Chapter 5
Tapestry
The morning was very awkward.
Alfred had slept fitfully, very little, tossing and turning on Ludwig's couch in the midst of nightmares. Was glad when the sun rose and Ludwig's bedroom door creaked open.
Ludwig slunk silently through the house as Alfred sat up and tried to get his brain working. The click of a door. Shortly after, the sound of a running shower. Would have loved one himself, but Alfred knew that if he ducked into the shower after Ludwig, the bastard was gonna run out of the house and leave him behind.
Needed to go home and get some things, change his clothes, get cleaned up. His hair was sticking up every which way, and needed a washing.
But Ludwig came first.
When he was safe in that skyscraper, Alfred could slink out and go home and get it together.
That was the plan, anyway, and so of course naturally it didn't work that way.
That morning, Ludwig didn't take the same path. Rather than going to the subway, Ludwig instead walked briskly down the street towards a parking garage. Alfred divided time between watching the street for Ivan and watching Ludwig's legs.
Alfred was a bit surprised when Ludwig offered a greeting to a man in that parking garage and moments later a very nice car was brought out. Black. Very expensive. Quite luxurious. Some kind of Audi Alfred had never seen, new and extravagant. Of course; a German car for a German man.
Ludwig made very quickly for the driver's side, and Alfred leapt to the passenger door with a jolt of adrenaline, snatching the handle and opening it, because he knew that Ludwig was absolutely going to pull out and leave Alfred behind if he wasn't fast enough.
From the roll of Ludwig's eyes when Alfred sat down and shut the door, he had been right.
So. Maybe Ludwig did have his own toys here and there, like his brother, and this remarkably expensive car was likely just one of them. Why did Ludwig ever use the subway when he had this beauty?
As Ludwig pulled out, Alfred eyeballed the interior, whistled a bit, and said, airily, "Nice! This yours or Gilbert's? How come you didn't take it yesterday?"
Ludwig was silent for a while, ignored the second question, and just whispered, "It's mine. Ivan gave it to me on our fifth anniversary."
Goddammit.
Alfred sighed and sat straight in his seat, having put his foot in his mouth yet again.
It was quiet and awkward after that, until Ludwig abruptly murmured, "Put your seatbelt on."
Alfred rolled his eyes in turn, but obeyed.
He just watched the city pass, was astounded by how safe a driver Ludwig was in this car meant for speed and aggressiveness, and after a while he realized that they weren't going to the office. They were heading east, not to the Battery, and because he didn't want to make an ass of himself Alfred just shut up and waited to see where Ludwig went.
A while later, Alfred realized they were at Sands Point.
When Ludwig pulled up to a very imposing wrought iron gate and punched in a code, Alfred watched the metal creak open and felt so out of place yet again. He didn't belong in this area, for sure. Only a bunch of millionaires here. Didn't Ludwig know that Alfred lived in the damn slum? Had come from the fuckin' trailer park back home.
Along the curved drive, a massive house came steadily into view. Not a house—a mansion. Absolutely massive. Very modern. Sleek. Glass upon metal upon glass. An architectural marvel.
Beautiful.
Alfred couldn't help but breathe, to himself, "Damn! Look at that."
Ludwig was quiet, parked the car at the end of the drive, and Alfred leapt eagerly out, taking in this dark, stunning manor. Could have been right out of a movie, and when Ludwig dug into his pocket and pulled out his keys, ambling up to the door, Alfred felt rather breathless.
Was this Ludwig's real house? Would make more sense.
Or maybe—
An awful surge of adrenaline, panic, anxiety, and Alfred bolted forward, cut Ludwig off, snatched the keys very rudely out of his hand, and barked, before Ludwig could bitch, "Whose house is this?"
It had occurred to Alfred, not so dumbly, that this could have very well been where Ivan lived.
And Ludwig must have known that, because his aggressive stance slouched, his brow came up a little, and Ludwig finally just said, "Gilbert's."
Oh.
A look around, a scan of the scenery, and then Alfred stared at Ludwig and judged him. When Ludwig's sincerity was good enough for Alfred, he tossed Ludwig the keys and stepped back.
Ludwig just looked damn tired as he twisted the lock, punched in another code, and then pushed open the door. Alfred darted in right behind him, not looking to be locked out, and was immediately awed into silence by the house.
Damn, Gilbert was a bastard, but he had remarkable taste.
The most stunning house he had ever seen.
