Chapter 51

Lives Wasted Away

Affection.

A strange, rather forgotten feeling.

Certainly wasn't love, Toris knew that, never had any question at all about that. Love in his experience had been reserved entirely for Ivan, and no matter how hard Gilbert tried, that couldn't ever be replicated. Toris couldn't ever have said that he was even sure what love felt like. He had been too young with Feliks and maybe what he felt for Ivan was closer to obsession.

But what he felt for Gilbert wasn't anything like what he felt for Ivan, so Toris knew that it wasn't love. Affection, certainly, but that was the extent of his emotional attachment to Gilbert. That was a two-way street, of course, and Toris knew that whatever Gilbert felt for him was absolutely nothing compared to what he felt for Ludwig.

They just leaned on each other for support, to not be alone in what was very likely to be their last days.

Toris wouldn't lie, though, and say that Gilbert wasn't growing on more and more every day, because he was. It hadn't been immediate and instant, hadn't been love at first sight like with Feliks, but damn if Toris wasn't getting a little invested in Gilbert.

Just a little.

Watched him so much these days, as much as Gilbert had watched him before. Liked to observe him, because Gilbert was so different now than when Toris had picked the mutt up. Gilbert was taller than he was, by a few centimeters, shorter than Ludwig yet. Gilbert was bigger in the chest and shoulders than Toris was, though, and Toris didn't know why but he liked to watch Gilbert walk. Now that he was actually walking, that was, and not just floating around like a ghost. Liked the way Gilbert swung his arms when he walked, the way he held his shoulders back and chest up, the way he almost swaggered at times.

Having someone paying him attention was what seemed to wake Gilbert up and make him confident and strong. The moment Toris had conceded to Gilbert, it seemed, he had just woken up the next morning and was suddenly strutting around as if he hadn't been accepting death not long before. Gilbert was one of those men that sucked their confidence right out from other people because they couldn't make it by themselves. Gilbert thrived off of someone thriving off of him, and maybe that was why he needed Ludwig so badly, why he was doing this to begin with.

Toris found Gilbert insufferable, and somehow loved him for it, because Toris loved men that were assholes, in the end. Always had, as much as Ivan had loved brave men.

One morning, Gilbert came out of the bathroom, and his hair was shorn. Cut like Ludwig's, short in the back and longer in the front, just a bit. Not quite long enough to slick back like Ludwig did, but enough for it to stick up at the top. The dye was all but gone, and Gilbert was silver-haired once more now that the tips were cut.

Well, well. Gilbert was so stoked, had perked up so much, that he was actually starting to take care of his appearance. That was a good sign, at least. Had to mean that Gilbert wasn't quite so ready to die after all, if only a little.

Gilbert saw him staring, lifted his chin with a snort, ran a hand over his cut hair, and said, quite coolly, "Like it?"

Like going back in time, and seeing Gilbert as Ludwig had seen him. Seeing him so stuck on himself, so proud and self-satisfied, and actually, Gilbert was more handsome in that moment than Toris had ever thought it was possible for him to be.

Liked Gilbert's undeserved ego, despite himself, and so Toris had just said, a bit condescendingly, "Sure. Looks good short. You're just a little less goddamn hideous like that."

Maybe he wanted to make Gilbert laugh, and for a moment there, he almost had, was so sure of it, but eventually Gilbert just scoffed and waved his hand dismissively in the air.

"Eh—you got no taste."

Toris couldn't help but smile.

Nope. Never had. That was why he liked Gilbert so much.

They teased other for the rest of the night, and for just a while there, Toris felt a little like he was sitting there on Feliks' floor once more, young and dumb and naïve and back in the real world. Felt a little bit of happiness, a little hope, a little alive. Pretending and lying to each other made it all so much easier.

And then, two days later, when Toris thought that he really had everything pretty well figured out, Gilbert surprised him again, shook him up again, made him doubt himself again, and without even meaning to, as always.

Just came out of the bathroom after a shower, and stood there in the door.

His look had been so strange, so odd, as he had stared at Toris as he had been combing his hair.

"Hey," Gilbert suddenly murmured, as he lingered there in the threshold, "Listen."

