Chapter 16

Into the Cosmos

Ludwig was so quiet.

Alfred knew that it wasn't because he was traumatized, frightened—Ludwig had just seen Ivan, and it had brought back to the forefront every single one of those powerful emotions that Alfred had tried to distract Ludwig from.

Alfred was falling in love with Ludwig, slowly but surely, and was trying desperately to make Ludwig fall in love with him in turn, to turn him from Ivan. Alfred wanted to be the victor, wanted to beat Ivan, he did, and it wasn't easy because Ludwig was so focused on Ivan that sometimes it seemed like he just didn't really take Alfred so seriously.

Ludwig hadn't come back into consciousness until well into Wednesday afternoon. He had an unpleasant surprise waiting for him when he cracked open his eyes.

Gilbert.

At six in the morning, sharp, there had been loud knocking on the door. Banging, as furious as Lovino's the night prior, and Alfred had rolled out of bed so quickly that he fell on the floor and hit his head on the nightstand.

When he looked through the peephole, it wasn't Ivan.

Was almost as bad, though, and Alfred had taken a deep breath for courage before he finally yanked open the door.

The first thing Alfred saw was a flash of white, as Gilbert's very pale knuckles came flying right at his face. Then dots of light, because Gilbert was stronger than Ludwig and punched even harder. Alfred came out of his daze, but didn't punch Gilbert back, because for one thing, Gilbert was his boss, and for another, Alfred had had that coming.

He had fucked up, and earned that punch.

But it became apparent that Gilbert had more than a punch in mind, because he suddenly lunged forward, and Alfred was pretty sure he saw his life flash before his eyes when Gilbert obviously meant to either pummel him or strangle him to death.

Another blur, this one much darker, as Toris suddenly came outta nowhere and snatched Gilbert by the collar and sleeve, hauling him back to forcefully that Gilbert fell backwards onto his ass there on the threshold of Ludwig's front door.

Gilbert was too angry to speak, apparently, glaring away at Alfred as Toris leaned down and murmured in his ear. Alfred was too tired to even lift his hand, and just stared down at Gilbert as Gilbert tried and failed to assassinate him with his terrifying eyes. It was pretty clear to Alfred in that moment, however, that Toris was actually the one very much in charge, having effectively put Gilbert down yet again with merely a few murmurs.

Alfred understood, because at the snap of Ludwig's fingers he woulda done anything.

Toris grabbed Gilbert's arm, hauled him upright, and Alfred's life no longer seemed in danger.

His job, however...

It was Toris who spoke then, as Gilbert composed himself, coming forward and putting himself nearly nose to nose with Alfred.

"When we call you, you answer. Always. Understand? Don't you ever ignore us again. Now. What happened? Where is Ludwig?"

Toris' condescending face wasn't so condescending then. It was very stoic, very blank, very tense, and Alfred could see how furious Toris was in that moment just by how much effort he was giving to keep his composure. A crease in his forehead, the pursing of his lips, the flaring of his nostrils; ah, yes, Toris was livid.

Alfred merely raised his hand and jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the bedroom, and Gilbert immediately rushed towards it as Toris stared Alfred down.

Alfred meant to follow violent Gilbert to keep him from shaking the life out of Ludwig in effort to wake him, but was stopped when Toris grabbed his arm.

"Hey! What happened? Report. Now."

Exhausted and too damn sad to argue and fight, Alfred just exhaled, and dutifully reported to Toris the events of the day prior. What else could he do? Alfred did omit the overdose, to a degree, and certainly omitted Lovino and Feliciano saving everyone's ass.

But, oh, that horrible look on Toris' face. Anger and fear and sadness and everything else, given away only by the slightest of twitches.

Alfred escaped Toris to go to the bedroom, because although Toris seemed a much better moderator, it was Alfred who was supposed to keep Ludwig safe.

When Alfred pushed the door open, what he saw wasn't exactly what he had expected.

