It's late January now. Gil lays in his bed and counts the large, white ceiling tiles in his hospital room. They moved him out of the ICU a few days ago. His current room is large and clean. The floors here are hardwood. One wall is occupied by a window and a wood paneled bench. There other walls are occupied by a mixture of white plaster and wood paneling. A white analog clock hangs above the door frame. Gil notes that it is 10:56 am when Dr. Braginski enters the room. Gil is not sure what day it is, why he's in a hospital, or why Ivan is here, but he does not want to ask any of these questions. He does know, however, that it is 10:56 am.
"It's 10:56." Gil says. His mouth slides into a thin smile and his eyelids slide down with his eyes as he changes his gaze from the clock to the doctor. He shifts his head slightly against the white cotton pillowcase. His eyes widen. "Ivan. Why are you here?"
"I'm a resident here. I need to replace your IV bags."
"You sound funny."
Ivan sighs as he walks towards Gil. He pulls a medical cart behind him.
"You're going to poison me," Gil says.
"No." Ivan positions the cart parallel to the bed. This again.
"Is this your revenge?"
Ivan ignores Gil and holds a bag of dexamethasone against the light. Looks sterile, clear.
"What's in the bag?"
Ivan glances down at Gil and says, "Medication, to keep you alive," then double checks the label.
"You hate me," Gil says as he scans Ivan's face, then turns his head to the ceiling and shuts his eyes. He feels his stomach clench and creep into his chest and throat. How did he get here? Why was Ivan here?
It was noon on February 21st. Gil was 11. He stood by a snowbank of a lake. He had Ivan's coat in his hand. Ivan sat on the ground by Gil's feet, shivering. He had a bruise on his eye and a cut on his lip.
"Can I have it back yet?"
Gil laughed and stuck his hand in the pockets of Ivan's coat. "I wonder what's in here?" Gil pulled out an empty candy wrapper. "Tch. Gross." He tossed it on the ground.
"Can I have it back now? Berdwald and Mathias stole my allowance this morning. There's nothing else in there."
Gil glanced down at Ivan. "Is that supposed to make me feel bad for you?" Nothing could make him feel worse than he did and he wasn't even sure what he felt and that only made him more upset.
"Please. I'm cold."
"Get on your knees and beg." Gil waved the jacket in front of Ivan. He laughed as it hit Ivan in the face.
Ivan shifted in the snow and put his head to Gil's feet. "P-please."
"Are you crying? You're pathetic." Gil tossed the jacket onto the frozen lake. "Go get your own jacket. You're getting snot on my shoes."
Ivan looked up at the lake. "I-I can't. Mama says I can't go on the ice."
Gil stared Ivan down with an expression of pure spite. "What are you crying about? Why don't you just run home to Mama?"
"M-mama's going to be mad." Ivan started crying even harder.
The wind nips at Gil's nose and cuts through the hardness in his face. "Tch. You're pathetic. You're Mom's not going to be mad because you lost your coat. I'll get it for you."
Ivan looked up at Gil as he started to slide across the ice. "W-what are you doing? It's dangerous."
Gil shuffled over to the jacket, which only lay a few feet from the bank of the lake. "Don't be such a pansy." Gil tossed the jacket onto the snow and laid down on the ice. "The ice is great." He rolled over onto his stomach and smiled at Ivan.
Ivan rubbed the tears from his eyes, then looked up at Gil. "It really is dangerous on the ice. Mama said so."
"Moms say lots of things." Gil's expression fell for a moment. "But that doesn't mean that everything they say is true." He traced circles on the cold, hard ice with a finger. "My mom used to lie all the time."
Ivan watched Gil and remembered when Mama told him, just a few days ago, be nice to Gilbert and Ludwig when they come back to school. Yes of course Gilbert too. Why? They lost their Mama. No honey, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here forever. Ivan shivered. The cold fell through to his bones.