Toris paused, brush falling still, and looked over his shoulder. Only did so then because of the tone of Gilbert's voice. So low and rough and deep. Had never heard that tone, not really, and hadn't actually known that Gilbert's voice could get quite that low.

Gilbert stood there, shirtless and red-faced, shifting his weight back and forth as though suddenly apprehensive, and, in one of those rare moments, his dull eyes were very alert and bright. Looked perfectly lucid and conscious, well aware of where he was and with whom.

Sane.

He caught Toris' gaze, and continued, "Listen. When I get Ludwig back, will you... I mean, that is, when I go back to Berlin, do you wanna...come with us?" After a short silence, he added, voice so low that Toris could barely hear, "That is, will you stay there? With me. Will you go back with me?"

Stunned and dumbfounded, Toris just asked, "Why?"

Shocked. No one had ever wanted to take him anywhere.

Beyond it all, Toris wondered if Gilbert really believed, for one, that he would actually ever make it back to Berlin, and two, if he just didn't realize that he couldn't stay in Berlin even if by some miracle they made it across the iron curtain. Didn't Gilbert know that he couldn't just stay there? Staying in Berlin would have been as much a death-sentence as staying in Siberia. Gilbert couldn't stay in Berlin if he escaped, would always have to keep moving, for the rest of his life, and Toris wasn't sure if Gilbert understood that at all.

Maybe he was trying not to think that far ahead. For the best, actually.

Gilbert seemed to be caught a bit breathlessly under Toris' gaze, and suddenly he took a step forward, one hand flying up to the back of his neck in anxiety, and he seemed to be gathering up his courage to speak again.

Toris didn't make anything easy for Gilbert, really didn't, and he was aware of that and sometimes he regretted it but that was just his nature. Couldn't help it.

At last, Gilbert managed to say, ever lower, "It's just—! I fucked up so bad, so when I get Ludwig, I won't be allowed to keep him, you know? I've gotta let him go, I gotta give him away, anyway, so I... I want something I can keep."

Without thinking, Toris said, "Who's there to give him to? Everyone's dead."

Gilbert slumped as his face came dangerously close to crumpling.

Toris regretted that, too.

"I know," came the slow, dumb answer. "I just... He wouldn't stay with me, anyway. I make him so mad."

Another silence, and Gilbert's face had steadied again.

He asked, again, "Will you go back with me?"

And again, Toris asked, "Why?"

Wanted a straight answer for that, maybe if only to actually hear someone say it aloud. No one ever had.

Another shuffle, another hesitation, as Gilbert seemed to be struggling to put his emotions into words, and then, finally, he uttered, a bit gruffly, "Well. I've...kinda gotten attached to ya."

Perhaps the closest he would ever come to hearing it, and Toris found that it was good enough. More than sufficient.

Hell. Stupid, the stupidest notion he had ever entertained, because of course it wasn't going to happen, Gilbert was a goner and Toris probably was, too. They would never be side by side in Berlin, never, not once, and it was absolute folly to even entertain the thought.

And yet...

Even though he couldn't find his voice, couldn't think, couldn't focus, couldn't ever understand what Gilbert really wanted, Toris felt himself nod, as if through a mist. Gilbert looked almost relieved.

An awkward stillness.

A ghost of a smile across Gilbert's pale face, and then he said, softly, "I'm glad."

The brush had slipped from Toris' hand and right to the floor as the force of shock hit him like the damn cold in winter did.

By god!

That simple sentence affected him more than the question itself. Toris had never felt so utterly and completely astounded. Glad? For Christ's sake, why? Didn't Gilbert understand who he was? Didn't he understand that it wasn't safe for him to be around Toris? That if they did go off together, that it was extremely likely brash Gilbert would do something to irritate Toris so much that maybe a gun would be pulled? Didn't Gilbert understand that the Ivan-Toris was impatient and impulsive? Angry? Moody? Twitchy, with a hair-line trigger? Toris had gotten accustomed to shooting first and asking questions later, and, to be quite frank, he had killed so many people so much more innocent than Gilbert had ever been. Not safe. Toris going to Berlin with Gilbert would eventually be Gilbert's end, because sooner or later Toris would do something to hurt him.

