Learning about things like music and painting makes me want to learn how to do them.

0o0o0o

Ludwig hadn't been sure what Vati would think of Feliciano's painting. He didn't want to get dragged into the arguments, but he wanted Feliciano's painting.

He eventually put it next to the door, where Feliciano could see it, but it wasn't obvious. It was still a shock to see himself in paint after a few days, and he paused for a second to appreciate Feliciano's touch in it before going to knock on Gilbert's door. Ludwig heard a lot of papers being crumpled before Gilbert opened the door, defiant expression changing into bewildered happiness.

'You surprised me. What's happening?' he asked, ruffling Ludwig's hair with a smile.

'I need to go get something downtown.'

'This late? No, we'll go. Just write a note and put it on the door.' Gilbert shut the door again, and Ludwig heard him straightening all his papers and shoving his flute back under his bed before he came back out with a pen and a notebook. 'What are you getting? Isn't that book for drawing, not painting?'

Ludwig stiffened. Gilbert's grin dropped.

'Sorry.'

'It is,' Ludwig said. 'I just didn't think you saw.'

'I did.' Gilbert took the pen back and idly flipped it between his fingers, studying Ludwig in a way that looked slightly pained, like he was trying to find the right words. 'I also saw the painting you hung up.'

'It's by Feliciano,' Ludwig said. Gilbert jerked his head and scoffed, but not in a bad way.

'I know. You can see it practically in every stroke, he's completely-' He stopped.

'He's what?'

'Nothing. Come on, we're going. Remember to stick that on the door.'

Ludwig was distracted by the implications of whatever Feliciano was, and didn't notice he was still clutching the note until they were halfway down the road.

'Gilbert!' he yelled. Gilbert swore and slammed on the brakes as they skidded to the side of the road, whirling to face him.

'What's wrong?'

'I forgot...' Ludwig held up the note, shame flooding his chest. Gilbert stared at it for a long moment, a muscle in his jaw working. 'We have to turn around.'

'No.' Gilbert turned back around and gunned the engine, pulling them back onto the tarmac. Ludwig grabbed the sides of his seat, more than a bit terrified by his brother's sudden change.

'Gilbert, Vati will-'

'I don't care!' Gilbert screamed, flooring the accelerator. His nails dug into the wheel. 'Frankly, little brother, I don't give a damn what Vati thinks right now. We're going.'

Ludwig kept his head down and tried not to feel sick that this was his fault.

0o0o0o

When they pulled alongside the first rows of buildings, Gilbert finally eased off the accelerator. His nails had left marks on the wheel, and his whole posture looked pained and contorted, down to the raggedness of his breaths.

'Where do you need to go?' he asked quietly.

'Gilbert,' Ludwig began fearfully. Gilbert shook his head.

'Where?'

'The gardening building,' Ludwig relented.

'Can you get there on your own?' he asked. His eerie calmness was worse than his raging. Ludwig nodded, but when Gilbert didn't look back-Ludwig noticed he was shaking-he spoke.

'Yes.'

'Good. Meet me at the music hall in an hour. They're not too far apart, are they?'

'No.'

Gilbert silently drove a few more blocks before he stopped. Ludwig got out and watched as he accelerated wildly down a wider street. His tangled white hair made him look like a disgraced angel.

He silently unfolded the note he'd crumpled into illegibility and started walking, wishing quietly that Feliciano had been there, because Gilbert couldn't resist Feliciano when he started talking. Gilbert had said it, back when Ludwig had dug the piano music out, that what happened was not in front of the neighbors.

Ludwig shook his head to clear away the thoughts-no use wondering now, and kept walking.

The gardening and landscaping building was a massive, sprawling affair, full of the earthy smell of soil and the quiet rumble of water. Ludwig loved the solitude, and wandered for a while through the mazes of flowers in neat pots before he found what he wanted at the end. They didn't look like much, the flower seeds in tiny packets, but they were important, even if he knew next to nothing about gardening. He asked the nearest person for advice.

They were a small boy, shorter than Feliciano, with curious brown eyes and short black hair.

'I need help with flowers,' Ludwig said, suddenly awkward.

'What kind of flowers do you want?' He was quiet, and his reasonable tone among the hum of the water helped Ludwig forget the last half hour, but he still didn't know what kind of flowers he needed.

'You choose,' he said. The boy looked faintly surprised, and picked out a few packets.

'What are they for?'

'Feliciano Vargas,' he said before thinking. 'He's my-my friend.'

'Feliciano?' The boy's eyes widened in remembrance. 'Heracles told me the Vargas family had moved in recently.'

'He's from Venice, and if you knew what kinds of flowers grew there…'

'He won't want the chrysanthemums.'

'Why?'

The boy glanced up at him. 'Chrysanthemums are mourning flowers in Italy. I don't see them that way, however.' He offered a hand. 'My name is Kiku, after all.'

'I'm Ludwig.' He shook. 'I don't understand why…'

'Kiku means chrysanthemum.' Kiku picked up a few more packets, adding one to a pile already lying on the counter. 'Which of these flowers do you think he will like?'

