I try to make things period-accurate.

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Ludwig hated this. The long car ride home, the silence broken only by Gilbert trying to be loud-tapping his fingers on the door and humming something that sounded like Nocturne. He'd been acting out more and more at church, and Vati started to drag them home and then-

Ludwig turned to stare out the window and tried not to think of what came next. The shouting arguments about what and who was right and wrong, with Gilbert rebelling against every word just because he could, but Ludwig felt that Gilbert was always trying to carry on their last huge argument. Vati never seemed to realize that Gilbert was always arguing because of that. It was never the curfew or the car or the sneaking out, it was the argument that had led to them having to leave Berlin.

'Sorry, little brother.'

Ludwig jerked away from the window and his thoughts to look at him. Gilbert ruffled his hair-he'd started pushing it back again-and smiled. His eyes were shadowed.

'For what?'

'Pulling you out of church before you could talk to Feliciano.' Ludwig's heart momentarily jumped at Feliciano's name, but the feeling was crushed by the fear when Gilbert turned back around and tucked his feet under him, leaning his knees on the glove box. Like a bird. Exactly like Vati had told him not to.

This time, his grandfather said nothing, and Ludwig knew something bad was coming at home. He leaned his head against the window and wished for something more than the stifling, humid heat, or Feliciano.

When they got home, Ludwig lingered in digging the music sheets out of the recycling, unwilling to see the familiar scene inside. When he finally slipped inside, he saw them standing there. Gilbert, defiantly leaning against the wall, arms crossed over one of the band shirts Vati hated, secret jacket pockets full of music and magazines. He'd refused to change into better clothes for church. Vati standing quietly, every move cold, telling him wordlessly to make the first move. Ludwig stayed frozen in the doorway, desperately wishing for Feliciano to somehow appear and light up the whole room with his smile and take him somewhere far away from these horrible standoffs, but he was still at church.

'I wasn't even obscene this time,' Gilbert said.

'You were disrespectful.'

'I hear the same damn lecture like clockwork every week since we got here, and I'm disrespectful? That man needs to pick on someone else, someone less-'

'Less what?' Vati asked, voice as quiet and cold as it had been that fateful argument. Ludwig's world swayed, and he dug his nails into his palms. He was on the ground this time, not in the creaky attic rafters, listening to his world fall apart-

'Less already screwed up,' Gilbert said softly. 'By the entire world.'

'They are messed up. It's not right.' Vati's voice was rehearsed. 'It will never work out, Gilbert. Believe me. The world will not change because some pacifists hate themselves-'

'You think the world never changes?' Gilbert burst out, hands shaking, lunging forward at his grandfather. They stayed locked together, red on blue, and Ludwig shrank back against the door. 'You think the world never changes? I don't believe a word of that, because you said that right before the Wall came up and you fucked up my entire life-'

'I saved this family by moving us to the East,' Vati snarled, and this was the first time Ludwig had seen his grandfather so enraged. He'd heard it through the walls of their East house in that final argument, but this was the first time he'd seen the anger in those blue eyes, and he was terrified, heart-stoppingly terrified matched only by the fact that he couldn't recognize his brother in the rage.

'Saved us from what? Not working three jobs? Not nearly starving? Did you save my mother? Tell me, Aldrich, did you save Ludwig?'

Gilbert turned and pointed at him and Ludwig's mind was blind and blank with terror as he huddled further back against the door. Gilbert stared at him, red eyes crazed with furious grief, before the haze cleared and his horror was written plainly.

'Ludwig…' He broke ranks and knelt down, gathering Ludwig into his arms, and Ludwig held onto him tightly even if he was getting too old to be held, because Gilbert didn't hug him. 'Oh, baby brother, what are you doing downstairs? I thought I said…'

'I came in late,' Ludwig said. His voice was too quiet. He was expected to go upstairs when they started shouting, like it was common enough for him to know-but it was, wasn't it?

He couldn't tell Feliciano. Ludwig couldn't tell him why he loved staying out late with him, and that half of it was because his heart did acrobatics when Feliciano looked at him and the other half was because his brother didn't argue with his grandfather and he wasn't running from a war. He was normal, but also the strangest and most wonderful person Ludwig had ever met, and he never wanted to ruin that and show him this.

His grandfather knelt down and touched his shoulder. Gilbert didn't move to let him closer, but didn't push him away. Ludwig looked up into his grandfather's blue eyes and found a sort of shame there.

'Did I scare you?' he asked. Ludwig shook his head. He wasn't scared of him or Gilbert alone, he was scared that together, they'd break apart and leave him even more alone.

They stayed close for a few silent seconds before his grandfather stood back up, and Gilbert slowly let him go, and Ludwig wished they hadn't left.

'I didn't know you were downstairs,' Gilbert said. 'It didn't-it didn't register until the end, I didn't realize what was happening. I'm sorry.'

