"I'm going to stay with you for a while," Lovino said as he rummaged through his drawers, throwing clothes into his suitcase. "The doctors may say you're fine, but I'll reserve judgment for myself."

He briskly entered his bathroom, collecting various toiletries and dumping them in his suitcase that lay open on his bed. Feliciano sat next to it, watching Lovino silently.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay here, with me?"

Feliciano chewed on his lip, nodding without meeting Lovino's gaze.

Lovino made a short grunt in the back of his throat. "It's probably better to keep you around familiar surroundings anyway. Not that my place is unfamiliar," he mumbled to himself while packing. "You're here as much as you are there."

Lovino made one last sweep around his apartment, unplugging appliances and electronics, locking the windows. He heaved his wheeled suitcase to the floor.

"Alright, Feliciano. Let's go."

Lovino had to swing his head around more than once to make sure his brother was following him. Feliciano had been silent all day, ever since his brain scans, ever since he'd been discharged with orders to rest and practice his Italian.

For he was still speaking German, his Italian still locked away. However there was one positive Lovino had discovered after fetching breakfast from the cafeteria. Feliciano was now able to understand Italian. Not completely, but it was a stride forward. At least he'd know what Lovino was saying, despite replying in that language that grated at his ears.

Lovino got them a cab and gave the driver Feliciano's address. With his suitcase in the trunk and Feliciano next to him in the back seat, Lovino turned to him.

His brother had been eerily quiet all day. They'd shared a brief moment of celebration when they'd discovered Feliciano's ability to understand him, but shortly after he'd become withdrawn. Suddenly, he didn't want to reply to any of Lovino's questions and sometimes he chose not to speak at all. That probably unnerved Lovino more than the German coming out of his mouth. A Feliciano that didn't talk… it was unheard of, worrying, and scary, if he were being honest. On top of his silence, Feliciano wouldn't make eye contact, there was a seemingly permanent sad furrow to his brows, and he held himself listlessly. All of these were completely unnatural for Feliciano, and Lovino was more than just a little worried.

Feliciano's apartment was on the sixth floor, and when they arrived at his door Lovino had to snap him back to attention to ask for the keys.

Wordlessly, Feliciano unlocked his apartment and stepped slowly inside. He went through the motions like a cross was bearing down on his back; flicking the lights on, shifting old mail around the countertop, finally settling himself on the sofa.

Lovino ignored him for the time being, instead bringing his suitcase into Feliciano's spare room, unpacking, pulling curtains aside, mindlessly straightening up anything remotely askew as he made his way back out into the living room. He saw Feliciano on the sofa, hands between his knees, chewing on his lip in deep thought. He sighed heavily.

Lovino had planned to have his own pity party, but because of the state Feliciano was in someone needed to keep the little dolt moving. And it looked like it was going to be him.

He took a seat on the sofa, facing Feliciano, noticing how he didn't look his way or even away from his lap.

"Alright, Feli," he said. "What's the matter?"

His brother's big, sad eyes glanced up at him, acknowledgement that he understood him. He just wasn't about to answer with words.

Feliciano shrugged and Lovino heaved another sigh.

"Speak," he said. When it was evident that Feliciano would not, Lovino asked, "You can still understand me, right?"

Feliciano swallowed and quietly replied, "Ja. Um… yes." He had been practicing quick responses in Italian, as opposed to German.

"Then what's the problem?"

Feliciano began wringing his hands. It was only when he started absently scratching at his hands that Lovino separated them.

"Stop doing that. You'll hurt yourself."

He let go when he was sure that Feliciano would stop. He tried again, "What's got you like this, Feli?"

"Es tut– erm. I am sorry," he said weakly. He took out his phone, typed something into a translator, and showed it to Lovino.

It's just difficult, was what he said.

Lovino was sure that a simple sentence like that wasn't hard, especially after all their practice with the magazines the previous day. He told Feliciano to try his best to use Italian, even if it wasn't totally right, but he didn't expect him to completely clam up just because it was difficult.

Even so, Lovino's own heart fell. After all, Feliciano wouldn't have this difficulty, he wouldn't be so miserable if Lovino hadn't… done this to him.

