both of his own, lowered it down, and ran his eyes over it, as he turned it this way and that. Studying it very intensely, and Alfred knew why; because Ludwig missed Ivan's hands. Ludwig's brow crinkled a little, as he brushed his fingers over Ivan's in a far too intimate manner, and Ivan patiently allowed Ludwig to do as he pleased. It was a long few minutes that Ludwig ran Ivan's hand within his own, and Alfred felt somehow that Ludwig was trying to memorize every single detail of Ivan's hands.
Because, sooner or later, they would be gone.
Once again, jealousy faded and Alfred lowered his eyes to the floor.
Sleeping sounded like the best thing in the world, and the rest of that day dragged, as Ludwig looked down over and over at Ivan's hand as Kiku came back and wrapped Ivan's head back up.
That night, Ludwig sat down on the piano bench, stared away at the instrument, and he sat there so long that Alfred gave up on dinner and went to bed instead. Ludwig must have been imagining Ivan's hands running across the keys, and Alfred stared at the curtains fluttering in the heat.
Ludwig was losing about as much weight as Ivan, hardly eating as he was, work abandoned to sit there with Ivan every day.
Day six.
When they went into Ivan's room that morning, Ludwig's anxiety immediately turned into terror when he pushed the door open only to see an empty bed. A jolt of Alfred's heart at the panic on Ludwig's face, as he darted inside, and then came running back out, looking around with wide eyes of fright.
Alfred watched in confusion as Ludwig looked up and down each side of the hall and then called, loudly, "Ivan! Ivan!"
Ivan being missing, as sick as he was, was absolutely frightening. Had something gone wrong?
Ivan slipping away in the middle of the night—
Alfred reached out to grab Ludwig and try to calm him down, but wasn't quick enough because Ludwig had already darted down the hall towards a nurse, and Alfred could barely keep up with him as he flagged her down urgently.
"Please— Where is Ivan?"
A startled look, but the nurse quickly realized who Ludwig was talking about, and raised her hands gently in the air, saying, soothingly, "Hey, calm down! He's fine. Just fine. Take a breath. It's alright."
Ludwig didn't look very relieved, and pressed, "Where is he? Is he alright? Did something happen?"
The nurse smiled, very brightly, and said, "Calm down! He's fine. He's around here somewhere. He's been walking a lot through the halls. There are a few elderly ladies on this floor. Very early in the morning, he likes to take them on little walks up and down the hall. He's quite the Romeo! They love him. They don't have many visitors, so he keeps them occupied."
Alfred rolled his eyes, because Alfred was an asshole under it all, and didn't really care about Ivan being a surrogate son for lonely old ladies.
But Ludwig did.
After a second, Ludwig's shoulders dropped and he exhaled a short laugh, breaking into a smile that was absolutely breathtaking. His chest puffed out, his chin lifted, and there was that intense pride yet again, because Ivan was the perfect man in Ludwig's eyes and everything he did was worth fawning over.
Alfred was the cranky one, as Ludwig began wandering down the hall on the hunt for Ivan. Didn't take too long to find him, and Alfred hated that a little.
Fuckin' Ivan—of all people he had to compete against, it had to be Ivan, had to be that guy, had to be someone smarter than he was, someone more talented, someone more vocal, more charming. Someone that could sweep Ludwig off of his feet once more.
Sure enough, they rounded a corner, and there the big bastard was, IV held in one hand, and in his other he held the hand of a little old lady, who was so tiny and hunched over that she looked absolutely minuscule next to huge Ivan. He was walking slowly along with her, murmuring softly as they held a conversation.
Ludwig and Alfred were behind them, and Ludwig fell still for a moment, staring at Ivan from behind with nothing short of absolute exaltation. Adoration. Love. Ludwig's soft smile then was so pretty, and Alfred glared at Ivan's back like a scorned little kid.
In absence of his own mother, Ivan had apparently adopted several new ones, because, eh, once a mama's boy, always a mama's boy, Alfred supposed.
He was beyond bitter by this point.
