I feel bad for what the characters are going through.

0o0o0o

He had discussed with Feliciano about going downtown and confronting Roderich about exactly what was happening and if Gilbert was going to be okay. Ludwig tried to remind himself of that and remember that there was a way to figure all of this out, but it was hard, because Gilbert tore up the rule books of life and wrote his own. He had left after school a few days later and when Ludwig came back alone, Vati had spent a terse hour on the phone before retreating upstairs. He'd said goodnight still looking distracted. Ludwig had crept back downstairs to wait. An hour. Two hours. The moon slid steadily across the sky and Ludwig just wanted answers, answers and his brother back.

He'd fallen asleep at the table, waiting, and the sudden blaze of headlights woke him up. Hushed voices broken by the harsh hiss of reprimand and a car door slammed. The scrape of a key in the lock. Ludwig was exhausted, drained, just staring at their sticky door handle that Gilbert hadn't gotten to fixing rattling under clumsy grip. When Gilbert opened that door, they would talk. They had to talk. Even if Ludwig was still too used to just obeying all his brother's orders to keep his head down and be quiet while Gilbert fought, because it would keep him safe.

Feliciano probably wasn't like that, he thought, a hot pulse of self-loathing surging through him, waking him up. He sat up straighter, promising that he wouldn't just do nothing.

The door finally unlocked and Gilbert stumbled in, grabbing the doorframe for balance. He was obviously drunk.

'God, I need to-need'ta stop,' he slurred, grabbing at the sink. His blurry red eyes fixed on Ludwig's, and shock cleared them for a second.

'What are you-you're still awake? Vati let you stay downstairs?' he asked. 'Baby brother-Ludwig, you can't do that.'

'I snuck downstairs myself. Why are you drunk? Where were you?'

'I'm drunk because there was a lot of stuff at the...guess it was a party. Downtown, near the art studio,' Gilbert said. He grimaced. 'You-you expected that, didn't you. The party. I shouldn't have gone.'

'I know.' Ludwig was too conflicted to feel anything. Gilbert nodded and, as mechanically as if Ludwig had ordered him to, ducked his head under the cold tap until he was shuddering, the chill pushing the air out of his lungs, making him blink and gasp. He didn't bother to towel off his hair, but he pushed it back into spikes and sat down across from him. He looked almost deranged in the moonlight, all his colours extremes.

'Did Vati try to call for me?' Gilbert asked. He sounded more lucid now.

'Yes.'

'Of course he did. Can't just give up the cause like Feliciano's.' He jerked his head towards the window. 'I saw his brother there. Looked like he was looking for someone. Hope he made it home safe.'

Ludwig had no words. Gilbert looked up at him, eyes shining softly.

'I'm sorry,' he said.

'But you'll do it again.' It wasn't a question.

'Yeah. Yeah, I will.' Gilbert's spikes were starting to drip into his face. He slicked them back instead, and with the pain showing through his mask of calm, bleached by the moonlight, he looked like Vati. 'Or...or maybe not. Maybe not, because little brother-' He laughed, and his facade cracked, showing a burst of terror. 'I think I made a mistake.'

'What happened?' Ludwig asked, trying to get a handle on his own rising panic. 'Was it at the party?' Gilbert opened his mouth silently, hands clenching desperately on the edge of the table.

'Yes, but Ludwig, you're too young.'

'No!' Ludwig couldn't let this happen again. 'You thought that about being gay, too. And I am.'

'Keep your voice down,' Gilbert pleaded, glancing nervously upstairs. 'No, that was different. I was just-I hoped, I guess, that you wouldn't be the same-'

'What?' Ludwig cried.

'You get hurt if you're like that,' Gilbert tried to placate. 'I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have hoped you weren't, I should have told you earlier about all of it, but I'm a bastard, okay? I'm not perfect, Ludwig. You're the good one.'

