The way every part of the setting develops with time is important.

0o0o0o

Francis left them alone in the dusty corners of the shop as he went into the back for 'stocking'. Ludwig was just grateful he had time to recollect his thoughts and talk to Feliciano, but he was too nervous and distracted to summon the courage to speak first.

Every time he glanced up from whatever art materials he was pretending to understand, Feliciano had hastily looked away, but one time, Ludwig caught his wide golden eyes in the act of turning back to a paint set and Feliciano froze. The was a strange look on his face, almost exactly like that time in the garden; entranced and a bit pained in awe. Ludwig didn't know how he felt about anyone looking at him like that, especially Feliciano-hot and fluttering, maybe, but guilty as well. It felt like a lie because Feliciano didn't know how much Gilbert and Vati argued and how much Ludwig couldn't stop it.

'You're staring again,' Ludwig told him. Feliciano's mouth opened soundlessly.

'I finished the painting of you,' he said in a rush. 'It's not here, it's at home, and I've been thinking of it for a while but there wasn't a good time to tell you, and this wasn't the best time either since I can't show you but you should still know.'

'Is it good?' Ludwig asked, unsure what else to say. Feliciano tilted his head, eyes sparkling in the semi-darkness behind the closed blind.

'I don't think you could look bad if you tried.' He stepped closer and swallowed, nervously pushing back the brim of his cap. 'Sei bello, Ludwig.'

Ludwig fumbled all his words halfway through thanking him and abruptly picked up a book on drawing instead. He didn't have Feliciano's courage to say those things, to tell him that he was the beautiful one, the artist who saw the best in everything.

Feliciano didn't back away this time, and Ludwig's heart kept pounding, making his head light.

'Ludwig, tell me how to say you're beautiful in German,' he said.

'Du...du bist wunderschön, Feliciano,' he rasped. He didn't know what he was even feeling-disorganized and wild and risky and good. Feliciano mouthed the words back, eyes steady on his.

'Thank you,' he said. He tugged Ludwig over to the seats and sat down. Ludwig noticed faintly that his hands were shaking, and tightened them on the book.

'Francis knew a lot about...that,' Ludwig offered. The mention of it made him shudder, but for once it wasn't in fear. He didn't fear the old things he had ever since they left Berlin around Feliciano.

'I don't think the preacher is right.' Feliciano looked at him for confirmation, but Ludwig was too conflicted to even nod. 'There's-there's no reason for him to hate people like-like that,' he continued, voice stronger. 'If it's just marriage, then that doesn't matter, right? I don't think I'm going to get married.' He giggled, face red with embarrassment, and Ludwig tried for a smile, but his stomach felt heavy.

'Doesn't your grandfather keep telling you to find a-' He almost stumbled on the word for some reason, '-a girl?'

Feliciano's smile faded. 'He tells that to Lovi, too. I don't think he means it. I hope he doesn't mean it. I think he knows more about all of this than me, though, Lovino.' He shuffled his feet, staring up at the ceiling. 'Ludwig, does your grandfather ever tell you to get a girlfriend?'

'No.' Ludwig didn't say it was because he spent too much time shouting at Gilbert. Feliciano didn't tell him he was lucky, and Ludwig was immeasurably grateful. 'It's-its just how it is. That's what Vati says, and that the world won't change.' He almost choked on the words.

'The world always changes, Ludwig.' Feliciano looked shocked. 'That's what artists do. We change the world.'

'I'm not an artist,' Ludwig pointed out.

'Not yet. Or you could be my model, you know, for my art. Lots of old artists had special models.'

'You intend to change the world into one where…' Ludwig almost couldn't process it. Feliciano giggled again, face red.

'Maybe. If you wanted it, I could.'

Ludwig pulled away. He didn't mean to, but his head hurt from balancing the words of Vati and Gilbert and the preacher and Feliciano. He couldn't think of what he wanted-he didn't even know what he wanted, or how he felt about all of this.

'You're pushing your hair back again.' Feliciano's voice was soft and sober as hand brushed along the back of his, and Ludwig stopped.

'I'm sorry.'

'Don't apologize.' Feliciano smiled, swinging his legs. 'Can you tell me about Germany? I've never been there. Nonno said he had, but it was a long time ago and he doesn't like to talk about it anymore.'

'What do you want to know about?' Ludwig asked.

Feliciano moved closer. 'Tell me...tell me about the war. The one right now.'

