It's always good to hope.

0o0o0o

Life in Italy was good-not wonderful, but good. It would be better if the sky didn't keep reminding Feliciano of what he'd left behind. It would be better if he hadn't obeyed Lovino's veiled warning not to write, to let everyone live their own lives, to not endanger them with the vulnerable words in letters. Feliciano knew he was right, and he'd written himself that Ludwig shouldn't be sad on his account, but it still felt like a betrayal of sorts.

Lovino's sharp edges had softened in Europe, and since he remembered better than Feliciano did what life used to be like in Europe and was an adult now, sometimes they were allowed to go out and around when he wasn't working. Feliciano knew Lovino still missed Antonio sometimes, and that he only kept with the girls he found for days or weeks, but Nonna didn't say as much as Feliciano's grandfather used to. There were fewer broadcasts about the protests here, and even less in the papers until Feliciano found the publications that did. It was exhilarating to know that there was the same hidden current in people here, that Feliciano could look at people in the street and know that at least some of them must be like him.

'Thank you,' Feliciano said emphatically as the young boy he'd begun to know with dark eyes and hair pulled back into a ponytail handed him the magazine.

'Yeah, don't worry. Listen, Feli, if you or Lovino ever need anything, there's people around, right?'

'Like what?' Feliciano asked curiously.

He shrugged modestly. 'I can dye hair. Or I can help your brother to fix that old car.'

'Really?'

'People have to stick together.' He stood up and checked his watch. 'I have to be home in twenty minutes or my old man's gonna flip on me. But...Feli, you said you used to live around Houston?' His voice was oddly casual.

'Yes, why?'

'You ever meet a kid there? Pale as the moon, white hair-before you say, I don't mean Gilbert Beilschmidt,' he said, wincing. 'Pale purple eyes, wore a scarf. His name is Emil, and his older brother is Lukas-'

'I know Lukas!' Feliciano exclaimed. 'It I think I do, he looks the same. I met him once, with Mathias, at one of those club things Feliks brought me to. I don't know Emil, though.'

The boy still looked pleased. 'I'm supposed to be over in Houston. I will be next month, when Yao gives custody back to the Kirklands. Mathias taught me how to fix a car.'

'How do you know Gilbert?' Feliciano wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

The boy went quiet, studying him. 'Everybody knows Gilbert,' he said finally. 'His musician's money is barely keeping him out of the papers. I feel sorry for his brother.'

This-just the mention of Ludwig made Feliciano's old, careful barriers break.

'Is there any news about him? Gilbert's brother,' he said, in a rush, his hope and fear and longing all tangled up in a constant knot behind his ribs, ready to snap.

'No.' The boy opened his mouth as if to say something and didn't. 'I'm sorry.'

'It's fine,' Feliciano said, even though it wasn't. He made himself smile, which was easier now that he'd practiced, for his brother and his grandmother and the girls he loved but who weren't the same, and adjusted his cap. 'Can you help me with the car?'

0o0o0o

Feliciano thought he'd gotten fairly good at working on machines, but he preferred to draw the gears and belts in his sketchbooks. It reminded him of Gilbert, which made him think of Ludwig. The boy, who said to call him Leon, promised to tell him if he heard anything about Gilbert's brother. Feliciano told Leon not to tell him about Gilbert. He didn't want to know.

Lovino had been talking more and more in private with Nonna, and Feliciano let them be. He didn't want to know if there was another secret like his grandfather's sickness. It was-like with Gilbert-easier to not know.

Lovino came into his room one day when Feliciano was drawing Ludwig, and he instinctively flipped it closed. Lovino was too distracted to notice. He made straight for him and stood almost nervously, hands clenching and unclenching.

'Feliciano, do you miss America?' he asked immediately. Feliciano's heart stuttered-the thought of those few years, of Ludwig-it was too much.

'I-I do, I liked the people and the hugeness of the cities, but I like it here, too. I know you miss...things, too.'

Lovino eyed him briefly, maybe weighing the way the name Antonio had almost slipped off his tongue, but just nodded, decidedly.

Feliciano jumped up, heart in his throat and at the tip of his fingers.

'Are we going back?' he asked, almost unwilling to hear. If they weren't, it would be more disappointment, but if they were-oh, if they were going back…

'Not Nonna. Just you and me. Maybe.' Lovino's eyes were gleaming with a kind of frantic excitement, and Feliciano was drifting, unable to believe, wanting so desperately for this dream to be true. 'I've been asking, since I'm an adult now.'

Feliciano took a deep breath and dug into both his courage and his memories. 'Do you think-think people we knew are still there?'

'I think so,' Lovino said. 'I know some are. I've been writing to Francis and all, and he says he can find us a place to live for a while, but-' He paused, trying to gauge Feliciano's reaction. 'It's not forever, okay? But I thought you might-'

Feliciano leapt up before he could finish and embraced him, and Lovino staggered, but hugged him back. Feliciano knew his words of gratitude were slurred with emotion, the wonderful rushing happiness chasing away any trace of heaviness, and Lovino held him tightly.