He schooled his expression. Feliciano didn't need Lovino's issues on his shoulders. To hide his burning eyes, Lovino pulled Feli against him.

His brother's head fell naturally onto his shoulder, Lovino's arm coming around him.

"It's okay, Feli," he said. "Don't give up."

"I'm sorry, Lovi. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

It was Lovino who was sorry.

"Stop it," he mumbled, but it was without his usual chagrin.

Feliciano rest against him for a while longer, and Lovino let him. It was the least he could do for him at the moment.

When the light on the walls grew dimmer, the shadows announcing sundown, Lovino stirred.

Feliciano sat up and wiped his eyes. Lovino stood, giving him time to do so.

"You don't have much food. I'm going to the store to get dinner supplies. Do you want to come?"

Feliciano shook his head, but put on a weak smile, a shadow of his normal brightness. I'll be okay.

"Fine. Text me if you need anything."

Lovino closed the front door behind him and took a deep breath.

He glowered when one man interrupted his thoughts. That man, Ludwig Beilschmidt.

Feliciano was so happy talking to him. Chattering on in that grating German. Ludwig barely hesitated to give him his phone number. Oh, he probably thought he'd… befriended an easy stranger. No way, not Lovino's brother.

So far Feliciano had not expressed intent to contact Ludwig and Lovino wondered if he even remembered.

It was just as well. Lovino told that German that he wasn't needed. Feliciano would get better, he knew it. But an infuriating, niggling inkling told him that perhaps Ludwig could help his brother in a way he couldn't. And that made his jaw twitch in annoyance.

Lovino ultimately decided that he would contact Ludwig only as a last resort. Only.

After Lovino left for the store, Feliciano slowly withdrew his phone and scrolled through his contacts, finding Ludwig's name. His thumb hovered over the call button.

He promised Ludwig he'd repay him, and he intended to. Feliciano turned the screen off. He'd call Ludwig when he wasn't so unsure of himself.

It wasn't that he had a hard time speaking – he could still speak German with near perfect fluency and if he really practiced he could recite a few lines of Italian.

Feliciano was so anxious because he wasn't so sure what to say anymore. Lovino didn't understand a lick of German, and Feliciano didn't want to sour him with his extremely sub-par Italian. Lovino was never a patient person and he was already putting so much blame on himself.

It was obvious, even through the slight haze Feliciano had been in all day. It was also partly the cause of his haze.

When Lovino hugged him, it was such a comforting, nostalgic gesture. Feliciano would admit that he was more outwardly sensitive, and Lovino had always been the one to make him feel better. When he was having a rough time in school, when they lost their parents, through his breakups, Lovino would gripe and grumble, but he'd always give him his shoulder. Sometimes Feliciano was ignorant to his brother's troubles, yes, but he didn't want to be this time.

Even when he knew what was bothering him – that Lovino blamed himself, though only Lord knew why – Feliciano just wasn't used to being the comforter. So when he thought of the words, his mouth refused to open, fearing they'd be wrong. When the German that felt so natural was ready at the tip of his tongue he held it back, not wanting to upset Lovino. When Lovino told him to try Italian, he rarely followed through, not wanting to feel inadequate.

For three days he tried. He'd work himself up, repeating easy sentences over and over in his mind, but ultimately getting cold feet and backing out. Lovino remained patient with him, but it made Feliciano even more nervous.

For those three days Feliciano threw himself into cooking, baking. After the first day, he could sit idle no more. It was a good way to relearn words and phrases he found important – words related to food. When Lovino was out he read the cookbooks aloud, frowning when he felt his mind was no closer to recovering Italian than before. When Lovino returned, he fell silent again, speaking sparsely.

Instead, Feliciano forced himself to smile.

Ludwig had left his office for the day. It was Friday, the weekend at last. He wanted a beer and for Gilbert to be out of his apartment that night.

What Ludwig was not expecting, on the subway so close to his stop, was a call from an unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Beilschmidt," came an angry-sounding voice. "It's Lovino Vargas. From the hospital."