Gilbert wasn't trying to throttle the life out of Ludwig to wake him. Rather, Gilbert was sitting on the bed fully, legs underneath him, and Alfred was quite shocked to see Gilbert resting a hand on the top of Ludwig's hair and murmuring to him, leaning so far down over him that Gilbert's nose nearly bumped into Ludwig's head.

Hm.

Toris came in right behind Alfred, and oh, man, was Alfred ever glad that he wasn't Ludwig, when Toris and Gilbert hunkered down there on his bed and waited for him to wake up.

As fascinating as it was to see Gilbert being gentle, Alfred went to the kitchen and rested himself at the table, putting his head on folded arms and falling asleep.

It was around two in the afternoon when Ludwig finally regained consciousness.

Alfred only knew he was awake because he could hear Gilbert and Toris finally speaking, and he crept over to the bedroom to crack open the door and poke his head in. Ludwig was awake, alright, sitting up at the waist and head hanging utterly limp beneath him, staring down at the blanket. He couldn't see Ludwig's eyes, and didn't know how lucid he was, as Gilbert and Toris spoke sternly, endlessly, sharply. In German, naturally, but Alfred was pretty happy about that. Didn't wanna know what the hell they were saying to poor Ludwig.

All gentleness had fled Gilbert now that Ludwig was awake, and he once more looked terrifying.

Was Gilbert afraid to let Ludwig know exactly how much he loved him? Alfred doubted that Ludwig had ever seen Gilbert being gentle.

Every so often, during the endless lecture and berating, there was a low, rumbling mutter, scratchy and rough, coming from Ludwig's chest. Ludwig's voice was even deeper in German, but this wasn't really how Alfred ever wanted to hear it.

Three straight hours Toris and Gilbert berated Ludwig into the dirt, and then Gilbert stood up jerkily and stalked out of the room. Toris lingered, and stayed only long enough to tend the small gash on Ludwig's forehead, before he too vanished.

The front door slammed.

Ludwig sat there in bed, head still hanging down so far and limply that it would have been easy to believe his neck had been broken. Didn't move a muscle, even when Alfred came over and sat down beside of him. Ludwig didn't look up, and didn't speak.

All night.

Alfred brought food into the bedroom and tried to coax Ludwig to eat, but wasn't that successful.

For his part, Alfred was rather stunned he hadn't been fired, despite the earful he had received from Toris during their conversation. Toris did insinuate, however, that if Alfred 'couldn't shoot, then we'll find someone who will.'

Didn't want that, because he didn't want anyone else in charge of Ludwig.

Come Thursday morning, Alfred assumed he would be sleeping in. Thought for sure Ludwig wouldn't be working, not now, not after that. Next week, maybe, but not today. Wrong; Ludwig was awake at dawn, and Alfred was astounded to see him getting ready for work. No breakfast, no coffee. Ludwig just stumbled about in a daze, hardly functional, and Alfred hovered over him to make sure he didn't suddenly collapse.

Alfred asked, "Shouldn't you rest?"

Ludwig just shook his head.

Gilbert probably expected Ludwig to work, and so that was what Ludwig would do, even as his heart and spirit broke. Alfred stayed all day in the office that day, and Friday, too, just in case Gilbert tried to drag Ludwig over the glass.

He never did.

After work, Ludwig came home, threw himself on the couch, and there he stayed, all night. Alfred slept on the floor beneath him, because he didn't want to be far away.

Ludwig hadn't spoken one single word. He merely stared at the door, the window, lost up in his head, and Alfred didn't know what was so different this time, what had pushed Ludwig over the edge. Maybe everything had felt so hopeless, had piled up, and maybe Ludwig befriending Alfred had had something to do with it. Perhaps being more intimate with Alfred had made it clearer to Ludwig that he was never going to be able to call Ivan 'his' again, and seeing him like that had been a step too far.

The gate closing on Ivan had, perhaps, been quite metaphorical to Ludwig.

Alfred tried to keep the ship from listing, and made pitiful attempts at making dinner in Ludwig's stead. He tried his best, honest to god he did, and since he couldn't get Ludwig to come to the kitchen table, he brought the plate to Ludwig, sat him forcibly upright, and sat beside of him. He ate slowly, quietly, making sure that Ludwig followed suit.