Ludwig didn't seem awed or impressed, entirely uninterested in how remarkable his brother's mansion was, and Alfred just trotted behind him and gawked around like a kid.
Money was great. Sure wished he had some.
...well. Great may have been a strong word, because damn if everyone in those sparse photographs Alfred saw didn't look miserable. They passed through what must have been a massive sort of living room, there was probably some fancier name for it, and above a leather sofa there was a huge portrait. A photograph, printed out on an actual canvas the size of a painting in a museum. Gilbert and that brunet, and a much younger Ludwig in front of them, perhaps thirteen. All together, and not a one of them was smiling. Everyone looked so serious. So dismal. This family of ice. Just cold statues, all of them, and no one smiled.
Ludwig didn't look happy in any of the pictures Alfred saw.
Come to think, the only time that Alfred had seen Ludwig smiling was in that picture with Ivan.
Pathetic.
Glass windows all around, huge panels that took up entire walls, and Alfred could see, through that kaleidoscope, the sea out back. A private beach, quiet and calm in the gentle morning tide. While easily keeping Ludwig in sight within this mostly glass house, Alfred made his way to the back doors, as huge and imposing as the front, and slid one end open.
The smell of the sea. Sand and salt. Familiar. The wind back home was just a little warmer, more humid.
Close enough.
But not the same, and so Alfred shut the door and trotted back in, hunting Ludwig down into an ornate dining room. A huge grandfather clock, ticking away in the corner.
Time always moved for Alfred, but nothing ever seemed accomplished.
For Ludwig's part, he seemed to be accomplishing much in that instant, and Alfred was startled and taken aback to see Ludwig...cleaning.
Cleaning?
Why the hell was Ludwig cleaning? Had a cloth in hand and was shining and waxing the wooden table, the antique-looking chairs. Alfred hung back and watched with utter bewilderment as Ludwig moved steadily throughout the house, in what was clearly a well-oiled routine, and cleaned Gilbert's already immaculate house.
What the hell...?
Ludwig was quiet, very focused on his work, ignoring Alfred as expertly as ever as Alfred just followed behind.
A long hour, two, and Alfred glanced frequently to the glass and out to the sea.
Wasn't sure what was worse; the homesickness, or the undeniable sense of unease that came from being around all of these bizarre men.
Ludwig moved into the huge kitchen, cleaned the counters and mopped the floor, and Alfred was ready to jump out of his skin.
Couldn't stand it.
"So!" Alfred finally gathered the nerve to ask, to break this awful air of suffocation, "How come you don't live here? A place like this. There's plenty of room."
Ludwig grimaced, washed his hands and then wringing them in a cloth, and said, with a great amount of venom, "I hate it here. I grew up here, and couldn't get out quickly enough. I hate this house. It feels like a prison. In here, I could just open my eyes and see how much Gilbert expects of me."
A twinge of embarrassment, but it was kinda nice to have Ludwig actually speak instead of just grunting, 'None of your business.'
This family seemed otherworldly in a sense, so different than anything Alfred had ever seen. Couldn't connect at all.
This strange line.
Alfred shut his mouth, and watched as Ludwig changed course and suddenly went up the stairs. As usual, Alfred followed dutifully behind, and Ludwig pushed through yet another door. This time, though, the air was instantly different, and Alfred knew at once that this must have been Gilbert's bedroom. Huge, dark colors, and that faint scent of cologne. The smell of Gilbert's bedroom didn't evoke that same sense of comfort and entrancement that Ludwig's did; actually, it seemed off-putting somehow to Alfred. As cold and uninviting as everything else.
Ludwig, surely, must have felt different, because he was used to it. Something in his posture changed when he entered that room, hardly perceivable but there all the same. Just a slight lowering of his chin and shoulders. Relaxing and off guard, if only a fraction.
Ludwig's big brother.
Ludwig began rummaging through Gilbert's closet and dresser, and it took a very long time for Alfred to realize what Ludwig was even doing. Didn't understand at all until Ludwig took one dress shirt out, inspected it, and then placed it upon the bed, and then another, and then gathered them up and walked out.
Alfred supposed Ludwig was meaning to do laundry, but instead Ludwig went back downstairs, entered yet another room (this place felt like a damn maze!) and sat down at a small table. For whatever reason, Alfred felt extremely uncomfortable when Ludwig pulled out a little box, opened it up, and without a word began sewing up a loose hem on one of those shirts.
This was just...
Strange. All of this was so strange, everything, and Alfred was befuddled.