Feliciano's eyes were bright gold in the safe shadows of the art shop, and Ludwig knew that this time, like every other time Feliciano asked, he could not say no but he couldn't tell everything. It's a secret, that's what he knew, a secret because nobody-especially Feliciano, with his art and questions and the way he looked at him and made him feel like flying-would look at him the same way again if he explained.

He can't know that Vati was willing to stay if not for the fact that he didn't want Ludwig growing up there, if not for the argument that'd shaken the walls, the one that made Ludwig so terrified of heights because he'd crawled up into the attic rafters, so sick of being kept in the dark, only to hear his brother scream back and what he'd heard had made him sick with terror. Every time he got up high all he could hear was his world falling apart.

You did what?

You don't understand, they are the most beautiful person in the world to me-

You're a disgrace.

Disgrace or not I'm your daughter's son. And Ludwig is too.

You've endangered us all.

Gilbert had kissed someone he wasn't supposed to. He hadn't been careful with all the wire taps everyone knew were in the windows, he'd said too many things about the war we don't talk about and mixed it with too many love yous and jokes that might not have been jokes about tearing down the Wall we don't talk about either, and now the Stasi was coming for him.

The state didn't care that Gilbert was not yet fifteen and wouldn't hurt anyone, that he was kinder than he looked and braver than anyone and always told Ludwig I won't let anyone hurt you and you're gonna have a better future, they didn't care that he helped Ludwig through a world he didn't understand at all. They were coming to lock him away.

They'd left before it could happen. Ludwig didn't know how they'd been able to leave on the plane. He wasn't supposed to ask questions. He kept his thoughts to himself.

He kept thinking that maybe it was best if he didn't know, if he hadn't climbed into the rafters and had kept his head down, he'd have been happier, and then Feliciano came and knocked his life wide open and made him do things and ask questions because there was no other way to understand, and Ludwig wanted to understand Feliciano. He wanted to understand and be understood so deeply it scared him.

'Vati's scared of the Red Army,' he began, remembering Gilbert, tripping on his words, clenching his fists. 'He made a lot of decisions to get away from them, and finally he moved us here.'

'It's okay to be scared of things,' Feliciano said in a small voice. 'You know, we moved here because Nonno said he wanted a fresh start, away from Venice, in a place where nobody knew the fear of the wars, which I didn't understand because I think I could spend my entire life in Venice, war or not, it's where I grew up-or, at least that's what I thought until I met you, Ludwig, and I'm really glad I moved to America because you're here.' He smiled, eyes crinkling around the corners. 'Lovino wanted to move to Rome, that's where he was born, but Nonno said we were going to Houston instead. Ludwig, have you ever been to Venice or Rome? I want to take you there when we're grown up, after Europe is safe and then you can show me Berlin without the wall in it.'

'Why was your brother born in Rome if you were born in Venice?' Ludwig asked. Feliciano looked at a loss for answers for a moment.

'Because...because my mother moved to Venice after she had Lovino. Nonno thought the sea air might make her better.' He looked out the window, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

'I'm sorry, Feliciano,' Ludwig said, helpless in the face of the raw emotion. Feliciano shook his head and smiled, surreptitiously brushing at his eyes.

'It's fine. You didn't know. Not...not a lot of people do.' He took a deep breath, stretching out a hand to him, a sad, gentle half-smile lingering on his face, so utterly pained Ludwig ached deep with the inability to stop his hurt, with the fear that he was holding with such a deep part of his artist. 'Venice has a lot of flowers, you know. She loved them, and so did I.'

'Do you not anymore?'

'There hasn't been many flowers here.' Feliciano's eyes caught his, gold bright like a flower after a rainstorm.

'I should open the shop again soon,' Francis declared, striding out from the back, tucking a paperback into his apron pocket. Feliciano straightened, but did not move away. 'If either of you two have any more questions, my door is always open.' He fixed both Ludwig and Feliciano individually with his gaze before chuckling and reaching for the phone. 'Run along now, I'll be calling your brother and Antonio.'

'Thank you,' Feliciano said, all traces of his painful confession tucked away. Their hands brushed again. 'Are you coming?' he asked at the door, when Ludwig still had not moved from the chair.

'Soon,' Ludwig said. Feliciano nodded and closed the door.