Ivan must have sensed Ludwig somehow, because he was Romeo after all, for he glanced suddenly over his shoulder. When he saw Ludwig there, he broke into one of those smiles where his canines poked gawkily out, and he was very quick to turn into a room, probably the old woman's.
He came back out shortly after, alone.
As soon as the old woman was out of sight, Ludwig was on Ivan instantly, henpecking and fussing and fretting, as he so often did when Ivan was involved. It was still funny to Alfred, how stony and icy Ludwig commanded a boardroom full of powerful men that owned the world, but the very second scruffy Ivan came on scene, Ludwig turned into a puddle of mothering nerves.
"Why are you out of bed?" Ludwig fussed, as he grabbed Ivan's arm and began walking him along. "You need to be resting. You scared me just now, when you weren't there. Don't do that to me again! I nearly had a heart-attack."
Ivan smiled, despite Ludwig's chiding, looked content and happy, perhaps a little abashed, and Alfred could see how much Ivan genuinely needed Ludwig's presence. Only when Ludwig was around did Ivan light up like that, and without him Ivan would probably have just lied down and gave up. Alfred knew that without Ludwig Ivan would die, but he would absolutely keep Ludwig to himself all the same.
Ivan glanced over at Ludwig, sheepishly, and murmured, "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I got bored one morning and went on a walk. I found that lady out in the hall all alone. She looked sad. She's alone all the time. She forgets a lot of things, too, so... We just like to talk to each other."
Ludwig's face softened, despite his clear efforts to look stern, and Alfred could see how hard he was struggling not to smile.
Instead of berating Ivan more, Ludwig whispered, "What do you two talk about?"
Who cared?
Ivan lifted his chin, far more confident now that Ludwig had melted, and Ivan's smile then was quite pretty, because it reminded Alfred of Ludwig's soft one. As well as emotions and moods, it seemed that Ludwig and Ivan had an entire range of facial expressions that only the other could draw out.
It was so hard to remember the look on Ivan's face as he had held the knife over Ludwig, because all Alfred could see in his head now was Ivan waking up the first time and gazing upon Ludwig as a second sun.
"We talk about each other. She's asked all about my life. I told her as much as I remember, and she told me about her, as much as she remembers. We talk a lot about you."
Ludwig turned and looked up at Ivan, and damn if that look of awe didn't make Alfred's blood boil.
"Me?" Ludwig repeated, dazedly, and Ivan nodded.
Ivan had been the first person to ever see Ludwig there.
"I told her all about you. How much I look forward to seeing you." Ivan glanced down, coyly, and used what little energy he had to bump his shoulder into Ludwig's playfully. "I told her how handsome you are, that I think you're really a model, and she said I need to bring you by. She wants to see you, too. She is lonely, after all."
Ludwig barked a laugh at that, and Alfred felt himself grimacing. Ivan's lines were damn good, that was for sure. Charming indeed. Could see why Ludwig was so taken with Ivan.
Ludwig pushed his lips out pensively, and then said, "Well, then! Let's go see her, shall we?"
Ivan beamed, turned right back around, and led Ludwig to the room. Alfred lingered briefly behind, cursing under his breath and removing his glasses momentarily to run a weary palm down his face.
Just a few more days, and this man would be replaced with another.
Alfred finally trudged after them, and something alarming happened.
When Ludwig passed through the doorframe, Ivan fell to a halt abruptly, and turned his head to the side to stare Alfred down. Unlike when Ivan looked at Ludwig, his expression then was very tense, very annoyed, very stern, and quite unpleasant. Electric.
Another pang of adrenaline, this one brought on by being near a dangerous man.
Ivan's uncontrollable and impulsive flirting with Ludwig even in the face of death was one way that Alfred remembered that Ivan still had a little shadow in his brain, darkness, something other than himself holding the reigns, but another way Alfred remembered were in those rare moments like this, when Ivan's pale eyes were very deadly and very focused.
When Ivan was still dangerous, and still very capable of terrorization.
All Alfred really thought then was, 'Don't punch him'.
Don't punch him, don't punch him, couldn't punch him, Ludwig would pitch a fit and strangle Alfred with Ivan's IV cord—
Ivan leaned in, far too close to Alfred's face, and breathed, very softly and very dangerously, "It's funny that you only show up when he's here. If I didn't know any better, I'd think it was intentional. You just come by to see him?"