Ludwig groaned inwardly. "How did you get my number?"

"I got it from Feliciano's phone, where else?"

At the mention of Feliciano, Ludwig felt an odd twist in his stomach. He hadn't called him in days. Ludwig just assumed that he hadn't needed his help after all.

"Listen," Lovino said, harshly. "My brother hasn't been himself in days. He doesn't talk, he barely smiles and when he does we both know they're fake. He can understand me now but he's so hesitant to speak that he won't speak at all. You don't know him like I do, so believe me when I say that this is all very unlike him. Frankly, it's scaring me and… shit," he breathed. "I don't know what to do."

Ludwig had prepared himself for a rant at his expense, but wasn't prepared for Lovino's genuine concern. "Is still speaking German?"

"Yes. I know he understands me, but as for himself, it's still not clicking. Has he called you at all in the past few days?"

No he had not, and Ludwig told him as much. Ludwig wasn't disappointed, per se, but he had secretly been hoping to hear of some word.

"I need you to help me."

Smugness had him testing Lovino. "You made it pretty clear that you didn't want my help."

"And I just told you that I don't know what to do anymore!" Lovino paused, and Ludwig gave him time. "You need to see him. Get him back on track, or something, I don't know. Just… please, Ludwig."

His brother, Gilbert, joked that Ludwig was stone, immovable and unfazed. He was sure he'd meant it in a good way, but Ludwig often had wondered if those traits worked against him. He liked to think he was just practical. He helped people, if the cause was logical and a solution reachable. Certainly he felt for people, but his practicality stepped in to pick his battles, so to speak. Feliciano seemed a cause with an unforeseeable resolution.

Sure, he was nice enough in the hospital, Ludwig had gathered that much. Ludwig had even thought about him after he was already home, and if that was any indication that Feliciano was worth it, then Ludwig could leave practicality at the doorstep for the moment and at least see what the matter was.

"Okay. I'll help."

"Great. Here's Feliciano's address. He hasn't left the place in days, so he's most likely home cooking something or other."

Ludwig committed the address to memory, exchanged goodbyes with Lovino, and sighed. He stepped back into the metro and retraced his trip by a few stops.

The apartment building was of older architecture than his modern-styled building. But on entering it was obvious that in this case, older meant grander. Ludwig rode the elevator up to the sixth floor and paused in front of Feliciano's door.

Here goes nothing.

Ludwig rang the buzzer and waited. A minute passed before the door slowly cracked open. He saw a topaz eye glittering back at him.

Feliciano opened the door the rest of the way in awe. Slowly, a smile lifted the corners of his lips. Ludwig would venture to say that this smile was nothing fake, like Lovino had described. Ludwig felt his own lips twitch in response.

"Ludwig! What are you doing here? How–"

"Lovino called me."

Quick as a flash, his smile dropped and he looked uneasy. "Oh. He must have told you then…"

"He told me some things, yes."

Feliciano started chewing on his lip, but he attempted brightness when he said, "Come in, come in. I was just… baking."

"What were you baking?"

Feliciano fidgeted with some sofa cushions, clearing away bits of clutter. "I made tiramisu. It's mine and Lovino's favorite." He gestured for Ludwig to take a seat as he bustled aimlessly about the kitchen. "Would you like anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No thanks." Ludwig studied him a minute. Feliciano was fiddling with his fingers, that unsure smile on his face. Looks like he'd have to be the one to initiate this. "Would you care to come out with me though? We can talk at a café."

There was an almost imperceptible widening of his eyes. "Ah, sure," he laughed nervously.

"You're afraid to go outside, aren't you?"

Sitting across from each other on the sofa, Feliciano's shoulders curved in and he slipped his hands between his knees. He was making himself smaller than he already was.

"Lovino told me you can understand Italian now, is that right?"

"Yes."

"That's great progress."

"But Ludwig I–" he paused.

Ludwig stood from the sofa and faced Feliciano, extending a hand. "Come on. Let's get coffee." On seeing Feliciano's doubt, he added, "You don't have to say anything. I'll do the talking."

