"Gilbert, look at you..." Ludwig's muffled, calm voice turned to his brother who, white as milk, seemed endlessly busy moving about on the couch, in search of a pleasant position to suppress his hangover headache. Ludwig's gaze was filled with disappointment, sadness. It was excruciating pain to see his brother so distraught with suffering that it made him so dull and beggarish.

The guy did not listen, for him Ludwig's voice at that moment was comparable to an annoying buzz.

He looked at him, clutching his red eyes as if he were trying to peer at his brother's soul, but then he twisted his nose and bent his head, bursting into a disgusting and disturbing laughter followed by coughing blows full of phlegm, which echoed powerfully in the red-walled room.

"Gilbert, what did you do again? How much did you drink?" They were silly questions to ask, and Ludwig knew that. But to be honest, he didn't see this as a complete waste of time. He wanted to have a conversation with his brother, who, though drunk, was sure he was going to tell him something.

Sober he wouldn't have done that, not yet. He was so angry with him, that he was sure he wouldn't talk to him for days or weeks, because of his enormous pride and habit of never being the one to apologize.

It was a downside of Gilbert, to think that he was always right and never the one at fault. Ludwig admired his great self-esteem and his innate confidence, but sometimes he understood how excessive and potentially harmful it was for him in some situations.

when they were small, Gilbert had always been quite touchy.

Even though after puberty he had begun to change radically from the point of view of touchiness, and learned how to replace it with a big laugh, it was clear that he still couldn't stand it when someone would go against him or offend him as a joke.

And it was here where he could not handle his anger and contempt, causing him to act impulsively, raising his hands or offending the person concerned; and even if he felt offended, he didn't forget to point out endlessly how awesome he was, unlike the others.

Although he was a quiet, calm man who kept his distance from any risk of quarreling, he too had the honor and misfortune to quarrel with Gilbert.

When they quarreled, he felt lost in the middle of a dark cul-de-sac; Although he was the one who lit his brother's path, he felt he could never have done it without him because they needed each other.

He thought that once he grew up, he would never feel that inner emptiness again, but instead he realized that with Gilbert there was no unpleasant situation destined to be the last one.

"I drank just a little bit, come on! Not so much, just a little bit," he accompanied the nauseating words with a wave of his hand, bringing his thumb and forefinger together without letting them join, to indicate the amount of beer he had taken.

Ludwig rolled his eyes taking his brother's hand and showing him how close he was, but from the albino's expression of contrariety, he noticed with regret that although he was drunk, he had not forgotten about the fresh September-morning quarrel.

"Gilbert..."

"Shut up and leave me alone for a second! Go to your boyfriend!" He moved his hand, chasing Ludwig away like a fly, puffing rudely.

"Gilbert, you're going to have to cut it out. You're behaving like a child."

"You always say the same thing, and fine I'm a kid then! But I don't steal almost-boyfriends from other people!"

"Enough of this! Besides, that doesn't justify harassing people who look like him!"

Ludwig had literally lost his patience, and was amazed by that. He had kept a cool head in the most stressful and worst situations, but he realized that it was impossible for him to remain calm and quiet when he was accused of crimes that were reflected in his love life, which had been non-existent for years.

He clenched his fist trying to keep his nerve, but the nervousness that held him hostage was impossible to stop.

His angelic, sculpted face was now angular, with wrinkled eyebrows and eyes that burned like fire.

He would bite his lip aggressively, trying to hold back any violent reaction.

Gilbert froze for a moment, diverting his attention from his brother's ramblings and bringing it back to what he had just said. He knew of the unfortunate incident with the florist the night before.

Oh, boy. How did he know about that? It was impossible. He wasn't there at the time. She didn't know that bar or that florist. He didn't know the area, it wasn't very popular because of the various nightclubs that bothered people even in the morning, and Gilbert had always tried to go to places his brother didn't go precisely to avoid events like these.

There was no way his brother could've found out everything. Besides, it's not like he molested that kid, right?