'I don't know anything about flowers,' Ludwig confessed. 'It's-this is important, though. I think he misses Venice.'

Kiku gazed at him, brown eyes unreadable, before he smiled and handed Ludwig a packet of cornflower seeds.

'He'll like these,' he assured him.

Ludwig thanked Kiku and paid. He didn't want to go back to Gilbert so soon, though, and lingered by the plants, unwilling to leave this quiet sanctuary.

Kiku finally sat down next to him.

'Is something wrong?' he asked.

'I'm supposed to meet my brother at the music hall,' he said. Kiku looked puzzled, and Ludwig knew he had to explain. 'Gilbert.'

He wasn't sure what to make of the change on Kiki's face. It was something like respect and something like realization, like his perception of Ludwig was changed. The only person who'd never had that change was Feliciano.

'I apologize,' he said. 'You are related to Gilbert Beilschmidt?'

'I know we don't look alike,' Ludwig said. Kiku shook his head in surprise.

'You look very much alike. You hold yourselves the same,' Kiku said. Ludwig didn't know if it was a compliment or not. 'He's an exceptional musician, you know. The only person better in the entire hall is Roderich, of course.'

'Are you a musician?' Ludwig asked, wondering privately why his entire life seemed to be surrounded by artists and why he didn't know or mind it. 'Hold on, who is Roderich?'

'I intend to play in the strings section one day.' Kiku was looking at him strangely, like he thought Ludwig might be joking. 'Are you sure you've never heard of Roderich?'

'Gilbert doesn't tell me anything,' Ludwig said bitterly. 'He doesn't tell the hall about me, either.'

'I suppose not.' Kiku frowned in contemplation for a second before sitting straighter up. 'Roderich Edelstein is the piano player transferred here from Austria for a few months. On his own request, apparently. He's acclaimed nationally and devoted to his art, and he seems to be competing with your brother over who is the better musician.'

'Gilbert is competition for Edelstein?' Ludwig asked in astonishment. 'I've heard of him, back in Germany. He's a genius. Gilbert is-Gilbert can't be real competition for him.'

'Your brother is a better artist than you'd think,' Kiku said. 'Rumours have been going around, not that I have listened-that Roderich transferred here simply to face off against him.'

0o0o0o

Ludwig was still thinking of whatever was apparently happening in his brother's music hall long after he'd left the gardening building. The piano sheets must be from his competition with Edelstein. Kiku had promised to tell him more another day, and given him directions to a garden he frequented, but now Ludwig needed to find the music hall.

He was sure he was late when he finally arrived, and that Gilbert would be furious, but the front steps were deserted. Ludwig waited in the foyer, worry growing with every minute until a sleek car pulled up to the front and his brother got out, the prickling rage gone from every inch of his body as he grinned and spoke to whoever sat in the shaded backseat, the easy position of his body-arm slung over the roof as he leaned in, reaching for someone hidden there-speaking of something much more than a simple taxi ride.

When Gilbert finally turned around from watching the car pull away, he spotted Ludwig watching, wide-eyed, and froze. Both of them stared across the stairs, wondering how much the other had seen.

Gilbert broke the stillness and strode up to him, brow furrowed in concern instead of rage. Ludwig searched his face for any trace of the morning's anger, but all he found was guilt.

'I'm sorry,' Gilbert said. 'I shouldn't have done what I did. I was really bad-but it's not just this morning, is it? I haven't been a very good big brother to you.'

Ludwig didn't answer, too relieved to have Gilbert back. Gilbert's eyes flicked over his face, trying to gauge his reaction, before he laughed. 'You can say it. I know I haven't been doing what I'm supposed to.'

'You're not supposed to fight when I'm downstairs,' Ludwig said. It came out sounding pitiful, and his throat closed off. Gilbert hesitated and gently embraced him, untangling his hair.

'I know. I know. I'm sorry. I'm trying not to fight with him. We just can't agree on things, and your big brother's a bit of a bastard, you know. I can't keep my mouth shut when it should be.'

'Like in church?'

'No. I do need to speak out there. He's wrong, you know. I said I didn't support what he's against, but that was a lie.' Gilbert glanced up at the hall for anyone who might have heard, but Ludwig had seen the gleam in his eyes in Feliciano's when he caught onto an adventure.

And then the rest of it hit him, and the scattered pieces Ludwig had managed to glean of what had happened to move them here now started to come together.

'Are you…' Ludwig couldn't ask, the words got stuck on his tongue. He needed to talk to Feliciano and tell him everything about Edelstein. 'Are you going to fight with Vati when we get home over leaving without permission?'

'No.' Gilbert hefted a bag and dropped it in his lap. Ludwig opened it and found weights, for some reason. 'The story is that I snuck out to get exercise stuff. He can't get mad.' Gilbert ruffled his hair again. 'Come on, the car's this way.'