Ludwig did, but had yet to speak.

Alfred had taken the sleeping pills and put them in his room, and became Ludwig's distributor of sorts. He took a pill, broke it in half, and that was all he would let Ludwig have. Ludwig was too lethargic and apathetic to argue, still in that daze.

On Saturday, when Ludwig had been lying on the couch for three straight days, Alfred finally cracked and came up to him, knelt down on the floor, and reached out to take Ludwig's hand within his own.

At the touch, Ludwig lifted his eyes.

Alfred stared at him for a while, and then asked, quietly, "Did you do it on purpose?"

Ludwig would understand what Alfred meant. 'Did you really just want to sleep, or did you want to kill yourself?'

Ludwig's pretty eyes ran over Alfred's face, and it was a long time before Ludwig murmured, simply, "I don't know."

Alfred believed him.

That was all they spoke that night, and Alfred once more slept on the floor beneath Ludwig.

Morning came. Sunday.

Valentine's Day.

All of Alfred's plans had been blown out of the water, and instead of the excitement he had anticipated feeling, Alfred just sat up in the pale morning sun, sore from the floor, and looked up at Ludwig sleeping away on the couch. Only his messy hair was visible, burrowed away under the blanket as he was, trying to escape reality.

As Alfred came out of the lethargy of sleep, he looked around, and felt so sad suddenly.

Defeated.

Everything seemed so hopeless sometimes, and that was one of those moments where Alfred looked at his surroundings and thought, morosely, 'What's the point?'

What was the point, of any of this? Why was he even bothering? Nothing ever worked out right for him, and the world was never fair. Bad things happened to good people, always did, and Ludwig knew it, too. That was why he had tiptoed into the dark water and took a few extra pills, perhaps hopefully.

The sun broke out suddenly from behind the winter clouds, in a rare moment.

A glint of light.

Alfred followed it with his eyes, as Ludwig's pale hair lit up in shades of white and gold in the sun.

Like a lighthouse.

Everything around was dull, dreary, dark, but Ludwig's hair caught the sun then, and Alfred refocused.

No point in anything, maybe, but there never was, and a man only ever did his best in the world. That was what Alfred had always done, and figured he may as well keep going that route until he died. Ludwig was the same; he kept on working, kept on trying, even as everything in him just wanted to stop.

Couldn't stop.

So Alfred inhaled, came to, and pulled himself up to his feet.

He had nothing. His plans had vanished. Hadn't bought any flowers, candles, anything at all, but who the hell cared?

One summer, when their birthdays had been forgotten, Alfred had scooped up a little jar of fireflies for a present, and she had been over the moon with it. Ludwig seemed just as simple, at the emotional level at least.

Making something out of nothing had long since been one of Alfred's greatest skills.

As Ludwig slept away lethargically on the couch, Alfred walked about the house, gathering his bearings. His mind was whirring, trying to come up with something worthwhile. During his walk, he found a few sheets of paper, pens in various colors, a couple of little candles, and some tape.

Well. Coulda been worse.

Alfred sat down at the kitchen table, and set to work, glancing over every so often towards the couch to see if Ludwig had woken up. Or, rather, if Ludwig was getting up. It was very likely that Ludwig was awake under that blanket, but was merely borrowing away in a comatose state.

An hour and a half or so later, when it was as good as it would get, Alfred made coffee, hoping the smell would stimulate Ludwig into pushing through another routine day.

It did, and Alfred had just filled his mug and sat down when Ludwig finally stirred.

Alfred held his breath, and watched from the corner of his eye as Ludwig sat up, the blanket falling down to his lap. A long, dazed look around, as Ludwig's dirty hair stuck up to high heaven, the circles under his eyes visible even from a distance. The glint of stubble on his cheeks in the pale sun. The utter blankness there. Ludwig was always guarded and stoic, but this was different. These past few days, Alfred had seen Ludwig being completely devoid of emotion, because he had entirely shut down. This wasn't a mask, wasn't Ludwig controlling himself.