'No.' His voice cracked. 'If I was good, if I was better, I could stop you arguing with Vati all the time.'

Gilbert stopped.

'I'm sorry,' he said. The unspoken knowledge that he couldn't or wouldn't stop settled between them.

'I know,' Ludwig said tiredly. 'Just...tell me what happened. Please.'

'You don't want to know it. It's related to being gay.' Gilbert groaned and laid his cheek on the table. 'Just let yourself enjoy being yourself for a while, okay, little brother? You're a long ways off from having to worry about this. Just be careful who you...touch-which you won't be doing with anyone for a lot longer.'

'I want to know.'

Gilbert raised his head from the table. He was no longer evasive, and the force of his eyes dug into Ludwig, down to his core.

'If you knew what I'm worried about, you'd wish we weren't quite so alike,' he said. 'A lot of people already wish they weren't the way they were because of this fear. Maybe one day, that will change. But not right now.'

0o0o0o

Ludwig was beyond tired. Feliciano had subtly sat closer to him to hold his hand, and Ludwig was trying very hard not to doze off on his shoulder.

Feliciano's grandfather was driving them downtown to the art studio. Lovino had looked over at Ludwig and disagreed with the idea, and they started talking in rapid Italian. Ludwig spent the entire time forcing himself not to flinch, but this wasn't like the arguments in his house. Feliciano's grandfather was smiling, seeming to genuinely enjoy the debate, and Lovino relented after only a few exchanges. Ludwig still had the feeling that Lovino didn't trust him so much anymore.

'I'm glad they got over it so easily,' Ludwig had said, and Feliciano gave him a look.

'That wasn't an easy argument, Ludwig.'

Ludwig had elected not to talk about it anymore. It didn't matter, because Feliciano's grandfather was holding an entire conversation by himself, telling them about recent events and recipes and a woman he'd seen recently, switching from topic to topic with barely a pause for breath.

'-since your brother hasn't been letting me out of the house much,' Roma continued and Ludwig sat up, suddenly alert.

'Why hasn't Lovino been letting him out?'

'Because he's getting over a 'cough'.' Feliciano didn't seem to believe it. 'He's been sick for a while.'

They were left at the art store with a shouted promise to be back in two hours. Feliciano strode in purposefully to where Francis was helping someone Ludwig recognized.

'Kiku!'

Kiku spun to face them warily, but he relaxed.

'Hello, Ludwig. You must be-Ludwig has mentioned you-Feliciano?'

'Ludwig talked about you, too,' Feliciano said enthusiastically, grabbing Kiku's hand. Kiku awkwardly shook, but Feliciano didn't let go. He was already talking-almost like his grandfather, without a pause for breath. 'I heard how you helped with the flowers, and I've been taking care of them, they've almost bloomed again-you can have a few if you want-but I also heard about the fight, and...' He stopped. 'I'm sorry.'

'It's okay,' Kiku said. 'I was unhurt. Ludwig? Is Gilbert okay?'

There was no good answer to that. Gilbert barely recovered from that before falling into the pattern he was in now, if he'd recovered at all.

'He got better,' Ludwig said, leaving the before he got worse unsaid. Francis called Kiku to pay, and Feliciano finally let go of him. The moment Kiku had left, Francis rounded on both of them.

'What happened with Gilbert?' he asked sharply. 'Ludwig, you look exhausted. Did he wake you up?'

'I slept on the table and made him talk to me,' Ludwig said stubbornly. Feliciano's hand tightened in his. He refused to look over and see his worried eyes, or his resolve would break. Francis closed his eyes and muttered a curse.

'At the-by the loosest definitions, party, he went to, he made a very stupid decision. Did Gilbert tell you anything about that?'

'He wouldn't tell me anything except that it was related to being gay and that people were scared,' Ludwig said. 'Are you going to tell us?'

'No. You're too young, it would only worry you.' Francis paced, muttering in French to himself. 'Did Gilbert say anything about being tested for something? Medical work, forms, anything at all?'