Ludwig brought the book on drawing to Francis. He wanted something of Feliciano's beauty in the world. He wanted Gilbert to be wrong about him not understanding Feliciano because he wasn't an artist. He had felt the sheer intensity of Feliciano's emotions and he understood what Feliciano meant about wanting to draw. Before he could open his mouth, Francis shook his head.

'It's on the house,' he said, a smile playing on his lips as he glanced out to where Antonio had pulled up outside and was talking enthusiastically. Ludwig thanked him and tucked the book inside his black jacket before pulling it shut around his own secret, over his church clothes, and going to meet Feliciano outside.

0o0o0o

Feliciano hadn't been able to show Ludwig his painting, because Nonno had said it was time for supper.

His emotions still felt jumbled and raw from confessing, but it had hurt in a good way, like taking off a weight he'd carried for a long time and stretching out towards the sun. Like a flower towards the rain, like looking into Ludwig's bluer-than-the-sky eyes.

'Did you find any girls?' Nonno asked, pointing at Feliciano with his fork. Feliciano startled out of his thoughts.

'No.'

'Why not?' he teased. 'Lovino? Have you?'

'I was painting,' Feliciano lied in a rush. 'Lovino was-'

'Driving around.' Lovino took another bite and chewed like he was daring anyone to ask again.

'How does your painting not have girls falling at your feet?' Nonno joked. 'And Lovi, boy, what car have you gotten? Don't tell me if you won it through gambling, just tell me you haven't lost too much-'

'It's Antonio's car,' Lovino interrupted. His ears were red. Feliciano took another bite as an excuse not to have to comment on what would happen next.

'Antonio?' Nonno frowned, brows furrowed. 'Why would he-'

'He was driving me and Ludwig downtown,' Feliciano explained hurriedly. 'And Lovino was invited.'

'It's too damn hot in the house all the time to stay around,' Lovino added. 'You still haven't fixed the air-conditioning, have you?'

'I'm getting to it, there's no reliable mechanics in the area.' Nonno was distracted, he wouldn't bring up Antonio again. Feliciano felt guilty for a reason he didn't quite understand, down to who he felt the guilt towards.

'Gilbert fixed the motor of our lawnmower once, maybe he could help,' Feliciano offered. Nonno paused, nodding thoughtfully.

'We can ask him tomorrow. I don't appreciate the stunt he pulled in church, but having a mechanic boy next door certainly has it's uses.' He chuckled, looking contemplatively towards Ludwig's house. 'Though I never knew Aldrich as the type to have one of his boys become a mechanic.'

'Do you know him?' Feliciano asked. He recognized the look in his grandfather's eyes, something of an old memory.

Roma went still, eyes fixed on the window where Aldrich was talking to his grandsons. After a moment, he shook his head and gave a laugh that sounded strained to Feliciano.

'I have enough of a grasp on his character to know that about him in just a few days, Feliciano,' he said, patting his head. Feliciano nodded and went back to eating, the knowledge that his grandfather hadn't answered his question stuck in his head.

0o0o0o

That night, Feliciano crept over to Lovino's room and eased open the door. His lamp was on but muted under his pillowcase thrown over the shade, and he was frantically flipping through a thin paperback book, muttering to himself. When he saw Feliciano, he shoved the book under his bare pillow, ears red.

'What are you doing up?' he whispered furiously. 'You were supposed to go to bed an hour ago, Feliciano.'

'I want to know some things,' Feliciano said. Lovino hesitated, eyes flicking between him and the open door, before he muttered a curse and leaned further back against his headboard, patting the spot beside him.

'Just close the door, will you?'

Ecstatic, Feliciano did and bounded over to sit beside his brother. Lovino looked down at him with a glimmer of fondness in his hazel eyes.

'Did Francis not have the answers you wanted to hear?'

'He did,' Feliciano said emphatically. 'But I need to know some other things, and you might read about them or Antonio knows because he assists the preacher.'

'Feliciano-'

'Why does the preacher hate homosexual people?' Feliciano pressed. 'What's wrong with them?'

'It is-it is God's law that a marriage is a man and a woman,' Lovino recited. His hands clenched periodically into fists on the bedsheets. 'You heard him, Feliciano. I don't need to repeat it.'

'But why?'

'Because-because it's wrong, Feliciano, I don't know how else I can get it through to you.' His eyes flashed dangerously, but Feliciano held on, all his words pulling him into bad decisions again.