There was just nothing there at all to express, as apathy and depression took over.

Ludwig's survival instincts kept him moving then, and Alfred watched as he rolled clumsily off of the couch and came mechanically into the kitchen. One step, and another, and then Ludwig was pouring a mug of coffee, entirely led by muscle memory.

Alfred watched him silently, waiting to see if Ludwig would even notice.

Ludwig sat down, coffee in front of him, and stared blankly at Alfred's chest. Alfred sipped away and counted the minutes, as Ludwig passed in and out of lucidity.

It took forty-seven minutes, precisely, before Ludwig lifted his tired eyes from Alfred's chest. By then, his coffee must have been ice cold, but he raised it to his lips anyway, and that was when Ludwig finally seemed to notice something amiss.

A slow, confused look around. The mug steadily lowered, as Ludwig's lips parted and he sat up a little straighter. Ludwig's eyes fell down to the table, where the little candles sat, surrounded in a mass of multicolored paper flowers formed into the shape of a heart. His eyes flitted back up, left and right, and no doubt he was noticing the little colored hearts cut out and taped to the cabinets and walls.

It was something a kid in elementary school would have done, absolutely, but Alfred was still kind of a kid at heart, and Ludwig had never been a child so maybe this would illicit some sort of forgotten emotions.

Perhaps it did; Ludwig's eyes seemed to clear up, brighten, as he came back to alertness and awareness.

And hey; those paper flowers actually turned out kinda nice, if he did say so himself. The internet had helped. A lot.

At last, Ludwig's pale eyes turned to Alfred. Alfred held his gaze, chin resting in his palm, and when he finally had Ludwig's attention, for the first time in days, Alfred smiled and said, gruffly, "Happy Valentine's Day."

Just like when Alfred had shoved the flowers in Ludwig's face for Christmas, Ludwig once more stared at Alfred as if he had materialized there before him in clear defiance of the laws of physics Ludwig held so dear.

Speechless and immobile, Ludwig just stared away at Alfred, and swallowed a few times, as he seemed to be figuring out which emotion he was feeling and if it was good or bad. Ludwig was still a little stuck in the mud, so Alfred had to take charge, as usual.

He stood up, came over, and leaned over Ludwig to whisper, "Tonight, we're going to have a house-date. Alright?"

Ludwig looked stupefied.

He took Ludwig's hand, hauled him to his feet, came far too close to his face, and murmured, "Say—clean up, won't ya? You're a mess. I don't want my date lookin' like I forced him to be there."

Ludwig gawked at him, but then suddenly snorted, and then, god, he smiled, and that was wonderful.

Had him back, at long last, and never wanted to let him go. He kept hold of Ludwig's hand, and walked him to the bathroom, shoving him gently in. The sound of the running water shortly after was great, as Ludwig woke up and came back to the world from space.

Alfred smiled away as he waited, and felt that stupid twinge of hope yet again, despite knowing that it was always eventually snuffed out.

When Ludwig came back out, cleanly shaved and hair washed, dried messily and hanging in his eyes, Alfred straightened up and stared. Couldn't put his finger on it, like so much else, but something about Ludwig then seemed quite beautiful to him. Maybe because he had been gone for a while, and therefore he seemed brighter to Alfred's eyes.

Ludwig fidgeted under his gaze, and finally asked, "What?"

Alfred shook his head, and instead teased, "Can you make breakfast please? I'm dyin' here without your cooking. We both know I can't cook for shit."

Ludwig scoffed, but obeyed, and Alfred once more thought that Ludwig sauntered a little as he made his way into the kitchen.

Alfred was very handsy with him that time, hovering over Ludwig as he cooked and very frequently resting his hand on Ludwig's back and keeping it there. Was pretty sure Ludwig didn't mind, given that he seemed to lean back into Alfred's palm with every instance.

Ludwig couldn't seem to stop glancing over at Alfred, nor could he seem to stop smiling, and they made conversation at the table quite easily, as if nothing had ever happened. But then, Alfred had seen how quickly Ludwig was able to pretend that nothing was wrong, that nothing odd had occurred.

