Old Polaroid pictures often give unvarnished views of recent history.

0o0o0o

Feliciano took a deep breath-he was really going to answer all his questions!-and reached out to tug Gilbert's sleeve.

'Gilbert, can we-'

'Vati is waiting,' he said. He glanced down, and Feliciano saw a flicker of apology in his eyes. 'Come on.'

Ludwig silently fell in beside him as they left the art shop. In the noisy, smoky bustle, Feliciano already missed the energy of the art store.

'Sorry,' Gilbert said quietly, leading them along. 'Listen-I promise you'll get to talk to him. Just...maybe another day, you really might not want-'

'What's his address, at least?' Ludwig interrupted.

'He lives downtown. A few blocks that way. We'll come back another day to see him.' Gilbert stopped on a corner and adjusted his jacket, patting his pockets, and wiped a smudge of paint off Feliciano's face. 'Remember, we never went to the magazine place.'

'Right,' Feliciano agreed. He still didn't understand why Gilbert didn't want to tell about beautiful things, or why it was so important his grandfather didn't know, but he had a feeling it had something to do with the identity of whoever Gilbert loved being someone his grandfather didn't like.

'We're here!' Gilbert called, rounding the corner, and his grandfather nodded up from a book and picked up a bag of clothes. Feliciano caught a look at the cover. Der Große Krieg.

'Ready to go?'

'Yes!' Feliciano exclaimed. He could think about Gilbert later, because the city was huge, and a bit scary, but in a good way. 'Houston is amazing! Kind of loud, but everything in America seems loud. Well, none of you are really loud, but Ludwig said you're from Germany. I wonder what Germany's like.'

'It's nice,' Ludwig said, giving him the secret smile Feliciano was starting to realize he loved. His grandfather was frowning slightly, but it was more a bewildered look than an reprimanding one, like Feliciano's grandfather did when Feliciano talked too much about things. That was good because Ludwig's grandfather was a little scary, and strange because Ludwig had the same piercingly blue eyes and hair and he was never scary.

The car ride home, Feliciano talked about Houston, and Ludwig told him about places like museums and art galleries he'd visited, and places in Germany he'd been.

'There's a lot of art in some cities,' he said, talking about Germany. 'Berlin, for example.'

'I heard the Wall there is completely covered with graffiti on the west side by now,' Gilbert said, turning around from the front seat.

'What wall?' Feliciano asked.

'The Berlin Wall is a blockade surrounding the west half of Berlin, put into place to prevent people in the east from entering,' Ludwig's grandfather said. Feliciano was startled by his voice for a moment before it sunk in.

'Why would someone do that? Can they do that?' Feliciano frowned. 'Why is Berlin divided? Ludwig, you said something about a war, is that why?'

'It's not a full war right now,' Ludwig said. 'Nobody can stop anybody else, or a real war might start.'

'Russia and America are using the halves of Germany to fight because they can't fight each other directly,' Gilbert said, leaning back in his seat, lip curling. 'And Russia is running their half into the ground.'

'You know how Europe is divided into east and west?' Ludwig asked. Feliciano nodded. 'Berlin is divided in the same way. We...we lived there. Until we left.'

'On which side?' Feliciano asked.

The car went silent. Feliciano felt like he'd stepped over the line. In the silence, Gilbert cleared his throat.

'East,' he said.

0o0o0o

Feliciano's grandfather was waiting when they came back. Feliciano ran to him, but all his excited words failed when he remembered the angry, helpless curl of Gilbert's mouth when he talked about the proxy war. Feliciano had thought war was over. He'd been promised it was over, and that he wouldn't ever have to experience the screaming and bombs and diving planes he saw on TV sometimes, right before Lovino changed the channel.

He didn't blame Ludwig at all for leaving. He didn't blame his grandfather for uprooting them from Venice, either, if it meant he never had to see war.

'How was Houston?' his grandfather asked.

'Amazing! There's a lot of people, even though it's early Saturday. Ludwig gets up really early, did you know? I don't think I could do that. But it was worth it, there's an art store and Francis.'

'Did you say thank you?' his grandfather asked with a smile. Feliciano turned around and waved.

'Thank you so much!'

'You're welcome any time.' Gilbert pushed his hands into his pockets, and Feliciano could see the moment he remembered what he'd put in the inner pockets. 'Hey, Feli, if I can steal you for a few more minutes. I've been meaning to tell you about your art and all.'

'Go ahead,' Roma chuckled. 'Lovino has run off, too. Say, Feliciano, did you see him downtown? He said he might not be back for an hour or two, and I thought he might have gone with you.'

'Not with us, but Francis said Antonio was supposed to be downtown,' Feliciano remembered. 'I'll ask him if they were together when he comes back. He'll have fun, I bet he'll really like the restaurants there!'

'I was thinking he'd pick a girl up and take her out,' his grandfather chuckled, turning back to the house. 'There's no girls in his books at all, I've looked at the back. He needs to get out! Am I right, Feliciano?'

'Well...' Feliciano didn't know who to look to. Ludwig nodded, just barely. Feliciano looked back at his grandfather. 'Sure, if that's what he likes.'

'It is, don't worry. It'll be good for him. Run along, now.' His grandfather ruffled his hair and went back inside the house.

Gilbert appeared at his side, grin tight around the edges.

'Come on,' he said.

0o0o0o

'I don't think you're allowed inside Gilbert's room,' Ludwig said when they went inside. 'It has...posters.'