'It's not all confirmed yet,' he said when they released with a slight smile. 'But it will be, don't worry. After all, you're almost eighteen, and it's time for you to see the world again.'

When Lovino left, Feliciano twirled around his bedroom, the sunlight dancing on his eyelids, and laughed like he hadn't for too long, until his throat was sore and he collapsed on his bed, staring at the ceiling and pressing his hands to his face, unable to stop smiling. They were going back. Back to America, which meant gold and blue skies and Ludwig, wonderful, incredible Ludwig with his sky-blue eyes and God, Feliciano hadn't been lying when he said he had already started to miss him. Even if it was not now, he could wait, he could wait. If the past years had been an ache of memory, it was now nearly a pain.

Waiting made him reckless. Feliciano snuck away two weeks later and got Leon to dye his hair gold. Lovino saw him and nearly smiled.

0o0o0o

Gilbert always made efforts to keep quiet now, but one bright Saturday morning he burst into the dining room, just as loud and brash and wonderful as he used to be, and turned to Ludwig. His eyes flared with the fire he had kept hidden for his months back, and Ludwig-woke up, was the only way to put it, like he'd been jerked out of a daze. His firebrand brother was back.

'You need to go downtown.' He didn't even look at Vati as he pushed Ludwig out of his chair. 'I'll drive you.'

'What happened?' Ludwig asked, managing to grab his black jacket as they ran out the door.

'You'll know when you get there, I promise.' He kicked the engine into gear, growling the same rough noise as it faulted and turned over.

'Is it one of the parades?' Ludwig asked quietly. Gilbert momentarily froze, but shook it off. They hadn't spoken much about those things ever since he'd come back.

'No. You'll like it better.'

Gilbert could be stubborn when he wanted. Ludwig settled back in the passenger seat and wondered what was happening. Gilbert always drove like a madman, and his hair was tangled by the wind.

He stopped outside the art store. His face was unreadable.

'Go,' he said, and Ludwig thought he heard a quaver in his voice, but Gilbert drove off before he could make sure it wasn't just maniac light in his eyes.

He pushed open the door. Francis was talking to a slightly older boy who looked so much like Alfred that Ludwig had to look again. When he saw Ludwig, he abruptly stopped, muttered a final word to the boy, and nearly ran to him.

Ludwig took an involuntary step back. Francis' eyes were glassy bright.

'You heard?' he said, voice a low, breathless question. 'I didn't think he'd ever be back-but he must be eighteen now.'

'Who?' Ludwig asked, more than slightly frustrated. Francis glanced at the door and laughed.

'Gilbert didn't tell you? Feliciano is back.'

Feliciano, Feliciano Vargas was back-

He was falling and soaring and all sound was gone. The words were a weight of gold eyes and soft voice knocking his careful heart wide open and this is what it had felt like looking at him, back when he was still allowed to love freely-like he was everything.

Ludwig hadn't been allowed to think of Feliciano coming back, because it would only be disappointing. His dreams were already too much. This-this shattered the world all over again, but not like Gilbert had. Feliciano was everything his brother was not, and he was what had been truly missing from Ludwig's world. He didn't need someone to tell him how the world should work, he needed someone who made it understandable.

He grabbed Francis' shoulders. His voice was choked, but he did not care.

'Where is he?'

'There's a bike shop around the corner,' Francis said. 'I-I'll let you see him by yourself.'

Ludwig turned and ran.

0o0o0o

The bike shop was dark inside, streaked with shafts of dusty sunlight. Ludwig blinked into the darkness, wondering how Feliciano had grown, if-if he'd forgotten him-

Feliciano was suddenly in front of him, golden eyes bright in the darkness, his hair shining like a halo, his arms full of books, and Ludwig's heart sang, the same way it had three years ago. Feliciano was still the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

Feliciano dropped his books with a crash and before Ludwig could think, there was weight and warmth in his arms and a heartbeat fluttering against his and his name said like it was an answer and a prayer in the voice he'd dreamed about, and his chest was burning-his chest cavity was not a huge dark space, it was full of gold bright sunlight and the warmth of. liquid courage and everything, everything was right again.

'Ludwig, you're here,' Feliciano gasped, eyes shining, and Ludwig reached forward and slid his hand into his metallic gold-dyed curls, wanting-God, wanting-to pull him even closer, but he wouldn't. Not in front of other people.

'You came back,' he said.

'It's not forever, Lovino said, but-it doesn't matter, Ludwig, I was so scared you'd have moved or-or forgotten me.'

'I wouldn't have forgotten you,' Ludwig promised. Feliciano smiled, and his chest still went tight.

'I didn't forget you, either.'

'I'm glad,' Ludwig said, because he couldn't describe the weight that had lifted off his chest at those words. Feliciano hadn't forgotten him.

There was a clatter from the side door and they stepped apart, Feliciano's hands lingering on his shoulders. Mathias looked out at them.

'Feliciano, what are you-' He broke off abruptly, staring at Ludwig. After a long second, his mouth curled into a broad smile and he ducked back inside his shop.