Shifting his weight from side to side in unease, Alfred finally piped up again, and asked, "Place this big—don't ya have maids?"
"Of course," Ludwig murmured, without batting an eye or glancing up. "Today is their day off. I fill in."
Alfred hesitated, and then asked the obvious question.
"Why?"
Made no sense. Gilbert was literally made of money, and there was no reason for Ludwig to do this.
Ludwig's face and eyes and voice were as frosty as ever, distant and aloof behind that veil, when he offered, "I've been doing this one day a week since I was six years old. Gilbert's way of teaching me discipline. To know how to do things for myself."
Discipline or control?
Gilbert ran Ludwig through a mental maze, a maze as imposing as this house, and Ludwig didn't seem to realize or care. Ludwig didn't seem to understand that none of this was exactly normal behavior. There was nothing wrong, of course, with teaching someone how to fend for themselves, teaching them domestic skills, but something about this all just seemed so underhanded. Couldn't put his finger on it.
But knew one thing—Gilbert had set Ludwig up for failure. Ludwig had fallen into abusive hands because they had seemed familiar. Close to home.
To that accusation, Alfred would hold, until he was proven wrong.
So Alfred just sat there and watched Ludwig patch up Gilbert's expensive clothing, and from there he went out to the back porch and swept the sand off of the wood. Alfred didn't miss when Ludwig fell still and stared out quietly over the sea.
Alfred did the same, and felt homesick more powerfully than ever.
Hours later, when the house was cleaned and Gilbert's clothes were mended and the invisible maze-running was complete, Ludwig locked the house up and went back to the car. This time, when Alfred got in, neither the car nor the house seemed quite as spectacular as they had in the morning.
Seemed sinister in a way.
Gilbert's opulent house. Ivan's opulent car.
Just fancy ways to keep Ludwig quiet and compliant.
When Alfred was offered no information, no explanations, no opinions, all he could do was let his mind wander and form his own conclusions based on his own biases, and right now his opinion was that Ludwig was a silent victim to two absurdly powerful men.
Whether it was true or not didn't matter to Alfred, because Alfred, like everyone else on the planet, only saw what he wanted to see.
Alfred put his seatbelt on that time without being asked, and the city flew by yet again. This time, they did go to the Battery, and back to that building. It was two in the afternoon. Far too late for Ludwig to go to work, surely, and so Alfred could only wait and see, as usual.
Another ride in the glass elevator, another instance of Ludwig closing his eyes and breathing deeply, another moment of dizziness when Ludwig took the first step out, and through it all Alfred just followed behind and kept watch.
They went to Gilbert's office, not Ludwig's.
Those two guards straightened up when they saw Ludwig coming, and came forward. The friendlier one gripped Ludwig's arm in one hand and shook his hand with the other, eagerly, asking, "How have you been, Ludovico? Come ti piace il nuovo tipo?"
Ludwig hesitated, clearly trying to gather words, and then clumsily uttered, "Um— Va...bene."
The shorter, darker guard snorted, and muttered, "Non amore a prima vista?"
Alfred, oblivious to the words, thought that Ludwig's pale face tinted a little pink.
The friendly guard shoved Ludwig's chest, 'ooh'ing and clearly teasing him about something or another, and it was nice to see someone being nice to Ludwig. Ludwig waved them off finally, grunting, "Alright! You got your hits in."
The taller guard, with his lighter and friendlier eyes, glanced back and forth between Ludwig and Alfred, curiously, and then he lowered his voice and whispered something to Ludwig that Alfred couldn't hear. Ludwig scoffed, sputtered, and shoved him away, before straightening his collar back into perfection, taking a deep breath, and preparing himself to enter Gilbert's office.
The darker-eyed guard muttered, gruffly but helpfully, "Breathe. It's always alright, every time."
Another scoff, this one more jittery, and Ludwig tried to distract himself, perhaps, by whispering, "How do you say 'I don't want to be here' in Italian?"
A taut smile, and the less friendly guard just replied, "I'll tell you later."
Ludwig nodded, and seemed to steel himself and at last gather the courage to push through the door to Gilbert's office.
As Alfred passed the guards, they seemed to study him quite intensely.
He ignored them.
'I don't want to be here.' Alfred felt the same, absolutely, and so in that he and Ludwig could actually understand each other.