'It's fine,' his grandfather called from the base of the stairs, sorting through the pressed, stiff clothes. 'Won't hurt him.'

'What are the clothes for?' Feliciano asked.

'Church.' Ludwig looked away, and Feliciano didn't press the subject. Gilbert silently opened his door.

Feliciano didn't know what to think of the posters on the walls. They all had women on them, and they were stretching and contorting in ways that looked...weird. They didn't have a lot of clothes on. Feliciano didn't know if whoever Gilbert loved liked having all the posters on the walls.

Gilbert was rustling around underneath his bed, and pulled out a shoebox. He unzipped his jacket, and in quick, hurried movements, dropped the magazines and sheet music into the box and closed it. Feliciano got his first look at the magazines, and he saw skin stretching and bending like on the posters, but muscled and hard, and they made his stomach do funny turns.

Gilbert put away the box and turned to them.

'Vati is always on my case about buying sheet music for an instrument I don't play,' he said lowly. Feliciano had the feeling he'd been invited over for more than a simple introduction to writing. 'But that's not the point. You wanted to learn about writing?'

'Yes.' Feliciano held up a hand as a thought struck him. 'Wait! What does Der Große Krieg mean? I saw Va-I saw your grandfather reading a book with that name.'

'You're pronouncing it wrong. It's a harder -ss sound, not -b. Der Große Krieg means The Great War,' Ludwig said.

'World War One,' Gilbert said quietly. He glanced up and Feliciano's fear must have reflected on his face, because he nodded. 'No more distractions. I write letters, and I try to write stories.'

'To who?'

'That's a secret.' Gilbert laughed and opened a few drawers, pulling out ruled notecards covered in messy scribbles. 'Here, you can read this one.'

It's a few lines of dialogue, but the voice is unmistakably Gilbert's-wit and confidence and something like homesickness in the way the characters discussed faraway rains in different, peaceful worlds.

'It's good!' Feliciano exclaimed. Ludwig looked fairly impressed. Gilbert snorted and took the card back.

'Of course it is. Ludwig, you can't look at me like that. You don't do art.'

'I can teach you to paint,' Feliciano instantly offered. Ludwig opened his mouth to answer, but Gilbert cut him off.

'Don't bother. He's the good kid. He's going to become a doctor or something.' Gilbert reached over and ruffled Ludwig's hair down. 'I'm proud of you.'

They were interrupted by the screech of a car outside. Feliciano ran out into the hallway to see outside. A car was parked in the driveway, and sitting in the passenger seat was-

'Lovino!' Feliciano exclaimed, racing down the stairs. Gilbert unlocked the door, and Antonio beamed at all of them.

'Hello, Gilbert and Ludwig. And Feliciano!' Antonio picked him up, and Feliciano giggled. 'Nobody told me you would be here today!'

'We just got back from downtown Houston,' Feliciano explained.

'What a coincidence! So did we.' Antonio called back. 'Lovino! Guess who's here?'

'Gilbert,' Lovino's muffled voice called. 'And his brother. And their grandfather. Who else?'

'Feliciano's here! They also just came back from downtown.'

There was a crash, and Antonio ran around the corner. He came back carrying a large box. Lovino followed, not making eye contact with anybody.

'Have you got the-?'

'Come upstairs,' Gilbert instructed.

Antonio seemed to know where everything was in Gilbert's room. He glanced at the posters and made an expression like he was trying not to smile. Lovino crossed his arms and sat down next to Antonio on the bed.

'What are you unhappy about?' Feliciano asked him, and he scowled deeper.

'I'm not unhappy about anything.'

'Lovi, everything's fine,' Antonio said earnestly. Lovino made a face.

'Don't call me stupid names in front of everyone, bast-Antonio.'

'It's not a stupid name.' Antonio bumped their knees together and accepted the shoeboxes Gilbert had pulled out from under the bed. Lovino stared into the distance and didn't answer. His ears were red.

'What are you doing?' Ludwig asked. Feliciano gave him a look. He had assumed that Ludwig knew about whatever was happening, but he evidently didn't.

Ludwig gave him a look back that seemed to say that Gilbert never told him anything.

Antonio filled the box with shoeboxes and stood up.

'Anything else?'

'No. Just take it to-to downtown.' Gilbert seemed more brusque than before.

'What's inside all the shoeboxes? Why are you taking them downtown?' Feliciano asked. By the looks he got from Gilbert, he'd almost forgotten they were still there.

'Fitness magazines and sheet music for a concert hall,' he said.

'Why do you need fitness magazines there?'

Gilbert shrugged, busying himself with tidying the edges of the boxes.

Feliciano watched them carry the box to Antonio's car. Lovino leaned against the wall of the house and frowned into the heat.

'Were you downtown with us?'

'I was with Antonio, not you,' Lovino said.

'Are you friends with Antonio?' Feliciano asked . Lovino jumped and dropped something, which he scrambled to pick back up.

'No,' he said roughly. He was turning the thing over in his fingers.

'But why would he drive you around and do nice things like talk to you about books if you aren't friends? I think you two are-'

'He's a stupid Spaniard with a good car,' Lovino hissed, slapping his hand against the wall. Feliciano could imagine how much his palm would sting. 'That's all.'

'Are you sure?'

'Absolutely.'

Feliciano wasn't the only one who caught Lovino's eyes flick to Antonio. Ludwig nodded at him, and Feliciano started to plan.

0o0o0o

The seventies are a happening place.

:: Old songs you didn't know you remembered the lyrics of