Gil looked over at Ivan. "Are you in love with me or something? Just take your coat and leave."
Ivan stood up and grabbed his coat. He put it on and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "Thanks."
Gil glared at Ivan, then stood up and brushed off the powder of dirt and snow that collected along his legs. He looked up at Ivan. "Are you going to keep watching me?" Gil tilted his chin forward. "Go."
Ivan turned around, but stopped when he heard a loud crack. Gil was frozen over the ice, suspended mid-step. Gil looked down at his feet and saw a fracture in the ice. He watched it grow and before he knew it, he was in the water. It was cold. So cold. Breathe. He couldn't breathe. Everything hurt. Everything was cold. Breathe. It was too cold. He missed Mom.
"Gil?" Ivan says. "What's wrong?"
Gil traces the grout between the ceiling tiles with his eyes. Breathe. It's hot. He counts the tiles. One. Two. Three. Breathe. Four. Five. Six. Breathe. "I'm sorry."
Ivan furrows his brow. "Sorry?"
"I'm drowning." Gil's breathing quickens again.
"Gil, you're not drowning."
"I'm drowning."
"You're not drowning. You're in the hospital."
"You could've let me drown."
"Gil, slow down. You need to breathe."
"You hate me."
"I don't hate you."
"Why didn't you let me drown?" Gil turns his head and meets Ivan's gaze. He is dizzy. The edges of his vision darkens.
Ivan crouches down to Gil's eye level. "Because I wanted to keep you alive." Gil is hyperventilating now. "Can you count to ten with me?"
"No." Gil tries to catch his breath. "No." He can't breathe. "Fuck you."
Ivan pulls back, confused by Gil's reaction.
"Just leave," Gil says.
Ivan continues to watch him, unsure. Gil glares at Ivan and says, "Go." Ivan sighs and leaves.
It is 8:26 pm in mid-January. Gil lays in his hospital bed in a first floor patient room. He is reading an old copy of Catch-22. Ludwig sits on the cushioned window seat and studies for an upcoming module exam. Gil feels a headache return and shuts the book on the veneered bedside table. He pushes the table away and lets out a sigh as he leans his head back and counts the large white ceiling tiles.
Ludwig lowers his book and looks up at his brother. "Is everything okay?"
"Hmm?"
"I said, is everything okay?"
Gil watches as Ludwig balances the textbook and notes on his legs. "Don't you have something better to do? Like go to a library? Or get a beer with your friends? You do have more friends than Feli and that Asian kid, right?" He rubs his earlobe. Ludwig's voice sounds a bit strange, but so does his own voice. It sounds hollow and distant. Must be the headache. "You can't hang out here forever. They'll kick you out eventually."
"The visiting hours here are unrestricted." Ludwig straightens his reading glasses and looks back down at his notes.
"You'll catch meningitis too if you sit here all day."
"Pretty sure I won't."
Gil sighs again. "You know, there are far better places to spend your time. You act like I'm dying."
Ludwig pauses over his notes. His brows knit together. He looks up at Gil with an expression that seemed offended and hurt.
"Chill out Luddy. It's just a joke."
"It wasn't a very good one."
The fluorescent lights are harsh. Ludwig looks pale, tired. Gil's eyes widen in realization. Gil swallows and looks away. He shuffles through the get-well-soon gifts by his bed and picks up a round, yellow bird plush toy from the pile. He flaps its small wings with his thumbs. "How's Gilbird?"
"He's fine, but he misses you."
Gil hugs the plush against his chest and starts to look through the other gifts and cards. Ludwig returns to his studies. After a moment, Gil's headache starts to return. He stacks the cards together on his bed and place them back on the nightstand.
"Do you believe in karma?" Gil says.
"What?"
"Well, maybe I deserved this."
Ludwig looks up with a concerned expression on his face. "What are you talking about?"
"Never mind. It's nothing."
"You can't just say things like that and hope I won't notice."