Oh. Francis. He probably called Ludwig to pick him up, like he always did when he got into a fight or when he'd been so drunk before that he couldn't even remember his way home.
He should have imagined it, and wondered why he never immediately remembered the enormous influence of his brother in his daily actions, as if he couldn't manage his life perfectly.

"I didn't molest him! He was just the hottest version of Feliciano and I was stunned!"

"Oh, so you decided to assault him and then sneak into his store and steal his flowers?"

"I didn't steal them! I just took a flower and put it back!" Ludwig's angry and aggressive tone made Gilbert jolt, his heart beating a thousand times and his breath short, as if he was afraid of a confrontation with his brother, who probably would not have been able to cope despite his provocative behavior and his tremendous cunning.

No one could beat Ludwig when he was bitter or disappointed. But above all, not even an awesome lie from the greatest of liars, could beat the austere truth from the mouth of the executioner.

His brother had a pulse. He wasn't used to showing this aggressive attitude of his, because it hurt him most of all. It reminded him of their alcoholic father, who used to come home late at night banging empty beer bottles on the floor and screaming like a madman.

Those memories made even a strong man like him, crawl out of his skin. The psychological and at times physical violence suffered at home by a man who should have loved them infinitely, had made him afraid.

Ludwig remembered his eyes, expressionless, foggy glasses. If he was lucky, he could see the repressed anger of a man who had sent his life into turmoil and found comfort only in killing himself with alcohol and any drink that would keep him away from reality for a while.

That's what his father wanted. He no longer wanted to live in reality, which had hurt him and made him a caricature of himself, but at the same time he did not have the courage to end it once and for all.
He was afraid that he might become like him, and when a new person came into his life, he was always afraid of hurting her. Because of this, he had been unable to maintain a lasting relationship since middle school.

That's why Gilbert should have been happy with him and unhappy with himself. His brother on the road to becoming a man, a great family man, and instead he on the road to alcoholism.

Ludwig tried to suppress the anger that was eating him like a worm from the inside out, but he clenched his face and fist, trying not to lose his temper under Gilbert's compassionate gaze.

"I'll leave you alone. Rest and try not to get drunk until tomorrow. Feliciano has invited us to have dinner with him tomorrow." He took a deep breath, and in a quiet voice took his leave.

Oh, shit. Gilbert slammed his hand on her face in a resounding facepalm making his fingers stick together like he was trying to get the shape of his hand on his face.

Damn it, always at the least opportune moments and in pitiful states, he had to find himself meeting someone he liked.

And he smelled like beer and frying.

Gilbert rolled his eyes, blinked hastily, as if he were trying to wake up from what he thought was a dream.

He quickly turned around trying to catch his brother's eye, but to his surprise he was no longer there.

"I'm such a shit," his head turned like a carousel, his hand resting on his forehead crawling over his face trying not to lose the sense of touch to wake his sleepy brain.

Ludwig didn't see it. After warning Gilbert, he left everything behind and ran into the kitchen, closing the door trying to put a significant distance between him and his brother.

He turned on the radio, playing good classical music that would relax him and clear his head of thoughts.

"I'm really exhausted! Look, my hair is full of moisture and smells like beer!" Francis rolled a lock of his hair around his tapered finger, rubbing the scalp gently with his clean, manicured hand.

A bitter look characterized his face, raising an eyebrow in a sense of disappointment to the English man in front of him.

"Just touch that hair, it will become straw! It's already yellow, so half the work is complete."

"Mon amour, don't be so mean -"

"Don't call me like that, French frog!"

He grabbed Francis by the collar and cornered him with his back to the wall, but Francis unexpectedly, instead of fighting back and foiling a kick to the English man's balls, he put a gentle and soft kiss on the tip of his nose, making the man who later trained the grip blush.

"What happened last night? You got home late." Arthur asked. He was slightly worried, since Francis didn't usually retire so late when he went out with friends.

He was afraid he'd had some unpleasant encounters or got into a drunken fight.

