Thanks for the subscriptions and thanks for the reviews NordicsAwesome and SonoSvegliato! ^^
Just some notes:
- Their mother is more or less Frederick the Great in this AU. I really wanted him to hold similar significance in Gilbert's life, and this was the best way I could fit it into the story.
- 102.4 F is 39.1 C
- I decided to write a bit of Gerita and Spamano in because it makes me happy. The relationships are not meant to play a huge role, as my romance writing abilities are poor, but I thought it would be fun to include.
Thanks for reading! Comments/reviews are much appreciated. I have most of the story planned out already, but I am always open to suggestions. ^^
It is 10:41 pm. Ludwig looks away from his TV and the laptop which now sits on his lap and towards his brother. Gil is asleep at the other end of the couch. A brown, fleece blanket drapes loosely over his slim frame. His body is tucked around his knees. His head is hidden by thin, bunched fabric and his outline swells with each inhale, shrinks with each exhale. He watches his brother pull the blanket taut over body and shiver. He wonders if his brother will shrink away.
"Hey Luddy," Gil says, startling Ludwig. He sits up and lets the blanket fall below his chin. "Can you grab me some ibuprofen?"
"Yeah, sure." Ludwig places his laptop on the coffee table and stands up, but stops and says, "How many did you have this afternoon?"
"I think four." Gil brings his knees closer to his body. "Or five? I don't know. Just bring me some. Please?"
Ludwig inquires at his brother's pale, glazed irises and the pink flush across his brother's face. It was unusual for his brother's tone to be so soft, or for him to fall asleep at such an early hour. The Gil he was used to had more energy than the entirety of Chicago, even when he was sick. It was a wonder how any disease managed to survive for long in Gil's body, and an even greater wonder how he managed to get sick so often. He walks closer to Gil and reaches for his brother's forehead but is stopped by a weak, yet still defiant grip around his wrist.
"Stop playing doctor and grab me some meds."
The heat from Gil's hands feels as though it might burn. Ludwig pulls his hand away and says, "You really shouldn't have more than four in a day. I'll get a thermometer instead."
"How is a thermometer supposed to make my headache go away?" Gil emphasizes the word thermometer with an unnecessary amount of disgust.
"It won't, but it's obvious you have a fever."
"I'm fine. Knowing my temperature won't solve anything."
Ludwig lets out a sigh. He rubs the bridge of his nose, unsure what kind of response expected from his brother. He glances at his brother again before he walks away and decides that some water is in order as well. When he returns with the thermometer in one hand and a glass of water in the other, he sees Gil facing forward with his feet on the ground and his hands gripping the edge of the seat. He is leaning forward and his eyes are shut. He is waiting for the sudden wave of nausea to subside. Ludwig sets the water and thermometer down on the coffee table and sits down next to Gil. He rubs his brother's back. When Gil opens his eyes, Ludwig picks up the glass and says, "Here, drink this."
Gil glares at his brother but grabs the glass. He takes slow, small sips. The water is warm and soothes his throat, but does little to settle his stomach. He sets the glass down. The motion causes his stomach to churn again. He looks up and the lights and sounds on the TV are too harsh. "Turn it off." He grips the couch again as his stomach rises. His voice is a weak trickle of gravel.
Ludwig knits his brows in concern. "Turn what off?"
"The TV." Gil tries to tighten his grip on the seat cushion, but instead he feels his strength leaving his arms. "Turn off the TV."
Ludwig grabs the remote. The screen and sound go blank. Gil finds a moment of relief. He loosens his grip on the couch and rests his head in his hands. He feels exhausted. Ludwig is rubbing his back again and, while he refuses to admit it, he does not want his baby brother to stop.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes. I'm fine," Gil says and before Ludwig can formulate a reply, Gil tries to stand up and nearly falls forward into the coffee table. As Ludwig catches him, Gil feels another wave of nausea rise into urgency. "Shit." He's trying to hold his own ground, but his strength has turned to wisps. "Get me to the bathroom."
Ludwig's eyes widen and he props his brother's arm up on his shoulder. They stumble over to the bathroom door. Before Ludwig can switch the bathroom light on, Gil is on his knees, in front of the toilet and vomiting. His throat burns but his body still feels cold. The only comfort comes from his baby brother's hand rubbing against his back and the few moments his body allows him to catch his breath.
Ludwig watches quietly. The image of their mother, home after her first round of chemotherapy, bent over the toilet, flashes through his mind. He shakes the memory away and looks over at Gil. He is dry heaving. His sweat shimmers like dew around his temples. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stands up, his legs are wavering. Ludwig moves to help him but is met with an angry gaze that keeps him at bay. Gil steadies himself with one hand against the cold, hard porcelain and uses his free hand to flush.
"Tastes better the second time around," Gil says. He pushes the seat down so he can't see the water swirl. He looks up at Ludwig again with a smile.
When Ludwig meets his brother's eyes, he sees their mother smiling, tufts of hair missing and an electric razor in her hand. She says it'll look better this way. It'll be fun. Oh, do you want a haircut too? Oh no, you want to shave it all off? You want to be like Mommy?
Gil furrows his brows as he looks at his baby brother. He's trying to process Luddy's face. Everything so fuzzy. It's moving slowly. His legs feel so sore. So tired. He wavers for a moment, then steadies himself again. Why does his ear still ache? Why does his head still hurt? It hurts more. Everything hurts more. He's dizzy. He's falling forward again until Ludwig catches him. Again.
"Maybe we should take you to the hospital," Ludwig says.