Didn't Gilbert know how many people Toris had really killed? Didn't Gilbert understand that Toris was the very last person anyone should have ever wanted beside of them?

Just couldn't understand, and Toris eventually turned away, staring away and feeling rather blank and dumbfounded. Gilbert collapsed on the bed beside of him, twisted around, and wrapped his arms around Toris' neck, pressing his face into Toris' loose hair.

Toris didn't move. Couldn't. Stunned into immobility.

Oh...

Suddenly, Toris just wanted to turn around.

Didn't want Gilbert to die.

August.

The closer they got, the more terrifying his dreams became.

Thinking of the outcomes.

Toris could only lie there sometimes, staring at the ceiling, and he could see Ivan and Ludwig up in his head. Together, as they always were, hand in hand and staring at each other as though they were the only thing in each other's sights. Ivan pressing the gun to Ludwig's head as they played around. Ivan slipping diamonds into Ludwig's hands as the Soviet Union burned and starved. Dark closets. Ludwig twitching his hand in the air and Ivan crushing the world for him.

Horrible flashes in his mind of them, interacting with each other in ways that were perfectly normal to them, but terrifying to other people.

Toris was glad, more than anything, that Gilbert couldn't see what he saw.

Ideas came to him here and there in the dead of night. Wisps of plans and possibilities. Toris' mind was ever whirring, and finally, after a long while, he thought maybe he had come up with something. Toris finally pieced together something that might just have allowed Gilbert to see Ludwig, although it was so risky, so risky, because too much of it relied on Gilbert's own strength and endurance. Sometimes, although Gilbert looked very strong now, Toris truly doubted his abilities.

Just couldn't think of anything else, for the life of him, and so he finally sat down in front of Gilbert on the bed one day, and knew it was time to talk about it a little. Gilbert reached out instantly to grab Toris and pull him over, but Toris' hands snatching Gilbert's wrists stopped him short.

Gilbert must have seen the look on his face, because he fell still and silent, brow crinkled, and waited for Toris to speak.

Toris asked, a bit randomly perhaps, "How fast can you run? You ever sprinted?"

Gilbert sat there, wrists still held in Toris' hands, and for just a second there, Gilbert snorted. His brow raised up, his chin lifted, his eyes lidded, and for a second Toris could see there the arrogant bastard he had once been.

"Not to brag or nothin'," Gilbert began, that smug look still on his face and captivating Toris for its sheer audacity in the situation, "But I'd say I'm pretty damn fast. Have you ever ran straight across a border and through razor wire with guards chasing and shooting at you? I ran right through 'em. You ever done that?"

Toris narrowed his eyes and sent Gilbert a look of exasperation because he could hardly believe the bastard was actually trying to show him up. Him! Gilbert, of all people, trying to brag to Toris about something.

And yet, for it all, Toris really could say that Gilbert had done something he never had and never would, because Toris had certainly never ran right through a barbed-wire minefield of a border crossing. Not because he wasn't brave enough, of course, but because Toris wasn't dumb enough. Toris of course had never done that, because Toris was smart enough to walk right through the border in plain sight.

Well. Gilbert hadn't had a choice, perhaps, and Toris was actually kind of glad to hear that, and he was also glad to see that look on Gilbert's face. Any time that he could see the old Gilbert was a good day.

So Toris just replied, very dryly, "No, can't say I've done that."

Gilbert smirked then, actually smirked. Toris had never seen it, not once, and somehow found himself a little entranced by it, so much so that he almost didn't want to talk anymore at all because he didn't want to see that look go away. Didn't want to see Gilbert look lost and terrified again.

Dammit—no choice, really, because he couldn't put it off forever.

So Toris just got his fill of that self-satisfied smirk, took a deep breath, steeled his will, and then spoke on.

"Good. Well, then. I'm gonna need you to run, and really damn fast, got it? When I tell you to, you run."

As Toris had known, Gilbert's little smirk started to steadily fall. Could see him swallow, and Toris hated it.