'I'm okay,' Ludwig said, because he had to be. Gilbert's face was slack and empty and Ludwig just wanted to go downtown to get away, but he needed to stay because if he was still here they'd both be too guilty to start shouting again, and if he didn't, they would argue, and Ludwig would come back to Gilbert having stormed out, and even though he hated the arguing, the silence would be a thousand times worse.

'Go upstairs,' Gilbert said gently.

'I want you to come, too,' Ludwig insisted. Gilbert's eyes flicked back to where their grandfather was standing silently and he nodded.

They sat on Gilbert's bed. Looking at the posters now made Ludwig feel dizzy. He really didn't want to press for answers now, but if Gilbert was guilty, he would be lenient, and he could finally understand something and fix all this.

He'd promised Feliciano he wouldn't tell his grandfather who Gilbert loved if he knew, but right now, he wasn't so sure, and that made him feel sick to his stomach.

'What keeps happening with Antonio and the magazines?' he asked. 'Is that why Vati's angry?' he added, even though he knew it wasn't.

'I go downtown and buy the things, and Antonio takes it to the concert hall. It's a favour.' He shrugged. 'Vati just doesn't like it cluttering my room. He says there's no use in muscle magazines if I don't go to the gym, and I don't play an instrument.'

'Why would you do a favour like that?' Ludwig pressed. He knew Gilbert was mostly lying because Feliciano had seen his flute, but the person must live downtown, and they played piano, because the magazines had ended up in the church. 'Is it because the person you're in love with is a musician at the concert hall?'

Gilbert went completely still. Ludwig froze, sure he had made a mistake.

'How do you know that?' he asked jerkily. Ludwig took a deep breath and tried to hold his ground.

'Because the music sheets were for piano, and-' He fumbled, hoping desperately Gilbert wouldn't instantly know they'd been spying on him. '-and there's no piano in the house.'

In the seconds Gilbert studied him, Ludwig could barely recognize his brother but in a different way than when he argued. There was something wild and wary in his eyes like he'd lived his whole life on the edge, and maybe he had. Gilbert didn't talk about Berlin because Berlin meant the Wall, and they didn't talk about the Wall like they didn't talk about the war-everyone knew it but they never said so.

'Yes,' Gilbert said finally, sitting back. Ludwig saw him nudge a long, thin box further underneath his bed. 'It's-it's a musician from the concert hall. But you won't tell Vati that.'

'You keep a lot of secrets,' Ludwig said. He didn't mean to, but all his frustration had been seething, twisted up with fear and the horrible confusion of everything Gilbert had shouted, just now settling into his thoughts.

'Don't you dare tell him,' Gilbert hissed, grabbing his shoulders. Ludwig stared at him, fear scrambling his thoughts again-moved to the East, running from the Wall and the wars you never talk about, okay, little brother? They can hear you.

Gilbert let go.

'I'm sorry, that was too much,' he said. 'Ludwig, you're shaking.'

'Why did we have to move to the East?'

Gilbert's face closed off. 'Because Vati is scared of the Red Army. He didn't want to be in the West when he thought it would be taken over.'

'So he was trying to protect us?'

'Cowardice isn't protection, Ludwig.' Gilbert ruffled his hair again. 'That's how I see it.'

'What about your mother?'

'Our mother.' Gilbert shook his head. 'You don't need to know. Just don't tell Vati about my musician.'

Ludwig nodded, and Gilbert relaxed.

The doorbell rang, and Ludwig was the first down the stairs.

'Hello, Ludwig.' Feliciano beamed up at him, face ruddy from running. Antonio waved from the car idling on the curb. 'Do you want to go downtown?'

'Yes.' Ludwig pulled back when he remembered, looking for Gilbert.

'Go ahead, little brother.' Gilbert nudged him with his knee, and the look of easy happiness in his eyes filled Ludwig with a guilt he didn't entirely understand. Gilbert's eyes slid towards where their grandfather was reading his war book in the living room, and he nodded almost imperceptibly, his mouth twitching into a don't worry smile.

Even though he remembered that smile from Berlin when the Red Army officers had walked too close, Ludwig nodded again and followed Feliciano to the car. Lovino eyed them from the front seat, toying with the pages of a new book called Quatrefoil.

When they collapsed into the sun-heated seats of Antonio's car, Feliciano waited until they'd started moving and the wind and loud Spanish music blocked their words before leaning close, eyes crinkled in worry around the corners.

'Ludwig, what's wrong?'

'Gilbert and Vati argued again,' Ludwig said, but his resolve for all his secrets crumbled when he looked at Feliciano. 'Gilbert blames Vati for moving us to the East, because when the Wall went up we had to leave.'

'You lived in the West half?' Feliciano asked.