When the sun was low, Ludwig made dinner (thank you Jesus) and Alfred was the one to pull out a bottle of wine that time. He didn't care much for it, no, but it was all they had, and it was supposed to be more romantic. Ludwig did seem surprised when Alfred poured himself a glass and started drinking before Ludwig had finished cooking. Content enough to get his own, though, and by the time dinner was finished they had polished off a bottle each.

A clumsy relocation to the living room, and that time when Alfred plopped himself down on the couch, Ludwig didn't sit on the opposite end; he sat down right beside of Alfred, and Alfred was very quick to hunch over and press their shoulders together.

Chatting with Ludwig was fun, but drunk-chatting with him was better.

Alfred was obnoxious on a good day, but when he was drunk he was a little more than unbearable. Ludwig never seemed to mind, smiling yet as he held his glass and leaned against Alfred's shoulder.

At one point, Alfred teased, "Don't ever do that to me again. D'ya know how much I hated eating eggs every day? Ya had gotten me all spoiled."

Ludwig rammed his shoulder, playfully, and offered, "Well, then! I can teach you to cook. Even a mule can learn some tricks."

Jackass!

In his intoxication, Alfred slipped up, and when he meant to say to Ludwig, 'I can't', he ended up spouting, "I cain't!"

Instant mortification, even with how tipsy he was, at letting that damn twang come back out.

But equally tipsy Ludwig just snorted, getting wine up his nose, he coughed a bit, and asked, eagerly, "What did you say? Cain't? Is that a word?"

Embarrassed and self-conscious, Alfred just tried to wave it off, and distract Ludwig. It didn't work that time, and it was somehow humiliating when Ludwig chuckled to himself, "I cain't."

Alfred decided the only way to distract Ludwig was physically, and so he finished his glass off, took Ludwig's from his hand and set it aside, and then he pounced on Ludwig, wrangling him quite aggressively and hauling him over. Drunken shifting, shuffling, awkward positioning, and when drunk Alfred and drunker Ludwig were finally settled on the couch, it was with Alfred upright, leaning on the arm, and Ludwig was splayed out across his chest, halfway atop him and held up by Alfred's arms.

Drunk, yeah. That was why Alfred had tackled Ludwig into this embrace, because he was drunk. That was all. Just being handsy because that was how drunk men were. Yup.

When they were settled well in that very intimate manner that would have sent Gilbert into a rage meltdown had he seen it, Ludwig suddenly snorted, and whispered, "When you get drunk, your accent comes out. Like mine. I like it."

...liked it? Really?

No one had ever said that before.

Alfred had worked so hard to get rid of it because people laughed at him up here. No one had ever heard him speak and said they liked his accent.

For once, Alfred didn't know how to handle a compliment, and so merely grunted, "Hm!"

Strange.

They lied there for a long time, breathing deeply, and Alfred lowered his head from time to time so that his nose buried in Ludwig's hair. Hard to breathe, and he didn't know if it was from the alcohol or Ludwig's presence or the damn noose Gilbert was going to place over his neck if he ever found out how Alfred felt.

Out of nowhere, Ludwig squirmed in his arms, rolled around until his head was on Alfred's lap and he was looking up at him, and Alfred was quick to place one hand on his chest and the other on his hair to keep him there.

A bleary meeting of eyes, and Ludwig whispered, in that thrilling rumble, "Can I tell you something?"

Dumbly, Alfred nodded.

Ludwig stared at him for a long while, before he offered, so quietly, "When I left the hospital... It felt like the end of the world, so I drank a whole bottle of wine, for the first time. I took a pill. And then I went to bed, and I realized that it was my bed, now. Just mine, you know? So I got up and took one more pill. I was hoping... But I woke up in the morning. I was kinda disappointed."

Alfred's brow crinkled as he looked down at Ludwig, who was still smiling even though he was admitting to something so terrible.