"Ludwig will be inside the house, and he won't be alone. So. We got three people to get rid of before you can get to Ludwig, so you gotta be fast. Ivan—" Gilbert shuddered at the name "—will be impossible to get by in the house. I think— What I got in my head right now, I think we're gonna haveta leave the car outside of town and come in through the forest. He can't see us coming as well for the trees. At night. It will have to be at night. Ivan will be waiting for me, he'll be watching everywhere for me. So, I'm gonna get his attention, and get him to come after me."

Gilbert's pulse started racing, his brow came down over wide eyes, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but Toris cut him off. Didn't wanna hear it, didn't, because his courage was already far too thin.

"Ivan won't let Ludwig out of the house. He'll come after me alone. When I run, Ivan will follow. I'll lead him out, as far I can, but the second you can't see him anymore you run, alright? Run as fast as you can, down to the house, don't stop for anything, anything, and you get inside. Ludwig won't be alone, so you'll have to get through Irina and Raivis."

Toris was playing it over and over in his head, so many outcomes, so many possibilities, and so many minds he couldn't understand. Didn't think that Irina would actually try to stop Gilbert, but honest to god Toris wasn't sure because Irina was crazy, too, and maybe she was also painfully aware that Ludwig's absence would end up being her own demise.

Toris' greatest fear, for Gilbert, was Raivis.

The second Toris had cut his bond with Ivan, Raivis had no doubt taken his place. Probably had finally been given a uniform, if only to bolster his confidence, because Ivan knew he needed all possible eyes while Toris was still MIA. Raivis would protect that house and everyone inside of it, and if Ivan had given Raivis a gun then Gilbert was going to be in trouble.

Pfft—

For all it mattered. It would be Ludwig that shot Gilbert, so Raivis seemed hardly more or less of an obstacle, in the end.

Toris finally said, lowly, "Look. I don't know if they'll try to stop you or not, I don't, so if you have to shoot them, just do it, got it? Don't think too much about it."

They all deserved to be shot, anyway, but Gilbert looked so scared suddenly. That little inhale, the dilation of his pupils. Toris knew that it was because Gilbert, when it was all set down before them, wasn't a killer. He wasn't like Toris. Gilbert was a shitty man with a shitty attitude and not right up in the head, violent and angry, but he wasn't a murderer. Had killed Natalia entirely by accident, and that had really screwed him up. Gilbert wasn't a killer, and Toris wished he were because it made things so much harder. If Gilbert pulled the gun on Raivis and then choked, he was dead. Raivis wouldn't hesitate.

Neither would Ludwig.

Ludwig, always armed these days.

Gilbert was still for a moment, and then asked, in a soft whisper, "And then what? What about you? How am I gonna get him out and then find you?"

Toris held Gilbert's gaze, and when Toris didn't say a word, not a word, Gilbert lowered his eyes back down, and was quiet.

Didn't need to answer, because the answer was already obvious, even to Gilbert : 'You won't.'

Every day, they got a little bit closer, and Toris was on borrowed time so maybe it was prudent to go ahead and talk a little, try to come to an understanding with Gilbert, maybe even to a compromise.

Toris shook Gilbert's wrists to force his gaze back up, and he asked, "Are you still ready to die?"

Gilbert swallowed, and then he braced his shoulders up and nodded. Gilbert had accepted it back there on the road, Toris knew that, but wondered...

"Do you want to die?"

That time, Gilbert was still.

A crinkle of Gilbert's brow, a twitch of his eyes, a familiar old crumple of his face, and then Gilbert hissed in air sharply, gave a strangled little laugh that sounded somewhat like a sob. He tried to smile, it fell halfway, and he answered, finally, "No."

Well, then. A good answer.

"I wanted to," Gilbert added, before Toris could speak, "I did. I'm still ready, and I— I'm scared, but I won't run away. I'm ready. I wanted to die, for a while, but now I don't. If you'll really come back with me, really, then I don't wanna die. Eduard died to save me, and I don't wanna make it for nothing if I can still get something out of here. If you'll really go with me, then I don't wanna die."