Alfred just lifted his chin, sneered, trying his best to stare Ivan down even as Ivan stood so tall above him.
Hm—maybe Ivan wasn't entirely oblivious, and he had noticed that Alfred only appeared with Ludwig and followed him endlessly around.
Alfred breathed right back, "What do you care? And what are you gonna do about it?"
Ivan was hardly intimidated, however sick he was, and merely lidded his eyes as so many other people did when they had looked down upon nobody Alfred, and without another word Ivan continued walking and followed Ludwig over to the bed.
Alfred watched him go, hairs sticking upright and shuddering a little. Too much adrenaline, and nowhere for it to go, because he couldn't punch a guy with cancer, goddammit. However sinister and violent Ivan may have been in the right circumstance, Alfred couldn't lay a hand on him. Impervious.
Alfred glanced down, subconsciously observing Ivan's hands.
Ludwig always had loved them, alright, even when they were hitting him.
The dark water still stirred there beneath the pretty surface.
Ludwig had no care about that, for now, coming over to the bedside of an old woman, who set her sights on him instantly.
Ivan, once more charming now he wasn't looking at Alfred, swept forward, bowed a little dramatically, and said, in his pretty voice, "May I introduce Ludwig. He's the one I told you all about."
The old woman sat up at the waist, shakily reached out to pinch Ludwig's cheek as Alfred rolled his eyes yet again, and she warbled, "I knew as soon as I saw him! He is handsome."
Alfred sighed, stayed tucked back at the door near the curtain, out of sight, and listened to two big, powerful men turn into little kids in the presence of an old lady. Alfred, who should have been as eager for affection from a motherly figure as Ludwig, just felt annoyed.
Ivan swept Ludwig off his feet even when he wasn't directing attention to Ludwig, and that was something Alfred could never do.
He felt inferior.
Ivan and Ludwig sat there and kept the old woman company in lieu of her own absent family, until her doctor came in and shooed them away.
Ludwig was smiling away as they once more trekked out, and Alfred heard Ludwig whisper to Ivan, "You're wonderful."
Ivan's chest puffed out, as usual when he showed off, and Alfred swore that Ivan had glanced back at Alfred very nearly triumphantly. Yeah, yeah, jerk, just keep on showin' off, 'cause Alfred was sleeping in that bed now, and Ivan was a dead man walking.
A twinge of unease.
Sometimes, Alfred wondered if Ludwig really would end up staying with him, even after Ivan was dead. Alfred was a shitty guy, and being near this Ivan made that so much more apparent. Ludwig had always known, in a way, but now it must have been crystal clear.
Ludwig didn't once look at Alfred when Ivan was there.
Day seven.
Ivan's second surgery was fast approaching.
With every day that passed, Alfred could see that Ludwig was growing more nervous, more anxious, at the thought of Ivan going under the knife yet again. Despite his own feelings, his own exhaustion, Alfred did his best to reassure jittery Ludwig, tried to keep his spirits up, tried to keep him going. Ludwig had gone so far, done so much, and needed someone there go give him a little boost.
Alfred really did it for himself, though, so that Ludwig wouldn't forget Alfred was there.
So that night, when Ludwig was tossing and turning in bed, Alfred rolled over, grabbed him around the waist, hauled him in, and whispered in Ludwig's hair, "Be still. It's gonna be alright. If he pulled through when everyone thought he was a goner, I'm pretty sure he can handle the safer surgery."
A stillness, and then Ludwig exhaled. Arms around his neck.
"I know. I can't help it. I just want to be done with it. I can't stand seeing him like that. I can't help but worry."
Alfred stared away at nothing in the dark above Ludwig's head.
Felt as if he were adrift in the sea.
After a moment of Ludwig burrowing in his neck, there was another whisper, deeper and softer than before.
"Alfred. Thank you for being so patient with me. I know...you hate this. Him."
He did hate it, and him, beyond all words, and stayed silent. He wasn't really being patient so much as he was desperately attempting to cling to Ludwig, trying so hard not to let Ludwig drift.