"I did it every night after that, but I just kept waking up. I always hoped one night I'd just stop breathing. It's just... Gilbert's reputation is everything. Everything. So long I've done everything I can to reflect him, so I can't just go out to the bridge and jump off. I can't take the whole bottle. I can't kill myself, because Gilbert's reputation would suffer. So I thought, you know, if I just... If it were an accident, no one would talk. Gilbert's reputation would be fine, if it were just an accident. I never took the whole bottle, for Gilbert. But one time I woke up late. Gilbert came looking for me, like always. I told him I accidentally took an extra pill. He didn't believe me. I can't ever lie to him. He can tell when I'm lying right off. So he made Feliciano and Lovino take turns staying here and watching over me. I felt so dumb. Like a child. One night, when Feliciano was here, I don't know— Everything just— I don't why I did it. I took more than a few when Feliciano wasn't looking. I thought that would be the end of it. But it wasn't. Feliciano and Lovino saved me. But they didn't tell Gilbert. After a while, Gilbert thought it was alright and let me be alone. I promised Feliciano that I would never do that again. I didn't mean to lie. I just couldn't think of a good reason not to, you know?"

Yeah.

He did know, because finding reasons not to could sometimes seem impossible.

Alfred understood at last why Feliciano and Lovino stopped Alfred every time and asked him how everything was going. Why they were so nosy. Why they had told Alfred to call them. 'Something Gilbert doesn't need to know about.' Right.

Ludwig stared up at him, and Alfred knew that Ludwig wanted to tell someone who wouldn't berate him, someone who wouldn't be disappointed in him, and so even though it hurt to hear Alfred didn't lecture Ludwig. Probably should have, but how could he ever do that with a straight face, with all of the thoughts he had had over the years? And then thinking about adding onto that the immense amount of pressure and expectations Ludwig had? Nah; Alfred woulda swan-dived off the bridge years back.

So Alfred finally spoke up, and said, "I like you. Isn't that a good reason?"

Ludwig hadn't ever really noticed him.

A crinkle of Ludwig's brow. A passing of shadow.

Ludwig suddenly squirmed out of Alfred's arms, sat up straight, and then stood. Alfred leapt up after him to balance him, hand on Ludwig's back, and Ludwig asked, "May I have my pill?"

Alfred hesitated, for just a moment, before he made up his mind.

No.

Wouldn't let him take it. That lingering fear of overdose was far too close yet, and now Ludwig had admitted to intentionally overdosing several times. Alfred wouldn't let him take those pills again, not without strict supervision and only if it became necessary.

Alfred shook his head, and Ludwig looked startled. Alarmed. Ludwig stared at him for a long time, brow crinkled and looking a bit distressed, and Alfred reached up to let his hand rest on the back of Ludwig's neck.

To ease the blow, to stave off anxiety, Alfred said, lowly, "If you have nightmares, or if you can't sleep, you can come upstairs. I don't mind."

Inviting Ludwig into his bed without actually saying it aloud.

Ludwig stared at him, piercingly, and breathed, "Don't you sleep on the couch?"

Alfred tried to smile.

"Yeah. Guess I do. We can figure something out."

Looking dazed and dumbfounded and frightened, Ludwig turned and ambled off into his bedroom without another word. Alfred supposed it was a scary concept, trying to sleep on his own without the aid of powerful drugs.

Alfred sat on the couch, turned off the lights, and looked frequently at the bedroom door as his intoxication began to take hold.

It was just a few feet away. Only needed to push open the door.

In the end, Alfred fell over on his side and waited, hoping that Ludwig would come to him. He didn't, and sleep came in and out. That night, though, there was another moment of fear. Again, another jolt of terror, caught in between dreams and reality.

Another shadow by the window.

Alfred sat upright in panic, reaching out for his gun and adrenaline burning, but once more when he settled down and looked, he didn't see anything. He checked the window again, looked for footprints and found none. Christ almighty, he was probably startin' to lose his goddamn mind, it was such a wreck.

Still, as before, Alfred checked the locks and then went straight to Ludwig's bedroom, pushing the door open and checking in.

Safe.