Oh. That bastard. Making it so hard for him, so hard, couldn't keep it up at this rate, he couldn't, not if Gilbert kept talking like that. Didn't Gilbert know that Toris didn't wanna die, either? That Toris wasn't even half as brave as Gilbert thought he was? Had Gilbert said so, right then, Toris would gladly have turned around.

Took Toris a while to settle down and find his voice, and he said, deeply, "You said you just wanted to see him one more time before you die. Is that still going to be enough for you? If I take you there, and you get inside, and you see him, will that be enough? Will you be able to leave without him and go back, if you see him?"

Gilbert squinted his eyes, pursed his lips, clenched his jaw, and Toris could see how much that hurt him, how much Ludwig meant to him, how the thought alone of not being able to really follow through with the fantasy and take Ludwig back home was actually killing him. That look. All the same, Gilbert gathered his strength, will, resolve, started breathing through his mouth, and when he finally opened his eyes, they were full of tears and yet he was smiling a little. A deep, breaking whisper.

"Yeah. That will be enough."

Stupid, so stupid, so pointless, so useless, so ridiculous, so utterly worthless, all of that just for a look, but damn if Toris didn't smile then.

Crazy son of a bitch.

Toris loved it.

He let go of Gilbert's wrists, Gilbert's arms fell down, and Toris said, very sternly and with no room for argument, "You listen to me then. You get in, you shoot the other two if you have to, and when you find Ludwig, look at him. Look him right in the eye, and remember him. You look at him, get your fill of him, but hold your gun right there on him, too. Look at him all you want, but don't you touch him. Understand? If you really don't wanna die, if you really want us to go back, then you gotta look at Ludwig but you can't touch him."

Ludwig had spent so much time in that room, and Toris knew damn well that Gilbert haunting him was probably how the majority of those days had been spent. Ludwig seeing Gilbert suddenly before him in the house would not be instant death in the very slim chance that Ludwig was alone. If Gilbert and Ludwig somehow, someway, came face to face alone in a room, then Gilbert would be able to stand there before him and look at him all he wanted, because Ludwig would honest to god think he was just seeing things again.

Had happened to Toris all the time after that room. Took years and years for those hallucinations to fade and be forgotten, and Ludwig was far too fresh out of the dark.

If Gilbert could miraculously get Ludwig alone, then Ludwig wouldn't shoot him right off because Ludwig would just think Gilbert was all up in his head. Maybe they could even say a few words to each other, but if Gilbert reached forward and touched Ludwig and Ludwig could feel him—

Disaster.

Gilbert may not have understood Toris, not really, but he stared at him for a damn long time and then nodded his head all the same.

"Okay. Alright, and—you'll find me, after?"

Well, then, if that were really the case then maybe they could actually find some sliver of survival. Might have been able to make it out, if Gilbert could really truly be satisfied with a mere glance. Their chances of success suddenly rested entirely on impulsive Gilbert's ability to control himself, and so Toris didn't get his hopes up in the slightest.

Still, Toris said, "I'll find you. Don't worry. We'll get that all settled when we get there."

A thoughtful silence, Gilbert's eyes turned into a paler pink color as the sun faded and light lowered, and then, suddenly, out of nowhere, Gilbert lifted up his head and took a deep breath. That smirk had come back, incredibly.

His voice was deep again, too, when he said, "I knew it. You just can't stay away from me."

Astounded by Gilbert's gall, by that damn smirk, Toris just stared at him and scoffed. His face may have looked quite unimpressed then, but inside he was pretty sure he was feeling damn content. Happy, even. Had almost forgotten what that was like.

Happiness. What a strange word.

Toris held Gilbert's gaze, and his voice wasn't as sharp as he had wanted it to be when he uttered, "Careful, or you might have an accident before you get there."

Gilbert's smirk turned into a crooked smile, and before Toris could keep on thinking about himself getting shot, Gilbert had reached out and grabbed his arm and yanked him forward. Somehow, it was more comfortable in Gilbert's arms when he was confident that like, when he was feeling bold, and even though he was still rather ill with the thought of using himself as live bait for an enraged Ivan, Toris wrapped his arms around Gilbert's neck and kissed him.

Better not to think so much about it. Made him jittery.