'No.'

'When was the last time he left the house?'

'He left after breakfast.'

Francis went pale. 'Is he back? Was he carrying anything when he went?'

'What's the point of these questions?' Ludwig challenged. 'Tell us what he did and I'll answer.'

Francis' blue eyes blazed. He stalked closer, looming over them.

'This would not be the first time your brother has made a decision that endangers his life,' he said dangerously. 'He has done the bare minimum and kept you protected from knowing about most of those incidents. But this is the first one where you can make sure he will not be hurt. Was he carrying anything?'

Ludwig's fight vanished. 'His wallet. It was full of bills. He's not back yet.'

Francis turned, calmly walked over to the back wall, and slammed his fist into it with a low roar. He stood there, panting, eyes closed, free hand moving as if to cross himself, lips forming a prayer.

'God help us all,' Francis said when he was finished. He pulled out a flask from behind the counter and drank. When he was composed, he walked back over and sat down in a chair, pressing the heels of his hands into his face. He looked haggard. One of his knuckles was split, and blood trickled from the cut.

'Your hand,' Feliciano said. He gave Ludwig a terrified look. Francis shook his head, hollowly staring at the floor.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I had hoped. Gilbert never knew how to be careful.'

He shifted in his chair and sat up.

'What do you know about diseases?'

'Gilbert's sick?' Feliciano asked. He was fiddling with the edges of his pageboy cap again, like he always did when he was nervous.

'We don't know yet, but he might be.' Francis wiped at his face and continued, voice stronger. 'What he talked about-what scares people-is a disease you can get from other people. Usually gay people.'

'Will it kill him?' Feliciano asked, voice trembling. Francis took a deep breath.

'Feliciano, nobody knows much about this disease yet. He might not even have it. It's just a test…' He was running his hands through his hair, eyes wild. 'It won't. Not Gilbert.'

Francis sat in silence for another moment, staring at the floor. Finally, he stirred.

'What did you really come here for?'

'Roderich,' Feliciano said. 'We need to talk to him.'

Francis almost smiled and said he'd drive them.

0o0o0o

Francis drove them to the apartment. It was a sprawling, glittering sort of complex, but Ludwig couldn't appreciate it. The words were scratching at the inside of his head. Not Gilbert and gay and sick. The worry was eating away at him, and the only thing worse than the regret of knowing was the guilt of not knowing sooner.

Sometimes Gilbert was right, but sometimes he wasn't, and sometimes Ludwig had to do these things to just understand.

'Roderich lives here?' Feliciano asked from next to him, looking awed.

'He is fairly famous,' Francis noted. 'If Gilbert wasn't too proud to accept his help, he'd be in a much better place. Europe, for example. I'll be back in an hour.'

It took a few minutes of reading the directory to find the room they were looking for. The door was undecorated.

'No going back now,' Feliciano said, and rapped his knuckles on the door.

Roderich opened the door, first looking worried, then confused.

'Why are you here? Is Gilbert okay?'

'That's what we want to know,' Ludwig said grimly. Roderich hesitated before he opened the door wider to let them in.

The apartment was well-furnished, but had the unmistakable hands of two artists in it. Sheet music was scattered over the tables, burying the desk. Half-finished symphonies on scratch paper lay on the couch. A purple coat with note cards in the pockets was draped over a chair. Bright paintings hung on the walls. The sheet music on the piano was for a duet.

And perhaps it was just Ludwig, but the place sang with Gilbert's laugh and voice and touch. The poster on the wall about the singer Gilbert had talked about: Eno. Most of the clothes on the chair were folded impeccably, and at least two of them were T-shirts Ludwig recognized.

Roderich was gazing towards the table, where there was an extra chair. He caught Ludwig looking and turned away.

'What do you want to know?' he asked.