Alfred stood and watched Ludwig sleep, as he often did these days, but he had forgotten that Ludwig wasn't drugged tonight, and so when Alfred shifted his weight and a floorboard creaked, Ludwig woke up, because he hadn't been sleeping soundly.

A sharp inhale, as Ludwig saw a shadow in his doorframe, probably scared to death at the sight, but Alfred quickly called, "It's just me."

Ludwig settled down, and rasped, "What are you doing?"

Alfred hesitated, because he didn't want to tell Ludwig that he was just being paranoid and seeing shadows, because Ludwig would panic. Didn't need another recurrence of that, by any means.

So Alfred just said, honestly but creepily, "Watching you sleep."

Eh.

He meant to retreat in embarrassment, but Ludwig called, "Wait."

Alfred fell still, lifted his chin, and waited.

A long hesitation, and then Ludwig gathered up his courage, and whispered, "Don't you get uncomfortable on the couch? If you want—"

Ludwig cut himself off, obviously too embarrassed to continue, but Alfred was pretty sure he got the gist, and, to spare Ludwig's pride just a little, he asked, "Bad dreams?"

Ludwig nodded, whether it was true or not, and so Alfred shut the door behind him, came forward, and Ludwig wriggled over to the side to make room for him.

Crawling into Ludwig's bed was very surreal. Being under the same blanket as Ludwig. Smelling him there, knowing he was so close. The gap between them was very pronounced, very polite, very cold, but it was one of Alfred's more comfortable moments. Ludwig rolled over onto his side, staring away at Alfred, but quickly looked away when Alfred rolled onto his side to face him.

Ludwig pulled the blanket up until only his pale eyes were visible above, and he looked nervous, scared, anxious, so Alfred settled for sleep and closed his eyes, if only to settle Ludwig.

Every time he opened his eyes, though, Ludwig was staring at him.

Must have been strange to have someone new in his bed.

That was an odd night, both wonderful and terribly awkward. Morning came quickly, and Alfred was certain that neither he nor Ludwig had actually slept much, alternating between staring at each other and trying hard to fall unconscious.

At the first light of dawn, Ludwig wriggled out of bed carefully and stealthily, and Alfred sat up, and looked around. His first time being lucid in Ludwig's bedroom.

Red curtains, burgundy sheets. Cream carpet and wallpaper. A large dresser in the corner. The closet door. On the wall above the dresser, a large framed photo : some corporate meeting, and Alfred could see Gilbert there, shaking hands with Ivan as they held something there in between them, some sort of plaque or whatnot. Must have been when the companies had become partners, and no doubt that Ludwig had framed that because it was the only picture he had of Ivan and Gilbert together. Gilbert wasn't smiling, steely as ever, but Ivan was positively beaming. Ah, Gilbert had no idea that in that moment in time Ivan was courting his little brother. Life was strange.

On the dresser sat a professional picture of Ivan and Ludwig, no doubt at their wedding.

Alfred thought that the glass was cracked in the corner.

He shuddered a little, and stood up, seeking Ludwig.

Somehow...

It seemed time to put this to bed. Alfred had been climbing and climbing, and the peak seemed somehow far away and yet also behind him. Like he had crossed the finish line and hadn't realized it and so he had kept on running.

Ludwig came out of the bathroom, hair damp and skin red from the warm water, and Alfred snatched out, startling Ludwig, and grabbed him up in his arms to hug him.

Never had he embraced Ludwig, like normal people did.

Ludwig froze up, warm there against him in the cold morning. The scent of soap and shampoo. Alfred pulled back a little after a while, holding Ludwig in place by the waist, and said, dumbly, "Good morning."

Ludwig was silent, but he finally moved, to bring his hands up and place them upon Alfred's chest, in a natural reaction to the imbalance caused by Alfred's grip upon him.

Long, warm seconds of staring at each other, far too closely, and then Alfred made a motion, pressed forward, and stopped short at the last possible second. He hesitated, as Ludwig leaned in just a bit. Uncertain movements, awkward shuffling, as he felt Ludwig's breath on his cheek and tried to gather his nerve. Far too intimate a position he was in right now to really just let Ludwig go and walk away.