"Notice what?" Gil laughs and tosses the bird plush up into the air.
"You know you can talk to me, right?"
Gil glances over at Ludwig, then returns his attention to the toy. "Do you think Gilbird likes it in his cage? Maybe he's not singing. Maybe he's screaming, get me outta here! Get me away from this freak!" Gil smiles and turns the plush to face Ludwig. He squeezes the sides of the yellow bird. The little orange beak slides forward and the eyes slide backward as its face deforms. "Looks like a peep, doesn't it?"
Ludwig remains silent as he watches his brother and wonders if Gil finally lost it.
Gil bounces the plush against his legs. "If I was Gilbird, I'd fly far away from here. I'd fly all the way back to the Canary Islands." He holds the toy up to his face. "Or actually, do you think he knows where the Canary Islands are? Or what they are?"
"Gilbert…"
Gil pauses and looks over at Ludwig. He smiles and says, "Not Gilbert, Gilbird." He tosses the bird at Ludwig. "Fly little bird. Fly."
Ludwig catches the plush and wonders why his brother still acts like a child at the age of 26 – or rather, 27 now. He makes a mental note to throw Gil a proper birthday party as he hands the toy back to Gil. Gil takes it back and rubs his thumb against the soft, velvet texture of the bird.
"Gilbird love you very much. He would never run away."
"He's a bird Luddy. He doesn't love me. He just likes me because I feed him." Gil glances at the stack of cards and gifts at his bed stand. He feels his expression slip, but catches it before it falls away completely.
Ludwig watches Gil's face. He presses his lips together and takes a deep breath.
"But as long as I keep feeding him, he'll stay by my side." Gil smiles at Ludwig.
Ludwig cocks his head to the side and wonders how often Gil has thought this. "That's not true. He just likes to be around you."
Gil looks back down at the toy in his hands, at the small, bright black eyes and the orange nub beak. "I'm tired, Luddy. You should head home now."
"I can stay longer if you'd like."
"No, it's fine." Gil places the toy back on the night stand and lays down in his bed. "You really should go home now." He smirks at Ludwig. "Seriously, you look like shit. Go home."
It is late January. Ludwig is sitting on a plastic chair in Gil's hospital room and Dr. Braginski is prepping Gil for discharge.
"Well, Gil, everything looks good, although I suggest you ease back into your daily routines. Give yourself about a week. There are several long-term effects, the most common of which is hearing loss, concentration problems –"
Gil stops listening as Ivan starts to drone. Instead, he's focused on strange hook in Ivan's nose and wonders if he knows how to pronounce Beilschmidt. He's trying to ignore the fact that the tenors in his voice sound muffled. He's trying to ignore the way everything sounds more muted than it should. He's trying to ignore the syllables that sounded oddly like "hearing loss."
"Excuse me. Did you hea–"
"It's actually pronounced Bial-scmidt."
"I'm sorry?"
"My last name. It's pronounced Bail-scmidt, not Biel-schmidt." Gil emphasizes the pronunciation with an unusual amount of agitation. Ludwig looks up from his phone, confused.
"Oh. I'm sorry." Ivan looks confused as well, but shakes it off as one of Gil's eccentricities. "Anyways, you can make an appointment at the front desk for your hearing test."
Gil glares at Ivan. It is difficult, but he can still make sense of his words. "I can hear just fine."
"That's great, but—"
"Why do I need to make an appointment?"
"Beca—"
"We're talking right now aren't we? Clearly I can hear you."
Ludwig looks up from his phone and says, "Gil. It's protocol. Just schedule the test or I'll do it for you." Gil glares atLudwig, but doesn't respond. There is a glimpse of suspicion in Ludwig as he meet's Gil's gaze, but in that moment Gil's anger looks more like desperation and Ludwig feels the same desperation and he decides that to believe his brother's words. Ludwig walks up to the Ivan and says, "I'm sorry. I'll take care of the appointment."