Even though sometimes it felt like Ludwig didn't belong to him, and never really had.
They were quiet for the rest of the night.
And then, suddenly, it was the day before the surgery.
Ludwig woke up, and sat up to stare at the wall. Alfred could see him blinking too quickly, swallowing, and knew that today would be rough. And it was, because Ludwig always looked a breath away from tears with every single motion he made, and Alfred drove to the hospital that day, because Ludwig just looked so devastated.
Ivan was unbothered, as bright as ever when Ludwig came in.
Ludwig sat down, and didn't make much conversation with Ivan. Just kept on staring at him, and he often took Ivan's hand and ran his eyes over it. Ivan, sensing Ludwig's melancholy, was quieter than usual.
Awkward hours passed.
Alfred glanced around, and noticed that the flowers had started wilting.
Fitting, as Ivan faded away ever so slowly.
Kiku came in and out, went over things with Ivan, tried to be encouraging, but Ludwig just kept on swallowing. Looked so sick.
Ludwig stared at Ivan, stared and stared, and Ivan was smiling away, carefree and quite brave, trying to make conversation, but it became increasingly obvious to Alfred that Ludwig was collapsing. When the sun finally set, Ludwig broke. He very suddenly started blinking away, eyes glistening, turning his head so slightly in an effort to hide it. No way to, and everyone saw.
Alfred averted his eyes, and pretended that he didn't notice.
Ludwig was struggling, going through such emotional turmoil, and pretending that he didn't see Ludwig crying seemed liked the best course of action.
But maybe Alfred was wrong; Ivan sure as hell didn't pretend that he didn't see.
As soon as Ivan glanced over and noticed, he inhaled, swung his legs over the bed, and immediately reached out and rested a big hand on Ludwig's shoulder. At the touch, Ludwig utterly collapsed, hung his head and squinted his eyes and struggled to breathe, and Alfred could only watch as Ivan pulled Ludwig forcibly against his chest and pressed his face into his hospital gown.
Ludwig clung to Ivan, desperately so, and Alfred could see in Ludwig's white knuckles how much Ludwig missed Ivan. Gripped him so tightly, so fervently, because he still loved Ivan and missed the feel of him, didn't want to ever let him go.
Ludwig could cling all he wanted to Ivan, but that wouldn't make Ivan stay.
Alfred observed, nearly apathetically, as Ivan whispered in Ludwig's ear and Ludwig cried into Ivan's chest. Had no energy at all left to be jealous or angry, because he really didn't even know what he was truly feeling at any given moment in time. Hating Ivan seemed natural and yet somehow counterproductive to what Alfred was trying to achieve, and that was on top of the fact that Alfred wasn't entirely certain what, precisely, he was trying to achieve.
He felt confused all the time. As bewildered and disoriented as Ivan.
Ludwig clung to Ivan for what felt like hours, as Ivan was the one to reassure Ludwig rather than the other way around, and the drive home was very dreary. Ludwig fell into that mechanic daze he sometimes did, made dinner on autopilot, and when it was very late, Alfred hung over a coffee as Ludwig spoke softly about this and that.
Then there was a long silence.
Ludwig had trailed off, and suddenly was very quiet. Alfred, lost up in his head, didn't really notice at first, holding his coffee mug between both hands and staring off blankly. He turned his head, eventually, and just in time to see Ludwig's face crumpling as he abruptly and randomly burst into tears.
Startled, Alfred sat up straight, and stared over.
Ludwig completely collapsed, out of nowhere, and reached up to bury his face in his hands as he sobbed.
Alfred came out of his stupor, stood up and went over, and when he leaned down and embraced Ludwig around the neck, Ludwig grabbed Alfred's sleeve and choked out, in a whine, "I don't want him to die."
Alfred stayed silent, and stared off above Ludwig's head.
In the morning, Ivan would be under the knife again, but Ludwig was breaking down because no matter what anyone did, Ivan would eventually slip through Ludwig's fingers. Dreams always faded away, and so too would those hands that Ludwig loved.
Ludwig cried all night.
Ivan would once more sleep, and Alfred waited for the real one to show his face at last.