Once more, Alfred found himself in Gilbert's huge, overwhelming office, but Ludwig didn't walk straight in like Alfred had, and rather turned to the left and went up to another door. Another room of the office, no doubt, behind which Gilbert lied in wait.
Like a villain, alright.
Ludwig hesitated there in front of that door for what felt like eternity, pale and pulse hammering, and Alfred came up beside of him, trying silently to remind Ludwig that Alfred was there to protect him. Just didn't know exactly from who or what this time, and Ludwig glanced over at Alfred very briefly.
A purse of Ludwig's lips as he gathered his nerves.
Alfred gave Ludwig the courage to push through the door, but not because Ludwig relied on Alfred for strength. Nah—Ludwig just didn't want Alfred there, at all, and so pushed the door open and plunged inside to get the hell away from him.
A sting, pushed quickly away.
His ego was all he had, really, and Ludwig didn't bend to it very easily.
It quickly became apparent why Ludwig had not wanted to open this door, why he had paused, hesitated, had looked pale and anxious.
This other half of the office was as huge as the rest, but pure damn glass, just like Gilbert's house. Could see everything, the city entire, everything, and Ludwig immediately lost balance for a second and was breathing through his mouth as he walked up to Gilbert, sitting there at another desk before those huge panels. At his sides, Ludwig's hands were shaking.
Gilbert didn't seem too concerned about his little brother's vertigo, and merely said, with a glance at his expensive watch, "You are three minutes late."
Alfred bristled.
Late for what, the prick? Ludwig had just gone to clean Gilbert's damn mansion and the guy had the gall to bitch about a three minute differential?
Ludwig murmured, blankly, "Feliciano and Lovino held me up."
The guards, no doubt.
Gilbert's drawled reply :
"I didn't ask for an excuse."
Alfred hated Gilbert, really did.
Ludwig came to a halt, brow already glinting with cold sweat and pale as a sheet, and he focused on Gilbert so that he wouldn't have to glance over and see the city through the windows.
Alfred, without being entirely in control of it, had walked up very closely to Ludwig just in case he lost his balance and stumbled.
Looked pitiful, really did.
Ludwig began speaking softly to Gilbert, posture perfect and eyes straight ahead. Looked more like he was talking to the damn President, Ludwig, rather than his own brother. Ludwig was speaking in German, though, so once more Alfred could only use his imagination, and since there didn't seem to be any other pressing reason for them to be there, Alfred could only assume that Ludwig was reporting to Gilbert on his housekeeping.
These people...
As Ludwig murmured away to Gilbert in German, Alfred glanced around, jittery as he was, and noticed that on the floor, a distance away, there was a large black blanket or cloth of some kind. Just lying there randomly on the floor. Entirely out of place.
Gilbert stood up suddenly as Ludwig yet spoke, and Ludwig followed Gilbert with his eyes as Gilbert ambled slowly away from his desk and towards that cloth.
Ludwig seemed ever paler somehow, and even though Alfred didn't speak a word of German he had enough sense to realize that Ludwig was suddenly stammering a bit.
What was that black cloth covering? Ludwig wouldn't look at it, and was squirming terribly as Gilbert drew ever close to it, shifting side to side as his vertigo roared up under Gilbert's windows. Couldn't the asshole at least lower the blinds for Ludwig? Would that one second of effort have been too much?
Probably just another terrible power play of Gilbert's, who seemed like a fanatical control freak to Alfred.
Gilbert fell still right at the edge there of that cloth, but made no motion, and Ludwig finally stopped speaking.
Alfred took a small step, in that heavy silence, and with that one step he had put himself in between Ludwig and Gilbert, because Gilbert had paid Alfred to protect Ludwig from everyone, and if that meant Gilbert, too, then so be it.
But Gilbert just turned back around, and made no aggressive motions.
Gilbert stared Alfred down, those eerie eyes cold and stern, and after a moment he asked, just as coldly, "Anything to report?"
About Ivan, no doubt, and Gilbert was the boss, so Alfred opened his mouth, ready to relay the encounter with Ivan, but Ludwig beat Alfred to the punch, interjecting, "Nothing at all."
Gilbert didn't once take his eyes from Alfred, dismissing his little brother as if he were little more than smoke, and said, "I wasn't asking you. Anything to report?"
Alfred was caught under Gilbert's frightening eyes, but managed a quick glance at Ludwig, whose blank face belied how nervous he must have been. His fists were clenched, a slight crease in his brow, and Alfred took pity on Ludwig then, and risked Gilbert's wrath to say, dutifully, "Nothing at all."