Doing so much, traveling so far, risking anything and everything, just for one look, one glance, one glimpse. Toris didn't know why he was doing it, really. Was it all worth it in the end, their deaths, just so Gilbert could stand before Ludwig and look at him?

In Gilbert's head, it was.

So, Toris carried on, because that was the only way, and maybe, just maybe, Toris wanted to see Ivan once more as well, just once more. Wanted Ivan to know that Toris had come back to taunt him, that Toris was the one Ivan should have feared all along. That Toris was the best Ivan would have ever had.

If Gilbert wanted to see Ludwig, then tenfold Toris wanted to see Ivan.

Gilbert said a look was enough, but Toris was also bracing himself for the very real possibility that when Gilbert was actually there in front of Ludwig, he would crack, and that glimpse just wouldn't be enough after all. Seeing Ludwig at long last, Gilbert would probably crack, and instead of obeying Toris and turning tail, Gilbert would try to reach out and touch Ludwig, would try to take him, and Ludwig would come out of that trance and shoot him.

One touch was all it would take, and Ludwig would shoot Gilbert.

Toris had very little faith in Gilbert's ability to control himself.

What could he do about it? Just sit back and wait, really, like every other time, and just keep moving.

Hoping.

And then, suddenly, one chilly day, it was almost time.

The third week of September.

One more day of driving, and then Mirny was before them.

Panic crept up. Stifling. Toris found that it was hard to breathe, hard to think. Hard to focus. The world seemed grey and misty, even though the fall leaves were so colorful outside. Felt like he had fallen into the ocean.

Terror.

He didn't want to go, didn't want to go back there, didn't want to see that town. Just wanted Gilbert to turn around. Wanted to go to West, with someone. But Gilbert wouldn't budge, and Toris knew better than to even bother asking, so when they settled into their room for the night, Toris tread quietly past Gilbert, went to the sink, and began to wash his uniform, as best he could.

Didn't know why.

Even now, he still wanted Ivan to be proud of him. Wanted Ivan to hold him in high esteem. Wanted to feel as he always had, wanted to look as he had always looked. A Red soldier. Lieutenant. He may not have become a soldier through the traditional means, but he was a soldier all the same, and he would present himself to the General now in impeccable state.

Gilbert watched him the whole time he scrubbed gently at the uniform, and maybe Gilbert didn't speak then because he could see the amount of care, the amount of love, the amount of adoration that Toris was putting into the act. Loved that uniform. Always had. Had loved that uniform from the very first day Ivan had put him in it.

Ivan.

He hung the uniform up above the heater, brushing it down with a comb to keep the threads perfectly smooth, and Gilbert was still quiet. Just watched him, as if fascinated. A few hours later, when the uniform had dried, Toris took it down and knew it was time.

He stood in front of the mirror, and pulled on his uniform for the first time in months.

Gilbert looked up at him from behind, caught his gaze in the reflection, and seemed to understand.

"We're there, aren't we?"

Toris averted his gaze back down to the embroidery on his shoulder, smoothing strands here and there, and just said, "Yes. Tomorrow. We'll be there tomorrow." He looked back up, briefly, and tried to smile at Gilbert. "Are you ready?"

Honestly, Gilbert shook his head.

It was left at that, and Toris returned his attention to himself. Glossing, as he always had. Everything had to be perfect. Gilbert seemed yet fascinated, watching very curiously, but had enough sense for once not to ask Toris why he was even bothering. Toris couldn't really have explained it if Gilbert had asked.

When Gilbert did finally open his mouth again, however, Toris found his words damn near infuriating.

"How come you don't have any medals?"

A simple question.

Pissed Toris the hell off all the same.

When Toris whirled around, Gilbert was sitting there cross-legged upon the bed, watching Toris with nothing less than affection, but when he saw the way Toris was suddenly looking at him, he ducked his head a bit and seemed abashed, almost nervous, as he tried to add, clumsily, "It's just... You know. On TV, and all, you always see soldiers with a buncha medals on their uniforms. I was just wondering why... You know. ...never mind."

Damn right 'never mind'.