'I was very young.' Ludwig ignored the warning in his mind that he was telling too much and kept talking because he wanted to tell and be understood like he never had before. 'Gilbert remembers more than I do what it was like.'

'I'm sorry,' Feliciano said, so genuinely and honestly that Ludwig's chest twisted into knots and he had to look away.

'It's not your fault, Feliciano. I don't know why you apologize for things like that.'

'Because you're unhappy, and I hate when you're unhappy.' Feliciano reached out and took his hand, and Ludwig's knotted chest exploded into flutters and he felt like he could take a real breath for the first time since Gilbert spoke out if every ounce of oxygen hadn't been knocked from his lungs. 'I...I'm not very good at knowing what you think, Ludwig, and so maybe you're thinking something completely different than I think you are right now, but if you are then I think I can make you a bit happier.'

'What am I thinking?' Ludwig asked, heart in his throat, chest in good knots. He didn't even know what he was thinking except Feliciano.

Feliciano laughed, leaning closer, his golden eyes catching the American sunlight. 'You want something beautiful.'

It was true enough, Ludwig thought, because he wanted something involving Feliciano, and he was beautiful.

'Almost there,' Antonio called over the music and rushing wind, and Feliciano squeezed his hand a final time and sat back.

'Francis is probably in the art store today,' Antonio said, ushering them out of the backseat. Lovino followed, folding the book into his back pocket and speaking quietly with Antonio, who seemed delighted. 'Do you two mind if I show Lovi where the best food is here after I drop you off with Francis?' he asked, turning around. Feliciano looked equally happy, and said he didn't mind.

'Are you excited?' he asked. Ludwig knew he shouldn't be, that this seemed wrong in some way he couldn't explain but reminded him of sitting in church and listening to the preacher every week. However, it also filled him with a kind of thrill of disobedience, of Feliciano, and on this high he could almost understand Gilbert's rebellion. He wasn't supposed to ask questions, but Feliciano led him to make bold decisions and it felt good.

'I think so.'

'Good.' Feliciano smiled and it was worth it.

Francis was reading a book as well called Bottoms Up. It had a strange bar scene on the front, and he tucked it under a canvas when they came in.

'Where's Gilbert?' he asked. Antonio's cheerful smile flickered.

'Busy.'

Francis nodded, brow furrowing. Feliciano stepped forward.

'We have some questions.'

'Of course.' Francis glanced at Antonio and Lovino, hovering by the doorway. 'When will you two be back?'

'Soon enough. Just give Roses a call when they've exhausted you,' Antonio said breezily. 'Don't expect us too soon.'

When the door shut, the art store was quiet and waiting, almost, for someone like Feliciano to begin work again. Francis watched Antonio walk away before he pointed them towards chairs.

'What's making Gilbert so busy?' he asked lightly, but Ludwig could see the way his fingers clenched on his paintbrushes as he swept them into a box.

'His grandfather,' Ludwig said.

'Of course.' Francis slid the box back into a shelf and pulled a shade, shielding them from view through the window. His posture was unusually somber as he sat down. 'You had questions?'

Feliciano looked desperately at him, and Ludwig nodded, urging him to ask. He knew what they both wanted to know.

'The preacher talked about people who are homosexual,' Feliciano said, and Francis took a deep breath.

'It means people who love the same sex.'

'But the way he talked about it-I love my friends and family, and some of them are boys, too.'

'Not like that.' Francis met Ludwig's eyes as he talked, and his words sunk deep into Ludwig's thoughts, down to the fragile knowledge of the fluttering feeling he got when Feliciano looked at him. 'You can love your friends and family, but you don't love them romantically. You don't want to kiss them, do you?'

'I kiss people to say hello,' Feliciano said. Francis laughed.

'No, not like that. For example, when you look at a girl, and think about how she's the most beautiful thing in the world, more than anyone else, and you want to kiss her and touch her. Sometimes boys feel like that for other boys, and girls feel that for other girls.'

'Oh.' Feliciano wouldn't look at him, but Ludwig couldn't look away.

'Anything else?' Francis asked.

Feliciano was quiet, staring at his hands for a long time. Ludwig couldn't think straight past the way Feliciano looked in this shadowed, dusty space of creation with the dust floating on sunlight through his hair and getting stuck in his long eyelashes. Slowly, slowly, his golden eyes raised off the floor and met Ludwig's, and he felt like flying and falling and less and more scared than he'd ever been before, his heart in double rhythm in every inch of his body. He was aware of being close to him like electricity and of breathing.

'I think I get it,' Feliciano said softly. He turned back to Francis. 'Is it-it's not wrong, is it? The preacher said it was.'

'Some people don't accept it,' Francis said. 'I don't think it's wrong. It's up to everyone to understand by themselves.'

0o0o0o

Tracing history for things like expressions is actually very enjoyable.

:: Old sailing ships with painted sails