'Gilbert stays here a lot, doesn't he?' Feliciano asked. Roderich nodded. Ludwig couldn't blame his brother. This airy, bright apartment was worlds better than a house full of arguments.

'So when Gilbert leaves, he comes here?' Ludwig clarified. Another tight nod. 'Do you think it's going to be permanent?'

'Ludwig, I don't think-' Roderich protested, but Ludwig stood up.

'Is Gilbert going to run away?'

The musician's deep blue-purple eyes were faintly gleaming with tears.

'We want to,' he murmured. 'We've talked about it. Once he turns eighteen in a few months, he wants to move back to Europe. He said he would bring you if you wanted, but lately he's stopped saying…' Roderich trailed off, now looking at Feliciano. His gaze didn't pierce to the core like Gilbert's did, but Ludwig could feel the story being pieced together to fit into the narrative.

'I understand that now,' he said finally. Ludwig looked over and saw Feliciano half-absorbed in one of the bright paintings, the dusty sunlight catching in his auburn hair, and his heart soared for him. He knew that Gilbert was right about that, at least.

He managed to look away.

'Is Gilbert going to get hurt?' he asked.

Ludwig expected a lie. He didn't expect Roderich to look him in the eyes and say, 'He already has been.'

When Ludwig didn't respond, Roderich continued. 'I cannot protect him from everything. Your brother seeks out fights. All I can usually do is make sure he survives.' He paused, and a soft smile flickered across his face. 'I am in love with him. Deeply. And if all we can do is try to find our own lives, I would like to spend mine with him.'

Ludwig had nothing to say. He had envisioned something triumphant, something that would make everything perfect and understandable. However, real life was not always perfect.

Feliciano took his hand gently, twining their fingers together, and Ludwig thought that if life wasn't always perfect, this at least was.

'Is there anything else?' Roderich asked.

'No, I just...I'm worried about him,' Ludwig confessed. Roderich's hard, worried look softened slightly.

'Everyone is.'

'Thank you,' Feliciano said.

'Don't thank me.' Roderich stood up and rummaged in a drawer for something. He returned with an official-looking folder. 'Can you take this to him? Discreetly?'

'What is it?'

Roderich looked like he would refuse answering for a moment, but he shrugged, false carelessness hiding his pain. 'My medical test results.'

Francis picked them up from the apartment. He saw the folder and looked like he wanted to mention it, but closed his mouth and didn't. All he said was, 'Feliciano, I think I heard Antonio is back in town. Your brother might want to know.'

Feliciano stifled a smile and said he would tell him.

They were quiet the ride back to the house, but Feliciano held his hand. Lovino was waiting at the front door. He looked faintly flustered about something.

'You're back,' he said brusquely in greeting, and turned to go inside. Feliciano squinted at him.

'Lovi, you've got a bruise on your neck, what happened?'

Lovino's hand flew up to cover the small mark. 'I-I hit it on...the table.'

'Oh! Lovi, Francis said Antonio was back.'

'Yeah, I know,' Lovino said. He touched his bruise again, pulled up his collar, and disappeared inside the house. Ludwig thought he saw him try to hide a smile.

The folder was tucked in Ludwig's pocket, and he restlessly ran a hand over it. Feliciano waited until his grandfather had followed Lovino to turn to him.

'I'm sorry,' he said, and Ludwig just laughed tiredly. They weren't allowed to say what they wanted and do what was right in public, but he slid a hand into Feliciano's hair, aching to pull him closer.

'Don't be. It's not your fault, it's Gilbert's.'

Feliciano ran fingertips along his palm, then dangerously close to his mouth. 'I know. I know, but at least we know more now. And we have...confirmation about when Gilbert turns eighteen.'

The few months between now and the cold middle days of January hung heavy around them, making the slow heat seen false, an illusion.

'Ti amo,' Feliciano whispered, before he backed away. Ludwig let him go, knowing it was too dangerous to stand here any longer.