'But Antonio-'

'Don't bring Antonio into this,' Lovino spat. 'You wouldn't-you can't understand that, I told you.'

'You're friends, what is there not to understand?' Feliciano said, but something about that felt strange now. 'Like me and Ludwig.'

'No. Not like you and Ludwig,' Lovino said sharply, and nothing more.

'Why not?' Feliciano asked. Lovino wouldn't answer. 'I heard you,' Feliciano said. 'You said Antonio had to decide between the scripture and you, and he said he had always-'

'You heard?' Lovino grabbed him, terror and rage flashing across his face. Feliciano's mind went blank, fear encompassing his thoughts, scrabbling back against the bed.

'I'm sorry, I couldn't find you and I heard you talking, and Lovino, he said he'd decided on you from the moment he saw yo-'

'I know! I know what he said!' Lovino nearly shrieked, only the quiet hour stopping him from screaming. Feliciano fell off the bed and scrambled to the door, hesitating for a moment more as the final piece of the puzzle fit so perfectly he didn't know how he'd never seen it before.

'Lovino, are you really just friends with Antonio?' he asked. 'Because Francis said-'

Lovino slammed his hands against the door frame and Feliciano crumpled to the ground with a squeak, petrified.

'Never say that again,' Lovino said in a quiet voice that chilled Feliciano to his bones. Without further argument, Feliciano turned and stumbled back to his room. He heard Lovino close and lock his door, and then the heavy thud of something being thrown against it. Feliciano sat down on his bed and noticed his hands were shaking. Lovino never acted like that.

He scrawled a note and flicked a pencil at Ludwig's window, needing to talk. It opened almost immediately and so he crumpled the note and swung himself up to sit on the sill.

'Feliciano? Feliciano, you're shaking,' Ludwig said, immediately concerned. Feliciano nodded. It wasn't entirely from fear, the air had cooled off and now he was shivering. Ludwig ducked down and came up with his black coat, which he tossed over. Feliciano caught it and gratefully slipped into the warmth.

'I tried to talk to Lovino,' he said. Ludwig's face tightened.

'Did he repeat what the preacher said?'

'Yes. And no. It started like that but when I asked him about Antonio he got furious and told me never to say those things again.' He wrapped his arms around himself and tried to forget the sound of Lovino's rage. 'Oh! I have your painting!'

Ludwig's brow furrowed, and he carefully settled on the ledge. His body was definitely more muscular, Feliciano noted, especially in the chest and the tilt of his limbs.

He tore his eyes away and carefully picked up the painting, untaping their language map from the back and setting it back on his dresser. He looked up and smiled at Ludwig to see him breathe in and smile back, and slid carefully onto the roof beneath him.

'Feliciano, be careful. You won't be able to use your arms to balance,' Ludwig told him.

'You will!' Feliciano sat down, stretching his bare feet along the cool tiles. 'Come on. I'll give it to you.'

Ludwig's eyes went to the drop first, and Feliciano sobered. He set the painting aside and held out his hand, balancing carefully on the slope. 'I won't let you fall, Ludwig. I will never let you fall. I promise.'

Ludwig took his hand and silently, after a wavering moment, dropped to the roof, feet skidding before he caught himself.

Feliciano cheered as loud as he could in the quiet, gently tugging him to sit cross-legged, and handed over the painting.

'You don't look afraid,' he said. Ludwig nodded, drinking in the details of the painting with an intensity that made Feliciano blush.

'I said, didn't I? I do this for you. I'm not afraid around you.'

Feliciano was caught off-guard for once, stunned utterly silent. Ludwig tilted his head and smiled, and his bluer than sky eyes caught the moonlight and glowed.

'It's true, you know,' he said confidentially, before going back to the painting. In the utter stillness and silence, Feliciano could see his breathing, chest rising and falling beneath his thin tank top. He wasn't wearing much else, just his shorts. Feliciano didn't know how Ludwig wasn't cold. He didn't know how he hadn't heard his heart pounding out of his chest yet. He didn't know how Ludwig said and did those things that filled his head with the most wonderful kind of confusion and made the world spin in good ways. Ludwig's word for beautiful sounded like wonder, and in this moonlight, everything was filled with a deep kind of wonder.

'It's yours,' Feliciano said, and his voice caught. 'The painting.'

0o0o0o

The emergence of new cultures and their reasons and effects are intriguing.

:: Hearing a singer's inflections