So Alfred finally tore his eyes from Ludwig's lips and met his gaze instead, and murmured, "Can I tell you something?"

Flipping the tables, and Ludwig instantly nodded, hands still on Alfred's chest.

Warm.

He steeled his will, readied himself for acceptance or rejection, and finally said, "I really wanna kiss you."

Ludwig's eyes shot open, he scoffed a little in disbelief, and seemed stunned. Alfred didn't see why, since he had been very vocally trying to get into Ludwig's pants for five months. Ludwig seemed to gather himself up quickly enough, for he suddenly pressed forward, a little, but then just as abruptly fell short. This time, it was Ludwig's turn to choke and pull back.

Alfred didn't plan on letting him go anywhere. Ludwig was getting kissed then, whether he liked it or not.

Another scoff, lighter than the last, and then Ludwig turned his head and cast his eyes to the shoes by the door. An awful falling of his face, and Alfred was a little surprised (but not really) when Ludwig suddenly started crying. Ludwig's head was an absolute wreck, his emotions were haywire, the poor guy had probably snapped just a little, but Alfred had always known that.

May not have been right, but Alfred placed his hands on Ludwig's shoulders to hold him in place, and even though Ludwig was crying Alfred still pushed forward and kissed him anyway.

Ludwig's wide eyes stared at him for a while, before they eventually fluttered closed and Ludwig leaned up against him. Slumped against him, actually, and Alfred's arms may have been the only things keeping Ludwig upright then.

Poor bastard.

When they broke apart, Alfred forced Ludwig's head down and pressed his face into his shoulder, as Ludwig worked his way through a sea of emotion.

When Ludwig finally spoke up, though, his voice muffled from Alfred's shirt, what he said stung.

"You don't have to do this. This shouldn't be part of your job. I won't do that again, I won't, I promise, so you don't have to do this."

A rush of anger, but not exactly at Ludwig.

Couldn't say he blamed Ludwig much for doubting, for being suspicious and mistrustful. The men around Ludwig had made him that way. Ludwig wasn't used to anyone liking him for what he saw as no good reason. Ludwig had been vulnerable to Ivan, and was vulnerable now to Alfred. Just like Ivan, Alfred took advantage of that to get something he wanted.

But all he wanted was for Ludwig to love him, for someone to see him and want him and need him, and to give that back in turn; was that such a bad thing?

Alfred pulled back, forced Ludwig's gaze, hardened his face, and said, sternly, "Hey! Knock it off. It ain't like that, and you know it. Stop. I'm not your brother. I don't want anything from you. This isn't part of my job. I just— I want to be here with you."

The awful crumple of Ludwig's face, as he struggled to comprehend why anyone would like him without wanting something in return. No expectations—that simply wasn't possible in Ludwig's cold world.

Once again, Alfred held Ludwig there and let him cry it out, but Alfred was pretty sure that Ludwig was staring at Ivan's shoes over his shoulder.

This was the first step to getting over it, and Ludwig eventually composed himself as he always did. When Alfred kissed him the second time, Ludwig was steady, strong, still, and didn't fall apart, instead lifting his hands to Alfred's neck.

That morning was the best of Alfred's life, and he would have done anything at all to make every morning after be the same.

Ludwig smiled at him from across the table, and Alfred stared over at him and fell in love.

That time, when Alfred delivered Ludwig to work, it felt different in some way. Nothing had changed, from a technical aspect. He had always opened doors, kept Ludwig from the street, shoved him into the subway corner watchfully, kept guard over him at all times. Did nothing different that day. Yet somehow, every time Alfred placed his hand on the back of Ludwig's arm, he felt a strange rush of adrenaline.

Shutting Ludwig's office door and slinking over, feeling sly and on top of the world when he leaned down and kissed Ludwig's cheek before leaving for the day. Ludwig's pretty smile.

Ludwig had long since not been a job, but now Ludwig was something else.

Ludwig was his, as far as Alfred was concerned, and Alfred would have burnt the world up to keep him safe.

Someone saw him.