Feliciano finally nodded, letting Ludwig haul him up. He was so timid right now, it was such a change from when he was confined to a hospital bed.

Once on the street, Ludwig glanced down at him and took some time to notice. Feliciano was a slim-framed man, not particularly lean-muscled but not too slight either. He and Lovino sure looked alike, though his eyes were darker and his hair was more auburn than Lovino's dark brown. They may have had slight differences in appearance, but in personality they were complete opposites.

"So," Ludwig began. "What cafés are good around here? I don't come to this neighborhood often."

"Oh. My favorite is a couple blocks this way."

Ludwig inclined his head for Feliciano to lead on.

As they walked, Feliciano twisted his fingers in the cuffs of his sleeves and Ludwig found it distracting to the point where the thought to grab his hand just to get him to stop flashed through his mind. And then Ludwig realized he was staring at Feliciano's hands and he coughed, quickly averting his gaze.

Feliciano led him to the café and the nerves radiating off him were palpable.

"What would you like?" Ludwig asked him in line.

"Cappuccino, please."

Ludwig nodded and gave their order to the barista, in Italian.

"Um, Ludwig," Feliciano said quietly. "I'll go find a table."

"Alright."

He watched Feliciano weave his way around customers and tables, looking like a kicked puppy in a den of wolves.

Ludwig sighed. He turned back to the barista and added, "A slice of cake, too, please."

Feliciano was beginning to think that being totally unable to understand Italian was less scary than hearing it everywhere, unable to form even a sentence himself. With the former, he could at least tune out the unintelligible gibberish. Nobody expected him to reply, then. In the case of the latter, he knew what people were saying but then worried that someone would expect a reply from him.

He'd found a corner table and sat with his back to the wall, watching Ludwig at the counter. Seeing him from afar, Feliciano could see the university professor in him. Confident stance, professional air, he seemed very knowledgeable. Feliciano wondered if he'd come to his apartment from the university. After all, Ludwig was wearing a tailored suit, nice shoes, and an inconspicuous black leather bag over his shoulder. He looked so good, Feliciano wrinkled his nose at his own state of dress.

Perhaps if his mind were functioning apart from Ludwig asked me out for coffee then he would have thought to change into a nicer cardigan at least. He was currently wearing his oversized, gelato-at-noon-butt-on-sofa cardigan. His t-shirt may or may not have been slightly wrinkled, he didn't even want to check. Needless to say, he was not expecting a foray into the world that day.

Ludwig finally approached the table, bearing two cups in one hand and a plate of cake in the other. Feliciano sat a little straighter.

Ludwig pushed the plate across the table to him. It was chocolate. "You look like you could use it," Ludwig said in way of an explanation.

Feliciano smiled. "You didn't have to, Ludwig." He belatedly realized Ludwig had bought their drinks, and the cake. He pouted in mock disappointment. "I'm supposed to repay you, you know."

Ludwig sat back in his chair, tapping his fingers against his cup. "This time doesn't count."

Feliciano felt his insides flutter. This time. This time.

"So," Ludwig started, sipping his drink. "Do you work?"

He was a little surprised, he thought Ludwig was going to plunge right in. Feliciano pulled himself up, feeling more at ease.

"Yes, I work for Grandpa. Lovino and I both do. Grandpa has his own restaurants in Rome and Naples, called Vargas, have you heard of it?"

"I believe so, though I haven't been."

Feliciano smiled at the possibility of bringing him to their restaurant. "You should come sometime! Lovino and I help manage here in Rome, obviously. Lovino's had to do a lot of the work by himself though, since I was… well, in the hospital. And now…"

"I would like that, thank you."

Ludwig was an interesting person, Feliciano mused. He could accept an invitation to his family's restaurant all with a schooled, casual nonchalance, yet still make Feliciano bloom with happiness and hope. It had to do with his eyes, he noted again. His facial features may have appeared impassive, but his eyes seemed gently pleased.

"Can I ask a question, Ludwig?"

"Yes?"

"At the hospital, I just assumed that Italian was your second language. Did you live in Germany before?"