He totally let Francis take over, adjusting his tie, and running his hand through his hair slightly messing it up, and then sitting on the couch followed by the elegant French man.

"Yesterday, Gilbert got drunk again. I don't know what to do with that man!" He took a deep breath, then puffed and pretended to wipe a tear from his eye.

"I don't think this is the first time he's done this."

"I know mon Cher, but this time it's different. He was rejected by Feliciano, and he can't accept it. The worst thing, which I think hurt him the most, is that he was rejected for Ludwig!"

Arthur showed a surprised face. Not so much because he was rejected for Ludwig, but simply because someone had the courage to reject him.

On the other hand, Ludwig was a stable man who gave serenity and a fixed point in his life, and of course, although teenagers wanted someone like Gilbert because it was the moment in life when you do not look for stability but adventure, and he could have given very well, it was not difficult to understand that that adventure would not last long because it would get soon replaced by the desire to grow up and have a family.

He nodded as he listened to Francis tell the whole story, and was amazed at how someone like Feliciano, slightly fearful and cowardly, had the courage to reject him.

Don't misunderstand. It's not that Gilbert was capable of committing violence after rejection, but he was simply not the type that boys, but especially girls, would let slip away even for an adventure.

It was still a life experience, which many would not mind doing. He was like that, and Arthur knew that he would stay that way forever, even with his denture and his walking stick in his hand.

"Did the words of Feliciano's refusal hurt him so much?"

"Let's say Feliciano didn't had to say anything. The thing that hurt Gilbert, which he found worse than rejection, was how Feliciano ignored him when Ludwig was around."

"I see. It must have been a blow to the German rebel."

"i think that too, mon cher"

"I told you not to call me like that!"

"Oh I see you are quite nervous, aren't you? you want some, tea lovely English man?"

"Yes please. and also, fuck you."

"Hey Lovi, you there?"

Lovino heard the bell ringing in his shop when the door was rushed open. Feliciano entered with a bright smile and hid something behind his back, but Lovino didn't care too much about what it was.

He was busy changing the water to the flowers and delicately removing with a decisive cut of pliers, the extra thorns of the roses that were bothering him and the customers, or shortening some stems that if too long, made the flower not very elegant for his taste. And above all, it was also difficult to find a gallant and very careful card to cover it with.

"Did you come in the store to bust my balls here too?" He raised his eyes to the sky and gave him a brief smile that seemed almost like a bored grimace, but even though Lovino would never have admitted it, he was happy Feliciano made himself part of his daily life by giving him a bit of fun at work, thanks to his clumsiness and his being carefree, and this relaxed him enormously; he considered it a touch of color in his dull, grey German life.

"Come on Brother! I just wanted to be with you, I like your flowers so much" Lovino noticed the dexterity and nonchalance with which Feliciano hid what he was hiding behind his back, in the back pockets of his trousers, so as to try to hide the mysterious object from his brother's eyes.

Feliciano rushed on a pair of sunflowers freshly brought into the shop by a Russian man who was a friend of his, and had started playing with the flower petals, constantly pulling them up with his nose until he exploded in a sneeze that made all the petals fly around.

There was a hairy bun left, an Italian with a sulk and one with red, irritated eyes and a dripping nose.

"You're fucking nuts! Keep away from my flowers, you villain!"

"Okay okay, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry!"

But in spite of Feliciano's foxy old fox action, which was unexpectedly cunning and not by him, the older Italian once again noticed what he was hiding, and was doubly intrigued.

Not even the nerve-racking whining of the younger one had managed to make him angry in that case, because there was something much more interesting this time than his desire to use his brother as a punching bag.

If someone had seen him, would have thought he was a maniac looking at his brother's ass like that, which although cute and well-made, was not the object of his attention.

His green eyes closed more and more, becoming smaller and smaller as his eyelids fell on them like drops of dew on a leaf at Lovino's attempt to sharpen his eyesight, while his lips pouted as if he was trying to put on a nice red lipstick that would have sent even the toughest of men, to the brink.

"Feliciano, you're allergic to flowers."