0o0o0o

Vati didn't say anything about sneaking out when they finally got home. Gilbert threw Ludwig a look that looked too triumphant and exhilarated. Gilbert managed a smile back and went to his room.

The heat clung to him, making all his moves sluggish. All he'd really done since Feliciano gave him his painting was read the book on drawing and practice and listen to Gilbert complain about the heat. Now that it was cooler in the evenings, it was the only time he was willing to move around. He didn't know how Feliciano stood it.

He wrote a note and hung it up before going back to practicing drawing. It was harder than it looked, because he kept accidentally drawing Feliciano. It was hard not to. He had an energy and brightness about him and he made sense, all his lines falling into the right places.

Ludwig groaned and tore off the top sheet in his notebook again. Feliciano had said that Ludwig could model for him, which made Ludwig confused in that sort of way Feliciano always did to him, but maybe if he did, he could ask Feliciano to stand still or just hold his blinding kinetic energy in the same place for more than half a second so Ludwig could sketch out the way his limbs always moved like he was dancing or running or something between the two.

He tore off that sheet too, reprimanded himself for blushing, and tried to draw a tree. The hard part was not drawing the apple tree in Feliciano's backyard and the universes he could pull out of thin air and capture in paint.

Something caught in the back of his mind, and Ludwig went to go look at Feliciano's painting. It was him, definitely, although brighter and braver-looking than he felt, but there was something about the painting that said knight to him. A shimmer in the grass that might be a sword or the way his coat rippled like a cape.

A pencil tapped on his window, and Ludwig spun around, hastily covering the discarded drawings lying on his desk, burying his manuals. Feliciano waved.

'Hello,' Ludwig whispered, sitting on the ledge. Feliciano slid down to sit on the roof, swinging his legs.

'Hello! You look happy.'

'I think I am,' Ludwig said. Feliciano smiled.

'I'm glad. You know, when you smile, all I can think is sei bello.'

Ludwig fumbled a response and tried to remember facts. 'I learned something about Gilbert's music from someone I met called Kiku,' he said. 'Gilbert's competing with a pianist, Roderich Edelstein.'

'I heard of Roderich!' Feliciano exclaimed. 'I didn't know he was here, and you said Gilbert was competing with him? He must be really good.'

'I know.'

Ludwig didn't know how to tell Feliciano things, or ask him things, because they were alone in the quiet sunset and all he could think of was that Feliciano's eyes were the exact colour of the clouds. He didn't know if he regretted the flowers now, it had been a stupid decision-but he still pulled them out.

'You said you missed flowers,' Ludwig said. Feliciano's eyes widened, and he did nothing for a long moment. Ludwig cursed himself and started to apologize when Feliciano stood up and grabbed his hand.

'Thank you,' he said. 'Ludwig, thank you so much.'

Ludwig tripped over his words again and nodded. Feliciano squinted at the back of the packet and giggled.

'Do you want to plant them now?'

'In your garden?'

'Yeah.' Feliciano crawled towards the edge before slipping off. Ludwig held his breath before he waved. 'I'll be right here.'

Feliciano didn't seem to be scared of anything, not like he was, but even heights didn't seem so bad when Feliciano was nearby.

'You've got this,' Feliciano said. Ludwig shut his eyes against the argument in his head and let himself drop.

'You're doing really well,' Feliciano said. 'I would kind of like to get better at my fears, but I also don't want to get tons of splinters because I would almost definitely get infected, and then I'd really have a reason to be afraid and it wouldn't just be an irrational fear.' He paused, fiddling with the packet. 'Ludwig, I don't think yours is an irrational fear. You'd never be scared of anything without reason.'

'But it isn't-' Ludwig stopped. He did have a reason, he just didn't like it. 'It's not irrational.'

'You're getting better.' Feliciano smiled again and opened the packet. 'I don't have any tools, so you should probably take off anything that you don't want to get dirty.'

Ludwig took off his jacket. Feliciano left on his smock, but took off his hat before pushing his hands into the flowerbed.

'I've never grown cornflowers before,' he said, busy digging the first hole. The moonlight silvered his hair and the lines of his face. 'I've heard they're beautiful.'

'I've never grown any flowers,' Ludwig said. Feliciano looked surprised.

'Never? Well, you can help me grow these ones.' He dug further into the flowerbed, stretching his fingers out. A stray curl stuck up when it wasn't held down by his cap, and Ludwig suddenly and fiercely wanted to draw him like this, the moonlight silvering his eyelashes and the earth in his hands.

'You're staring,' Feliciano said softly. Ludwig looked back at the flowerbed, but Feliciano's soil-covered hand touched his and brought his eyes back up. 'What are you thinking about?'

'I want to draw you,' Ludwig confessed.

'You draw?'

'I'm learning.'

'Ludwig, that's amazing,' Feliciano said, with that honesty that made his heart do cartwheels. His eyes stayed gold in the silver and when he smiled he was the most beautiful person in the world.

0o0o0o

However, writing doesnt require buying paint nor an instrument, so I make do.

:: Pale cream in old movies