Ludwig blinked, as if he weren't expecting the conversation to turn to him. "I did. With my brother, Gilbert."

"Your brother! How is he?"

"He's fine. As fine as he'll ever be," he said under his breath in the familiar way of siblings. "He's down here visiting right now."

Feliciano couldn't help it when he laughed lightly at the thought of Ludwig with his brother.

Ludwig tilted his head. "What is it?"

He was still grinning when he said, "Oh, nothing. What's Gilbert like?"

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "He's loud and a pain in the ass, especially when he drinks too much."

Feliciano giggled. "That sounds like me." Ludwig raised an eyebrow, confused. "At least, that's what Lovino says. Minus the getting drunk part. Though there were a couple times," he trailed off, reflective. "Lovino has told me that I get really affectionate. Well, more than I usually am, at least."

Was Feliciano imagining the flushed tint to Ludwig's ears? He stifled a smile at his expense. It sure was endearing though.

"How long have you been teaching at the university?"

Ludwig cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "Ah, just over a year."

"So you must have only been here that long, right?" Feliciano confirmed. "There must be a lot of the city you still have to see! I would love to show you around."

Feliciano hadn't even thought of his anxiousness in going out for this simple conversation over coffee. He'd been a nervous wreck, worried that at any moment someone was going to expect him to talk to them, worried that at any moment his brain would falter and the buzzing around him would return to gibberish noise, though that seemed implausible now. Feliciano's ability to understand, as well as his memory, was getting better every day. He hoped it wouldn't be long until his Italian came back.

So it surprised him, in a distracted way, that he was so eager to explore the town with Ludwig. His musings were distracted because of the man sitting in front of him. Feliciano had to pay attention to Ludwig, otherwise he'd miss all the little signs and details – details he didn't want to miss. Like how he seemed to become bashful when talking about himself, how his lips twitched when Feliciano said something amusing, and how his eyes softened when Feliciano was speaking. Feliciano saw them all, and it made the hope in his chest bloom more and more with each passing moment.

He noticed the café becoming less populated as time went on, and an idea popped into his head.

"Ludwig, would you like to come over? I told Lovino I would cook tonight," he said. It was a flimsy excuse for him, because Feliciano cooked almost every night, but Ludwig didn't have to know the finer details. "I was thinking of making something from Grandpa's menu. You could get a taste of what we serve."

Feliciano's heart beat expectantly as he waited for Ludwig to reply. He wanted nothing more than to spend a couple more hours with him.

"Sure."

Feliciano grinned.

Ludwig did not expect to be cooking alongside Feliciano that night, though he found himself more often sweeping and wiping up his small messes in between his own few culinary tasks. He didn't mind the tedium that came with keeping an eye out for Feliciano's less than tidy hand, a cloth at the ready to clean up whatever spill he made.

No, what he did mind was the fact that he… sort of enjoyed it. It perplexed him, because for him cooking was practical. He needed to make the food to eat the food, while making as little mess as possible. Gilbert rarely cooked, but when he did it left Ludwig more stressed than grateful.

Feliciano was content, humming tunes and flitting from counter to stove, a soft smile on his face all the while.

It hadn't escaped Ludwig's notice that ever since their conversation at the café began, he hadn't stopped smiling. Ludwig knew the subject of his language anxiety needed to come up, but every time Feliciano smiled he couldn't bring himself to dampen his mood. He liked Feliciano's smiles.

"Have you ever cooked anything like this, Ludwig?"

He was glad Feliciano's eyes were on the food, because he was staring.

"Um, I can't say that I have."

"I haven't cooked for anyone in a long time."

"Don't you cook for Lovino?"

"That doesn't count." Feliciano tilted his head to the side in thought. "Hmm. My last boyfriend liked my cooking," he said, glancing up at Ludwig. "But that was about it."

"Gilbert doesn't cook. I try to keep him out of the kitchen, actually."

Feliciano laughed. "What about you? Do you cook?"

"Sometimes. I–" the words were coming out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I bake, more often."

Feliciano lit up. "Really? I like them equally but there's just something more fun about baking."

Ludwig scratched his ear, mumbling some agreement.

