Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
II.
"Feelings are not supposed to be logical. Dangerous is the man who has rationalized his emotions."
- David Borenstein
Emotions escape Ludwig, who is a sensible soul. He does not believe in souls – he has left such beliefs to the insane, the dreamers. He does not believe in emotion.
He keeps telling himself this as he walks the trodden path of dirtied snow – but nothing but Francis comes to mind. Francis, his head of silky blonde hair bent intently over Feliciano's hand. He thinks nothing of more practical matters, like the decline of Greece, the debt of Spain, no; he thinks of Feliciano's pleased expression, the smile that tugged at his lips (though obscured by his scarf, he could see the ends of his lips turned up.)
His heart clenches. It should not. There is no scientific reason why it should be clen -
"Ludwig!"
"Hallo, Elizaveta," he greets his cousin's wife in the most cordial tone he can manage.
"I've been trying to catch your attention for five minutes," she says, in a tone more worried than matter-of-fact.
"My apologies. I simply – "
Elizaveta waves her hand about. "There is no need to make excuses. Join Roderich and I for a cup of coffee." It's not a question. "He's parking the car. He'll meet us at the café."
He nods. "It would be my pleasure," he might have said had he been in a better mood - but he is not in a better mood, and so mutely they fall into step with each other, the only sound between them the sound of crunching snow.
The café is warm and cozy; its windows are frosted over with winter's breath, but it glows, lit from within.
Roderich is waiting for them when they push through the door, which gives a soft, pleasant jingle – Elizaveta races forward, enveloping the stiff backed Roderich in a hug – and he sighs and presses a kiss to her forehead.
Ludwig feels the bitter taste rise in his mouth again, and he almost looks away, thinking of…
"Ludwig," Roderich says, with an imperceptible frown not on his blank face but in his voice.
"Roderich," Ludwig responds.
The silence between them is awkward, and Elizaveta steps away, murmuring softly, "Oh, oh," and smiles in apology at Ludwig.
"Would you like anything, Ludwig?" Elizaveta asks to break the silence.
"I recommend their quark (1)," Roderich says, and Ludwig nods.
"I'll try that, then."
Roderich gets in line and Elizaveta finds a quaint circular table by the foggy window, beckoning for Ludwig to come.
He seats himself across from Elizaveta, not wanting the honour of sitting next to the perceptive woman, and pretends she's not trying to pick his brains.
"What's the matter, Ludwig?" she asks, not in her usual sing song voice, and he's not looking at her face but she's using a tone that illustrates the frown lines between her brows.
Francis, he wants to scream. Francis and... He cannot bring himself to say his name this time; he can only think of his silky brown hair, curled as if though he were a seraph, his smiling eyes, with his eyelashes curled up on his cheek...
Elizaveta is looking at him with deeper frown lines than he imagined before and he says, "I am well."
"Nonsense. You have not been yourself lately," and her tone is inviting but he shakes his head and stares down at the tabletop - and flinches.
He promptly excuses himself to find a napkin and wipe the table top clean of crumbs, missing Elizaveta's fond smile.
When he returns, Roderich is already back with two cups of quark and a green cup of coffee for Elizaveta. And unfortunately, his cousin has usurped his seat, leaving Ludwig to sit next to his wife. Lovely.
He doesn't know why this is such an issue, really. But Ludwig can't find it in himself to be weary when he is thinking of the seraphic boy anyway so, resigned, he neatly wipes the crumbs off the table in a single, practised sweep, disposes of the napkin and takes his new seat.
Elizaveta can feel the tension rolling off of Ludwig. It feels like a mix between sorrow and anger, with frustration mixed in somewhere – she realises the frustration when Ludwig runs his hands through his hair for the nth time and eats his quark slowly.
Ludwig has no patience for tardiness, and believes in efficiency and timeliness – but he seems to not notice that his companions have finished their meal. Roderich sneaks away for more quark and some bread so that Ludwig might not feel bad when he comes back to reality.
If he comes back to reality. His eyebrow is twitching and his fingers are almost drumming on the tabletop; his eyes are staring at the foggy window, but it is impossible to see out of it, so he is somewhere else completely.
Elizaveta wonders what can be grating on his nerves. His country is stable – everyone else is relying on him, yes, but he has shouldered such responsibilities in the past without growing this withdrawn and anxious.
She frowns, trying to speed up the line with her eyes – there are maybe six people in front of Roderich, and six people behind him too. The last thing they need is for Ludwig to return, finish eating and leave. He has been reclusive as of late; even Gilbert is worrying for his brother now, and Ludwig has started to not take phone calls.
He is in an almost catatonic state, and after the war, he swore that it would never happen again.
She closes her eyes, listens to the rhythm of Ludwig's fingernails against the table beating out against the din of the cozy café, and begins drumming her fingers herself on her thigh. Her brain grows fuzzy and she falls into sleep, try as she might to stop it.
"Elizaveta," a voice says, but she still cannot break free.
"Elizaveta, it's me," a different voice says, and she can't quite put her finger on it, even though she has heard it a million times before. Who's me? Elizaveta wants to ask, but her mouth won't work and her eyes won't open.
"Wake up, sorella (2)," the second voice pleads. Feliciano.
Her eyes snap open to see that her Feliciano is staring down at her, amber eyes wide with concern. He's more beautiful than she remembered, if possible – the tip of his nose is still rosy with cold, and his lips are set in an unsure smile.
Oh my god. Did I fall asleep? I fell asleep, she groans to herself in embarrassment.
She hugs him tightly. "Feli," she breathes. "When did you get here?"
Feliciano returns her hug and she can feel his smile. Five minutes ago, with Francis," he says, and they release each other. He looks at the line, looking for Francis, and adds, "You must be very tired, sorella." He turns his head back to her and peers down at her with his wide, wide eyes and she hugs him again.
"It's so good to see you, Feli…" She sighs. She feels as if though she's missing something.
He takes the seat next to her and –
Shit! "Wait!" she gasps (it's improper to curse in front of sweet Feli.) Feliciano looks at her questioningly.
"Where's Ludwig?"
Feliciano's face falls. "He must have left before Francis and I got here. Sorella, I think he's avoiding me."
"He's avoiding us all, I think." Roderich frowns, and her head whips to see him across the table – and another cup of coffee.
"He must be," Feliciano says weakly.
She takes a long swig of coffee, failing to see the expression on Feliciano's face but feeling the fresh suspicion tug at her all the same.
(1) quark - Kind of like yogurt. Closest to Greek yogurt, I believe.
sorella - Italian for sister
I updated! Surprised? Me too. It's 4.42 in the morning and I just felt like writing this after posting Falter. (I have a strange sleep schedule right now; I sleep about 4 hours for every 9 hours I'm awake, and can barely stay awake pushing that, but can't really sleep before that. This means that I stay awake all night.) But I hope to write more; I have another chapter drafted from a while ago, but as you can see, they aren't very long, so I'm not sure how much that means to you. xD
... I'll probably revise this later.
Reviews are appreciated!
Until next time~
loveliness decays