Gilbert's expression didn't shift, didn't move, he didn't even blink, and if Alfred had ever thought that Ludwig was frost then there were no words for whatever the hell Gilbert was.
Way farther down on the Kelvin scale.
Gilbert's voice was soft and yet very dangerous when he stared right through Alfred and said, simply, "I pay you. You answer to me. I'll ask again soon."
Yikes.
Gilbert was utterly terrifying, no doubt about it, as much as Ivan, and Alfred felt awful for Ludwig, really did, caught in between these two men.
Gilbert said that Ludwig meant everything to him, but sure as hell didn't seem to show it, at least not affectionately. Seemed more like some kind of chess move, a notion of control, some need that Gilbert had to dominate everyone and everything in his life, and his little brother was just another one.
A cloud went across the sun then, a shadow fell, and Gilbert's crimson eyes faded down into a pale blue, pink tints hanging in there from the office lights. Gilbert being an albino didn't make him terrifying, no, but it sure as hell helped to solidify it when Gilbert was just such a scary man. No doubt Gilbert loved his lack of pigment, loved how unique it made him, and used that somehow scary appearance to his advantage.
Gilbert turned his eyes then to Ludwig, at long last, and the stare that passed between Gilbert and Ludwig was one of the more electric ones Alfred had ever seen. Gilbert was clearly saying a million things without a single word, was obviously asserting his dominance, and Ludwig gave a valiant effort to hold it.
No movement from Gilbert, not a blink, not a twitch, just stone and ice, and eventually Ludwig swallowed, a shift of his jaw, and soon Ludwig averted his eyes to the floor and submitted.
Alfred hated the sight of it, because he thought less of Ludwig now than he had before.
Didn't mean to.
What would have been a normal battle of wills between two powerful men the day before was now something incredibly unnerving to Alfred, because he couldn't help but see Ludwig as weak and it felt as if Gilbert was just another man taking advantage of that.
Ludwig sure could talk back to Gilbert on the phone, could scream at him for hours, but it seemed that when they were face to face Ludwig entirely lost his will and nerve.
A flame that went out when the temperature hit absolute zero.
When Ludwig cracked and looked down, Gilbert turned his gaze back to Alfred and said, simply, "Dismissed."
Ludwig was the one to turn on his heel and stalk unsteadily out, his vertigo throwing his balance off as usual for a second. That time, though, Alfred inhaled and leapt over, reaching out to place a palm on Ludwig's arm to steady him.
He hadn't done that before; rather, he had laughed at Ludwig, like normal men.
They weren't normal now.
Ludwig wrenched back from the touch, and sped up to leave Alfred behind.
They brushed past the guards, who called to Ludwig, but Ludwig just stalked away from Alfred and ignored everyone.
The elevator ride was silent. Awkward.
Alfred could only watch protectively as Ludwig buried his face in the elevator corner to avoid seeing the city, and wished that he could just turn off that switch that had been flipped. Wished that he could just look at Ludwig and see him the way he had before, but he couldn't, just couldn't, however hard he tried.
Ludwig hadn't wanted anyone to know.
Again, the ride back to Ludwig's extremely modest house was quiet.
Alfred broke that awful silence only to say, riskily, "Tomorrow, when you're at work, I need to go home and get some things. I'm going to be here with you for a while, so... I know you don't like it, but—"
Ludwig interrupted, to mutter, far less maliciously than Alfred had expected, "Do what you want. I don't care anymore. Bring whatever you want. You can take the upstairs guest room."
Ludwig looked so rundown.
Just gave up, then, after having been put in place by Gilbert, and stopped fighting against the tide. Let Gilbert's waters carry him away, and Alfred hated being a part of that current, but there wasn't anything for it.
Dinner that night passed without one single word being spoken between them, and Ludwig took his sleeping pill and vanished as Alfred watched him.
Wondered if Ludwig couldn't sleep, or if the pills just let him pass the night without dreaming.
More and more, Alfred was content to let Ludwig drug himself at night, if that was what he needed, because it was clear now that those precious few hours were the only time that Ludwig wasn't under such extreme stress.
The dynamic between Ludwig and Gilbert...
It alarmed Alfred almost as much as the one between Ludwig and Ivan. Did anyone in this circle of terrible people make any sense? Alfred dreaded when Gilbert would come calling just about as equally as he dreaded Ivan creeping up.
The family tree from hell.
He should have felt right at home.