Now that they were standing apart, Ludwig realized how they'd grown. Feliciano had grown out into long runner's limbs and faint muscles, and paint and motor oil stained his hands. His hair was obviously dyed, and he looked good with it in a way Ludwig had never seen. When he looked up, Feliciano-Ludwig's stomach twisted in a way that wasn't bad in the slightest-was looking at him not in the way boys were supposed to look at girls, or girls at boys, but in the way Feliciano had always looked at him, artistry and adoration as one, eyes lingering on the lines he fell together in. Ludwig knew he'd gotten taller from the mirror and Gilbert's remarks, but it was only when Feliciano stared at him, eyes taking so much longer to roam up and down his body that he realized and for the first time, felt self-conscious about how he'd changed, but he also liked it in a way.

'You have your hair back,' Feliciano said, stopping his thoughts, and almost reverently reached out, but didn't touch until Ludwig nodded.

'It kept it neater,' he said.

'You look good,' Feliciano said, and slow heat unfurled in Ludwig's stomach, warming up to his throat.

'You look good, too. I like your hair.'

'I can help you dye yours, if you want,' Feliciano offered. Ludwig wanted to suddenly, tasting the temptation on his tongue, the hot thrill of rebellion. He could almost understand why Gilbert used to do it.

'Maybe,' he said. 'I-I want to, I think.'

'I can wait,' Feliciano promised. He glanced back at the door and smiled. 'Mathias is busy, do you want to walk around town?'

'Of course,' Ludwig agreed almost instantly, and knew he turned red. Feliciano didn't laugh, though. He gazed up at him and looked away with an effort, hiding his own secret smile.

As they began to walk, Ludwig had the urge to take Feliciano's hand. He pushed it away. Even when they had their thing, it was never in public. For all he knew, Feliciano had a girlfriend back in Italy.

Something sour filled his mouth at the thought, and he forced himself to leave the subject alone. It was no business of his what Feliciano did with his life. He didn't have exclusive rights, and it would be better for him if he wasn't like him-like that. Even if they wouldn't know the way his mouth quirked when he laughed and the way he smiled when he was delighted and the hoarse plead of his voice after he'd been kissed near senseless; nobody else knew any of that-

'How have you been?' Ludwig asked, to stop himself digging fingernails through his palms.

'It has been a while,' Feliciano said with a self-conscious chuckle. 'I met my grandmother. She's nice, and I was named after her, and she likes art. I met some people over there, too, Ludwig, did you know that there's a whole community of people who-there's a lot of communities of people there,' he corrected himself.

'You can say it,' Ludwig invited, but his voice didn't tell the knot of anticipation and worry in his throat. He wanted to hear it, the reassurance that Feliciano hadn't changed.

He had, though, Ludwig realized with a lurch. He'd hidden that side of him so deep he didn't know if he could let it breathe.

'People who are like that,' Feliciano said carefully, looking up at him. His bronzed curls shone like a second sun. Ludwig wanted to ask him, but if Feliciano was happy-and why wouldn't he be, if he wouldn't get hurt for who he loved?-he would not ruin that by implying what they used to be.

Ludwig had tried to keep a hold on his heart for three years, but even if it was waking up again now and jumping at every mention and memory of how they used to be, Ludwig forced himself back under control and turned away. He would say things he would regret if he kept having those eyes on his.

'Are you working in the bike shop?' he asked, and he could feel Feliciano slump slightly beside him, just as waiting, but he would not break this. Not when Feliciano was finally back.

'Mathias is letting me stay in the room above the shop,' Feliciano explained. 'I have another job in the art shop, but Antonio has the extra room there.'

'You fix engines?' Ludwig asked, impressed.

'I can fix only a few kinds of engine,' Feliciano corrected. 'It's the ones in my and my friend's car in Europe. I design posters and I guess I'm learning to dye hair.'

Feliciano stopped suddenly, and Ludwig realized they had ended up in front of the magazine store. Feliciano looked at him and Ludwig followed him beside it, in the shade of the windows. Instead of looking in to see older brothers wearing coats with secret pockets, they just drew to the back of the walls and stood close. Feliciano sighed against the crook of his shoulder, mouthing almost at his skin. Ludwig could feel his heart like a hummingbird, and the tension that wanted to shudder out of him at the emotions, that Feliciano was here and with him. It was too easy to slip back into their old rhythms, as if the years and distance disappeared.

'I still can't believe all of this,' Feliciano said suddenly. 'It's amazing. You're amazing.'

'People say I've changed,' Ludwig told him. He didn't want to lead Feliciano into thinking he hadn't.

Feliciano tilted his head and the metallic gold reflected light like a firework show.

'We all have,' he said. 'But we cannot change our hearts, Ludwig, and I know yours.' He pressed a hand against his chest, and both their breaths caught.

Ludwig was still in love. He knew he was, but he would keep it quiet. Three years later and he still did not want to hurt Feliciano, and if this was what he had to do-keep his dove-heart wrapped under neat perfection-he would.

0o0o0o

Hopefully it will be better from now on.

:: Watching an artist's works grow as they do