A/N: Finalmente! The Italian we've been waiting for is here. c: Please enjoy Chapter 3- reviews are read, loved, and appreciated! (On a random note, the new season of HBO's Boardwalk Empire premieres tonight. I wanted to get this chapter to you all before I disappear for the evening, haha.)
By the time the train rolled to a stop outside of Genova, the sun was beginning to set, and Ludwig had slept for a few more hours during the ride. His meeting with Vash and Lili seemed so long ago, and the conversation with his father even more distant than that. More than anything else, he wanted to eat something and travel on foot. He knew a car was too much to hope for.
The station he arrived at was significantly less crowded than the one in Milano. At last, Ludwig breathed a sigh of relief. He pulled his jacket on and then his hat. A small, faded sign outside of the station pointed him in the right direction.
Cinque Terre.
Ludwig had heard of the place, of course. It was supposedly one of the gems of the Italian peninsula. He never thought of it as a place looking for workers. He was not entirely sure if anyone would hire him there. Luckily, he had a very long stretch of dirt road to walk on as he practiced what he was going to say to potential employees, as well as what he would write to Gilbert if he failed at finding a job.
His feet dragged. He did not want to think about that possibility.
The sound of wheels on the road roused him from his thoughts. A few bike riders had passed him earlier, but none had slowed down to talk to him. Ludwig peeked shyly out from beneath the brim of his cap.
It was a young, smiling man.
He said something in Italian, but Ludwig pursed his lips shut and gently shook his head. He desperately wished that he knew more of the language—this man seemed very kind. The newcomer laughed.
"Do you speak English?"
"Yes, a little."
"Good!" said the other man. "We can talk this way, then."
Ludwig nodded firmly. The man was so open and friendly. He began to wonder if all Italians acted this way. Surely not all, he told himself grimly. Despite his thoughts, the man riding next to him would prove him wrong, it seemed. He smiled at Ludwig before jumping off of his bicycle in favor of walking it alongside him.
"I have a small, strange request," the man admitted with a chuckle. Ludwig scowled and looked at him again, stopping in his tracks. "Could I sketch you, signore?"
Sketch? Ludwig hadn't heard the word before. His confusion must have been evident, as the Italian quickly fished for something in his bag.
"I'm an artist," he explained, holding a stick of what looked like charcoal. He mimed out an animated drawing action on his palm. "And I like to sketch people who visit the city!"
Ludwig blinked confusedly before slowly extending his palm. The artist laughed heartily, "No, no, signore, I have paper!"
"But I have no money to give you," Ludwig said sternly. "For the drawing."
The Italian man snorted at that, "If I wanted money, I would have asked for it, I promise. No, I only want practice, and I've drawn very few foreigners recently."
Ludwig decided to humor the man. He had nothing waiting for him in Cinque Terre, anyway. The two men sat down on the edge of the dirt road. Ludwig sighed audibly. His feet ached from walking so far. He felt a headache slowly setting in. He could barely keep his eyes open. Honestly, he didn't think he would be a very good model for the other man.
He sat up, at first, not knowing how to properly sit for a portrait sketch.
"Please, sit comfortably," the Italian insisted. "I promise I'll work fast!" Ludwig crossed his legs and leaned back on his hands. "Yes, just like that! Oh, except for one thing…"
The artist leaned forward and gently pulled the hat off of his head, "There!"
Ludwig instinctively reached up and smoothed down his cropped, blonde hair. He was so used to looking presentable, tidy… militarized. If his appearance was going to be drawn into immortality, he told himself that he needed to look somewhat put together, even if he didn't feel that way. The Italian man chuckled, "Hey, no cheating! I want to sketch you as you are. Messy hair, too!"
The man worked for the first few minutes in complete silence. Ludwig didn't mind. He was mesmerized by the man's swift wrist flicks and his sweeping strokes as he dragged the charcoal across the paper. It was relaxing—other than the distant sound of the ocean, the faraway train whistle, and the wind in the trees, the only sounds came from the artist's sketchbook.
The artist must not have liked it, for he began to talk again as he sketched. Ludwig noticed him trying to make eye contact, and he diverted his gaze shyly.
"Hm," the other man said. "You look… French?"
Ludwig shook his head.
"German?"
The Italian man grinned when Ludwig answered his guess with a curt nod. He went on with earnest, "I thought so! You are too tall to be anything else. What is your name?"
Silence answered the question. Ludwig trusted the talkative man well enough; his shyness kept him quiet now. The other man seemed to sense it in him, and he waited patiently for an answer. He sketched quietly a little while longer before Ludwig briefly met his gaze, "My name is Ludwig."
"Lud-wig," the other man pronounced slowly. Then he repeated it, ensuring that he said it correctly. His name had never sounded so foreign to him before, but he had only ever heard German-speakers say it. The other man smiled again as he said it once more, "Ludwig. It is nice to meet you! I'm Feliciano."
Ludwig met the man's eyes again. He worked out each syllable in his head before attempting to pronounce it, "Feliciano?"
The man seemed delighted at his attempt, "Yes, that's right!"
Feliciano's good mood was contagious. Of course, Ludwig was still tired, hungry, and naturally introverted—he wanted to return the man's smile, but he couldn't find it in himself to do so. He was worried that his sullen demeanor and quiet behavior would scare Feliciano off, but he was relieved when the man seemed more than ready to carry most of the conversation.