"No, no! It's not true Lovi, what you say!"

"I've known you since you ate your nose boogers, and besides, you've been spraying that fucking allergy spray up your nose since you walked in here. Oh, and most importantly you destroyed my flower!"

"But I like being with you, I've never visited your shop" Feliciano blew his nose, also trying to get rid of his nasal voice.

"That's because you're allergic to my damn flowers!"

Lovino lowered the glasses he wore only when he was working, trying to catch his brother's out-of-focus look and look him in the eye.

He caught them. They were moving from one direction to the other, proving that he had Feliciano in his grip and that he had just been caught.

"Something stinks here."

"Oh, I don't know, I can't hear, my nose is clogged-"

"Idiot! I mean, that you're hiding something from me! Don't think I haven't seen that thing you've been hiding ever since you walked in here!"

Feliciano sweated cold, and trembled with anxiety under the touch of Lovino's finger, which staked on his chest with annoying and slightly aggressive for his taste.

He swallowed his saliva, trying to free himself from the knot in his throat, and adjusted his collar to give air to the face that he felt was on fire.

"Feliciano, don't waste my time! I have to work, I can't keep up with your teenage problems!"

He knew that pressing his brother would be counterproductive, but it was the only thing to do to get him to spit it out once and for all, even though he was sure he would faint from the anxiety and accumulated stress.

"Here... you remember Ludwig? I told you about him, didn't I?" Here it is, the confirmation of what Lovino had expected since Feliciano had entered the shop risking a respiratory crisis because of the pollen, but probably he would have gone into a nervous breakdown if his brother had made that name again, which led his brain always thinking about what happened early in the morning.

"Yeah, go on. What did the bastard do? I swear I-"

"No, here you go!" He said everything in one breath, promptly handing his brother a pretty little paper card decorated with rose petals.

"I thought it would be nice to introduce him to you and invite him over for lunch..."

"Hi, I invite you to eat at the Vargas' house this Sunday. But sorry, there's no need for all this formality, we don't have to go to a wedding!"

"But wait Feliciano, what did you say? Is Ludwig coming to have dinner with us?" He thought his eyeballs would roll out any minute and end up on the floor.

Seriously, that potato eater in their house? No, no! There was no way! Lovino didn't want to see him, he wanted to spare the two lovebirds at the table while he just wanted to enjoy his plate of lasagna in peace.

He wanted to spare himself the "oh, baby! You got a dirty mouth, let me clean it up!"

"Ja Ja, Liebe, danke..."

"Please Lovi! Can I trust your sense of hospitality and education?"

"But Feliciano, I mean-"

"Come on, please!"

"All right! Your German can come, but if you dare act like boyfriends, I'll throw you both out the door, and keep eating on the landing!"

"Ve! Thank you Fratello!" He reached around his brother's neck, squeezing him in a warm embrace. Well, it looked more like an octopus trying to squeeze its prey and then eat it in a bite.

"You're welcome, but hey, did you use my roses to do this?" He waved the note in the air, crumpling it with the force of his fingers with which he held the invitation firmly. Her face was slowly writhing with anger, and her teeth rubbed against each other vibrating, and her eyes were literally obscured by dark eyebrows.

"Well, that's..."

"Feliciano Vargas! These roses cost more than you!" He rolled up the newspaper he bought every day he read the daily news, and began to beat his brother on the ass with it, quite violently, pushing him out of the store and slamming the glass door he feared would break.

He watched his brother run away, but could see a sly smile on his face. In the end, he deserved to be happy, he was a good guy even if a little irresponsible and naive.

Lovino shook his head, smiling smugly and puffing cheerfully. He had to calm down and enjoy these moments of peace, where everything was as he decided and nobody was in his way. Everything was like a sweet fluty sound, of the most elegant music played on harp or violin.

He had to relax, drink a few drops of wine and think about his beautiful flowers, because very soon everything would be over, and he would find himself at the table with beer, sauerkraut and disgusting, smelly raw potatoes.