'Ich liebe dich,' he said back, and Feliciano smiled.

They left. Ludwig thought about giving the folder to Gilbert directly, but ended up leaving it under his flute case.

0o0o0o

If he'd known what Gilbert would do upon finding that folder, he would have directly confronted him. Ludwig woke up to curses and crying and thank god thank god repeated over and over. He was practiced enough to slip out of bed silently and peer through the door as Gilbert dialed a number over and over, hissing come on, Antonio, please. Finally, Antonio picked up, and he said only a few trembling words before he hung up and ran outside.

'I made a mistake.'

Ludwig gritted his teeth and knew he had to follow them, but that meant he had to stay hidden. Which meant the roof. There was no time to wake Feliciano, and he had to be brave. He had to ignore all the consequences right now and act, like Gilbert.

But as he balanced on the roof, the familiar terror rose up his throat, choking his thoughts. He dug his fingernails hard into his palms and demanded he be like Feliciano and fearless, and listened.

Gilbert was chainsmoking, the glowing ember at his fingertips the only constant. Ludwig heard Antonio before he saw him, the moonlight reflecting off his curls.

'Four fucking months,' Gilbert said in greeting, discreetly stubbing his current cigarette out on the brick. 'I blew it.'

'The money?' Antonio sounded furious. 'You said you had enough-'

'I did!' Gilbert swore and pulled another cigarette out of his pocket, messily lighting it and jamming it in his mouth. He was trembling. 'I did, I did, but I had to get a medical test.'

'No test supposed to cost that much, Gilbert!'

'Ivan charges more if he doesn't like you.'

'You went to Ivan?' Antonio asked, sounding horrified.

'Antonio, you have to understand.' Gilbert's voice cracked. 'They'll kick me out of the hall if I get myself tested at a real doctor's for that.'

'Gilbert.' No answer. 'Gilbert, tell me you aren't.'

'I am. I think I am. The test hasn't come back yet. Antonio, I think I have it.'

Ludwig looked down and would never forget the sheer terror in Antonio's eyes. It cut him down to the bone.

'Oh my God, Gilbert.' Antonio moved closer, pulling him into an embrace, and Gilbert wrapped his pale arms around him and clung tightly, burying his face in his shoulder. 'Oh my God-when did you find out? Who did you get it from?' His hands were shaking as he smoothed back Gilbert's hair. 'Not Roderich-'

'No, he's clean.' Gilbert looked up, red eyes glassy. 'He's paying the hall enough to ignore anything, but they'll go after me. They want him vulnerable, and I'm his weakness.'

Ludwig didn't understand enough, not from Francis' explanation of the disease, but something about it terrified him in a way not even heights did. 'He tested clean. I got it at that damn party-fuck, god fuck it all!' He pulled out his cigarette and screwed the end into his palm suddenly. Antonio tore his hand away with a strangled groan. Gilbert collapsed into a curled crouch on the ground.

'We had something there, Roderich and me and some guy I can't even remember the damn name of-'

'Gilbert!'

'And when he came back clean I thought I was too, but my test isn't back and if I hadn't gotten so drunk, if I had thought for one goddamn second, this is my fault, this is all my fucking fault, what if Roderich had got it too-'

'Gilbert, listen to me!'

'I deserve it,' he said suddenly, calm, breathing hard, eyes wild. Ludwig swayed where he stood. He was going to be sick.

'Never say that again,' Antonio said shakily. 'You know you don't. How can you even say that?'

'They say it's God's revenge. That we deserve it.' Gilbert dropped his head to his chest, and Ludwig barely caught his final words. 'I'm scared. I don't want to die. What if it comes back positive?'

'It won't.'

'What am I supposed to tell Roderich?' And even quieter, a sob catching in his voice. 'What am I going to tell Ludwig?'

0o0o0o

Gilbert is an interesting character who really does play by his own rules.

:: The few minutes of almost dreaming when you wake up too early