"No. I'll just sleep it off."
Ludwig looks down at Gil, who is still clinging to his arm for support and breathing rapidly. "At least let me take your temperature."
"Fine." Gil pushes himself upright and steadies himself against Ludwig. He wonders, for a moment, if he could make it back to his room alone, but his legs feel unsteady. "Help me back."
Ludwig lowers himself under his brother's left arm and walks Gil back to his room. He leaves to retrieve the thermometer and water from the living room. When he returns, Gil is laying in his bed, on his side, facing away from the door. His blanket is pulled tightly over his body and he is shivering again. Ludwig walks over to the other side of the bed. As he sets the glass down on Gil's nightstand, he hears the clean click of rosary beads against glass. Ludwig looks down at the wooden cross, he notices the white digital lettering on his brother's alarm clock, 12:17 pm. Ludwig runs his hand through his blond hair. A few gelled strands fall out of place. He is tired. He sighs and looks up at the shivering, bundled mass in front of him.
"Hey, Gil." Ludwig puts a free hand on Gil's shoulder. "You up?"
"Yeah." Gil pulls the blanket lower to reveal his face. Why is it so cold?
Ludwig hands Gil the thermometer. He watches his brother's eyes. Gil's gaze seems unfocused. His motions seem slow, clumsy, almost childlike. Beads of sweat are gathering near his eyes brows. They are white. His eyelashes are frost. They are white too. The sweat melts into his sheets. The sheets are not white. They are stark. Black. Gil had a fondness for the color. Ludwig glances at the flag hanging above the headboard. It is stark too. Black and white. A Prussian flag. Their mother was so proud of their heritage. Opa gave me my flute, she would say. He was Prussian. Oma was from Berlin. She was German. What's Prussia? Oh, no it's not on the map anymore honey.
The bird peers down at them. It is daunting. It is a ghost. Ludwig wonders how his brother can sleep when the dead hangs over him.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Gil looks down at the thermometer and squints at the small, digital screen. Ludwig snaps out of his daze and looks back to his brother.
"102.4," Gil says as he squints at the panel. His voice is slow and rough. He sets the thermometer back onto the nightstand and pulls the sheets closer. The warmth still leaves his bones. He closes his eyes.
Ludwig sits down in a large, yellow bird beanbag chair. It is the only source of color in an otherwise colorless room. It seems out of place, but then again, the whole room seems out of place for a guy like Gil. It was so neat, so serious. The room itself was stark. White walls. White bookshelf. Black journals, meticulously labeled. Not diary's, Gil would insist. Journals. Black photo albums, meticulously labeled. One lay open on his desk. Ludwig takes the album back to the bean bag. He looks at the photos. Spring break. Gil drunk with his two closest friends, Francis and Antonio. Antonio passed out on the beach with a tape smiley face on his toned stomach.
It left tan lines for months, Antonio later told him when they saw each other at Roscoe's for the first time. It was two years ago, a little after New Year's.
"Why does that giant ape keep looking over here?" Antonio's boyfriend, Lovnio asked.
"I don't think he looks like an ape. He's cute. He looks lost," Feliciano said. "Let's go talk to him." He was Lovnio's younger brother, although they looked identical.
"Oh, that's Ludwig. Gil's brother," Antonio said when he looked over. "What is he doing here?" He was surprised to see Ludwig at a gay bar. Gil never mentioned anything to him. Did he know?
"That white haired maniac's brother?" Lovnio said. "Feli don't talk to him." He looked over and Feli was gone. He was already by Ludwig, blabbing with his usual incessancy.
Ludwig wakes up to groaning. A dim sunlight slants through the window. Dust swirls, meandering in the sunlight. 5:15 am. Gil groans again. Ludwig stands up and rubs his neck. Perhaps a giant yellow Peep was not the best place to fall asleep, but then again, he didn't remember falling asleep. He walks up to his brother. Gil's breathing is labored and his hair is matted in sweat. He lays strangely, with his neck outstretch. Ludwig feels the drowsiness leave him. It is replaced by a sharp sense of realization.
"Gil." Ludwig puts a hand on his brother's shoulder and shakes him gently. "Wake up. We have to go to the hospital." His shirt is damp with sweat.
Gil's eyelashes flutter. His eyes open. He glances upwards at the form above his bed. His eyes are unfocused. "Mom. I don't want to go to school." His shuts his eyes again.
He shakes his brother again. "It's me, Luddy."
Gil tries to shift his head to get a better view of the strange voice. He grimaces when a sharp pain shoots up his neck.
"Mom. Help me. It hurts."
"What hurts?"
"My neck."
Ludwig stares at his brother. Not thinking. Just staring. What do I do? You know what to do. Why are you just standing there? Do something. Do something. Call the hospital. Call an ambulance. He's going to die. He's going to die. You're overreacting.
"Mom." Gil's eyes flutter. He is trying to keep them open.
Ludwig squats down to meet Gil's eyes. "I'm not Mom."
Gil surveys Ludwig's face. "Who are you? What did you do to Mom?"
Ludwig swallows. "I'm your brother. Ludwig." He pauses and wonders if he should mention Mom.
"Luddy." Gil smiles. His eyes shut, then open again. He squints at the stranger. "You're not Luddy."
Ludwig stands up and pulls his phone out from his pocket. His hands are shaking. He can't lose his brother too. Just dial the number. It's easy. Nine. One. One. Nine. One. One. State your emergency. My brother is ill. I think he has meningitis. Please send an ambulance.