Feeling angry and very offended in a way, Toris stared Gilbert down into a squirming pile of nerves, and then turned back to the mirror, and was almost startled.

Didn't recognize himself right off.

He could see, then, why Gilbert had suddenly looked so scared.

In that moment, Toris had looked at Gilbert the exact way that Ivan used to look at him when he had done something stupid. That same expression. Hadn't even known he was doing it. Honestly, had never even known that he could pull it off. Had he been doing that for years? Was that how he had really looked, when he had stared down Eduard and Ludwig? Good god—he looked just like Ivan.

Sometimes, it was hard to ignore the fact that, despite everything, Toris really was Ivan. The Ivan-Toris. Always there, beneath the surface. Would never get rid of it, for the rest of his life. Would always be there, because it always had been, in some way, even before he had ever met Ivan.

...maybe it would be better to go off on his own. Might not have been quite so safe for Gilbert, to be with him.

No one was ever safe with him.

Gilbert didn't say a word or move a muscle as Toris stood there and preened. As Toris took the uniform off later, he took his hair down, raised the scissors up and began to trim the tips of his hair, because even split-ends would be imperfect. Didn't want one single little detail to be wrong. Wanted to die flawlessly.

He looked over, a while later.

An awful pang of hurt.

Gilbert was sitting there, legs folded beneath him, staring at absolutely nothing, and yet Toris could see from the smile on his face that he was pretending that Ludwig was right in front of him. His hands gestured from time to time, and his lips were moving, even though Toris couldn't really hear anything he said. Practicing what he would say when Ludwig was in front of him, now that time was up.

Oh. That hurt.

Just wished it would have turned out the way Gilbert wanted. Wished that Gilbert wasn't putting everything into this. Wished he could have stayed detached, could have been more objective. Wished that Gilbert could have gone on without Ludwig.

For Gilbert, it was all or nothing. Didn't even consider that Ludwig didn't adore him anymore. Never crossed his mind at all, and hell, why would it? Even though Gilbert knew Toris' life story now, Gilbert would never once consider that Ludwig might just be another Toris, waiting there at the end of the line. Gilbert just didn't once think of that, and Toris, as always, didn't have the heart to tell him. Without Ludwig, Gilbert just wouldn't be able to carry on anymore.

Gilbert had agreed to Toris' command to not touch Ludwig, but would never have been able to understand why, because it was beyond Gilbert's breadth of comprehension to think that Ludwig would ever try to hurt him.

Gilbert said that a look would be enough, but Toris knew then, seeing him like that, that it wouldn't be. Knew in his heart that when Gilbert was in front of Ludwig, he wouldn't leave without trying to take Ludwig with him.

Knew it, and really, he had known it all along. It was likely that Gilbert had, too.

As always, Toris wasn't enough. Never had been, for anyone.

Dawn broke, far too soon.

In the morning, Toris pulled on his uniform, tied his hair back and up, shaved more neatly than he ever had in his life, stood up straight, and perched his cap upon his head. He brushed down his sideburns, he washed his face, he shined his cufflinks. Straightened and polished every button, pressed down every strand, brushed down every bit, shined his boots into mirrors, and maybe he kept himself so busy, maybe he was picking so much, maybe he was being so thorough because every time he stopped his hands started shaking.

Perfect. Had to be perfect. Ivan had demanded nothing less than perfection all these years, and Toris was going to give it to him.

If this was his last day on earth, then by god! He was going to look the part, he was going to act the part, was going to make himself proud, was going to stand there in that town and know, for once, that he had gotten Ivan over. He'd be the only man on the planet that had ever gotten one over on that son of a bitch, now that Eduard was dead. And even Eduard couldn't claim this kind of victory, because Ivan had already forgotten Eduard—Toris would be immortal.

He'd be the one that Ivan would always remember.

Love.

Ivan would never forget him after this. It would be impossible. Until the day Ivan died, he would never forget Toris. That was enough for Toris, as much as seeing Ludwig would be for Gilbert. Being in Ivan's memories.

Honestly, the only person that Toris could say that he had ever truly loved in his entire life was Ivan.

He was going to make Ivan look at him.