He simply nodded or gave one-word responses to answer most of Feliciano's questions, and after a few minutes, he simply carried on about the town they were both walking toward. ("A group of villages, really," Feliciano made sure to explain before added, enthusiastically, "I live in Vernazza, the prettiest one!") Inevitably, he resumed asking more questions.
"So, Ludwig, why are you here in Cinque Terre?"
"Work, perhaps."
"You look so tired, friend," Feliciano said. He even looked at his sketch sadly as he said it. "Where did you board the train?"
"Milano."
"But before that," continued the other man, chuckling. "Did you ride from Switzerland?"
"Ah, no," Ludwig said before correcting himself, "Munich."
"Munich?" the other man pressed worriedly. His eyebrows knit in concern and he quickly looked him over. He seemed to have completely forgotten about the drawing in that moment. "Dio mio, you poor man! Are you all right? It must have been such a long train ride… Have you eaten? You must be starved!"
Ludwig frowned in confusion. He was a little hungry, yes, but it was nothing to be worried over. He waved his hand, "Ah, no, I'm fine." He wasn't, but he didn't like to be fussed over. Feliciano wasn't about to stop there, evidently.
"Do you have friends here? Where will you stay?"
"I don't know yet."
Feliciano frowned and stared at the sketch in his hands. Ludwig stared at the dirt path ahead of them—he hadn't even thought about how long it was going to take for him to walk there. He supposed that it was long enough, considering that the other man had opted for a bicycle. Suddenly, Feliciano looked up at him again and flashed him a big grin.
"I have a small place," Feliciano explained. He laughed nervously as he continued, "It isn't fancy… But if it would help, you can stay there for a night while you work things out. It would be terrible of me to send you by yourself."
Ludwig scowled, embarrassed. "No," he insisted. "I would be a nuisance to you. I couldn't. But… thank you for your offer, Feliciano."
"No one is a nuisance to me," Feliciano replied with an amused smile. He was surely exaggerating, but a part of Ludwig believed it to be true. "And you said yourself that you have no money, so the hotel is no option…Fisherman Tonio might take you in, but he will be at dinner at this hour—and no one bothers Tonio for anything when he is at dinner…"
"Feliciano."
He said the man's name a little more harshly than he wanted, so he tried to start over.
"Thank you, but I have little to give you in return," Ludwig said. "It wouldn't be right."
Feliciano had already tucked his sketchbook into his bag when he looked up, smiling again. "Ludwig. If I wanted something from you, I would have asked for it," he explained. Then he pointed to his bag. "And I have this drawing, remember? Come on, we'll go together!"
Ludwig watched him stand up and brush his pants off before leaning over to pick up his bicycle. He couldn't believe the hospitality this man—this stranger—was offering him. If the woman he had met at the Milano train station was a sign that he was going in the right direction, then surely this man was something even greater—an angel, perhaps. He reached for his discarded cap and brushed the dirt off before putting it back on his head. Ludwig looked up, and his eyes met Feliciano's, and for the first time in a long time, he smiled.
Feliciano extended a hand to help him up with, "Can you ride?"
"A bicycle? Yes," replied Ludwig, standing to his feet.
"Good! Then you'll drive, and I'll ride."
Ludwig raised his eyebrows. He truly did mean "go together." His eyes darted to the bike, and he wondered if it could support them both. They would look so childish. When he paused to think about it, Feliciano shrugged a shoulder, before joking, "Unless you would rather walk, of course!"
No, that was not an option.
"Where will you ride?"
"On the back," Feliciano pointed to the rear wheels, where there was space for him to place his feet. "I'll stand here and hold onto your shoulders."
"Like children…" Ludwig commented softly, his face flushing.
"You are the one who didn't bring a bicycle, tonto!" the other laughed. "And sometimes acting like children is fun, no?"
Ludwig pulled his jacket on and reluctantly swung his leg over the bike seat. Feliciano leaned over and picked up the small suitcase before tossing it into the basket in front. He jumped onto the bike and placed his hands on each of Ludwig's shoulders. He reached over Ludwig's shoulder and pointed down the dirt path.
"Stay on this path until I tell you."
"All right," Ludwig stammered as he pedaled gently.
He was scared that Feliciano might have fallen off of the bike if he pedaled too quickly, so he started off slowly. After a few yards, he realized that they weren't moving fast enough, and they began to lose balance on the bike. Feliciano laughed and patted him on his shoulders when they came to another stop.
"I'm still here, Ludwig!" he chuckled. "You have to go fast, or else we'll fall!"
He didn't need to be told twice. Ludwig pulled the brim of his hat down and tried again after he was certain that Feliciano would not fall. After a rocky start, the wheels cruised smoothly over the old, dirt path. They were the only ones on the road, as far as he could tell.
He kept his eyes fixed on the road as they barreled toward the sunset. He could smell the salt of the ocean already—Ludwig had never been so close to the seashore. His feet began to pedal faster. Feliciano sang some Italian tune, softly, to himself as they rode along. He had a nice voice, Ludwig thought.
"Feliciano," he said.
"Yes?"
"I'm not sure… how to thank you," Ludwig continued. He would have to think of a way to repay the man for his kindness.
Feliciano patted his shoulder, "Grazie!"
"Pardon?"
"That's how to say 'thank you,' in Italian," he explained with a playful laugh. "You said you didn't know how to thank me, yes? That's how!"
Ludwig smirked amusedly and shook his head as the man resumed his tune from earlier.
Grazie, Feliciano.