At that moment, the front door opened and Lovino entered, noisily dropping his bags and kicking his shoes off.

Ludwig watched in rapt curiosity – and ultimately in concern – at what unfolded next.

Lovino called out a neutral, "I'm home."

Feliciano lifted his face from the food cooking on the stove and swung around, grinning. "Lovi!" he exclaimed. "Welcome back. I'm making one of Grandpa's dishes. I invited Ludwig to join us. He's never been to the restaurant but–"

Like a flash of lightning over his face, he stopped talking, eyes averting from Lovino's stunned expression. He idly wiped his hands on the dishcloth.

"Mi– mi dispiace, Lovi," he mumbled.

Ludwig caught Lovino's eye. He sent him a silent warning.

Lovino shook his head. "No, Feli, it's fine."

Ludwig decided that some translation might have been of use. "He said 'welcome back.' He's making something from your restaurant."

"I see," he replied, giving Ludwig that familiar critical eye. "You know about our restaurant, then."

Ludwig nodded, unperturbed by Lovino's shrewdness. "We went out for coffee, and had a nice conversation."

Feliciano flashed him a small, grateful smile.

He was trying to stay bright throughout dinner. Lovino was obviously a little skeptical of Ludwig, but Ludwig paid him no heed. He quietly encouraged Feliciano, in German, to speak in whatever language he wanted. Ludwig dutifully translated any German, and implored Lovino, with a steely eye, to reciprocate.

As far as less than comfortable dinners went, this one wasn't so bad. Lovino had mellowed out after a glass of wine and Feliciano had gained confidence in speaking.

He was preparing to leave, and he noticed Feliciano fiddling with his hands again.

Feliciano walked him to the door. "Thank you, Ludwig, for spending the day with me."

"It was no problem," he replied, finding that he also rather enjoyed the day. "Thank you for dinner."

Feliciano smiled. "You're welcome, but this didn't count."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I was going to make dinner anyway, and I always make more than Lovino and I can eat. So," he drawled, his lips twisting up into a smirk. "Consider the debt still unpaid."

Oh, he meant repaying Ludwig for his hospital services. "Ah, very well then."

"Would you… like to go out again soon? I can show you some places around the city you haven't seen."

Ludwig thought that that was actually a nice idea. He hadn't taken the time to sightsee in months. And the historical sights around town had some interesting information attached to them. "That sounds good."

"Great!" Feliciano clapped his hands together. "Um, ciao, Ludwig!"

Ludwig nodded. "Ciao, Feliciano."

Feliciano was so happy he could burst. He made sure Ludwig was in the elevator at the end of the hall before closing the door behind him with an unabashedly ecstatic smile on his face. He was going out again with Ludwig.

Lovino came out of his bedroom, seeing Feliciano by the door, and his eyes narrowed.

"You like him," Lovino said.

Feliciano's heart began to race. "C– cosa?"

"Don't give me that. You like him. You have a crush on him."

So what if he did? Lovino was just being crabby and critical like always. Feliciano would have just shrugged and gone back to being silent, but he felt like he needed to defend himself on this, or defend Ludwig, he wasn't sure. Ludwig had told him to use a translator if he needed, that there was no shame in it.

Feliciano pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly typed into the translator. "I asked him to go out with me soon, and he said yes," he typed.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Sure, but did he know you meant it as a date? He seems really thickheaded."

Feliciano pouted in admonishment, but Lovi did have a point. He hadn't specified it as a date, but Ludwig had given him every sign! "He likes me too," he typed to Lovino. "He bought me coffee and cake today, he accepted my invitation to the restaurant, and he came back here and made dinner with me. I can just tell, I know he likes me."

Lovino huffed. "Just don't have too many expectations."

Knowing Lovino, that was as good as an assent. Feliciano threw his arms around his brother, laughing.

In broken Italian he said, "Thank you for calling him, Lovi." He hoped he understood.

His nerves were relieved when he felt Lovino's hands pat his back. "Yeah. You're welcome. Now get off me."

I have a much better grasp of this story now. Thanks for reading darlings!