Well. It's been a while. I'm working hard lately, trying to get the next chapter out, but to be honest, I don't have enough content for Ludwig and Feli to bridge between here and the ending...

I've also been incredibly busy preparing for an upcoming convention, for which I'm going to be cosplaying N. Italy. I sat at a sewing machine for over nine hours yesterday to get the jacket done... It's really stressful, but now I'm just making excuses! Sorry guys;;; The next chapter or two probably won't have Ludwig and Feli in them, I need to sort a LOT of things out.

It was a cold Thursday afternoon. The wind whipped through the streets and cut through clothes unless you were wearing enough layers. Ludwig only had his coat with a t-shirt underneath it. He was shivering by the time he got to his door from the bus stop; it had been a terrible walk, however the distance. He punched in the code to the door and let himself inside.

His dad wasn't home, right. Neither was his mom, in fact. She was still on a business trip… somewhere in Europe. He didn't know where it was this time. She left frequently enough that it was a normal occurrence for him not to know. It got to the point where Ludwig didn't really know his mother anymore—she was just a breadwinner for the family. His father on the other hand, was around a decent amount of time. He was a good role model; well-groomed, tall and businesslike, and very intelligent and hard working. He just didn't seem to know how to talk to his son—He'd never played catch with his father as a child, he'd never been read bed-time stories or watched the football games with him. The man just seemed a little apathetic, but Ludwig didn't hold it against him. Perhaps Ludwig was a little apathetic himself.

He realized that he had a bit of a different relationship with his parents than other kids—other kids' parents would promise to love them however their successes, however their accomplishments. Ludwig had grown up in a household where success was nearly mandatory; grades were demanded of him, he was required to learn an instrument, and play a sport. Later in life, however, he found this helped him in many ways; his parents had planned his life so his accomplishments would mount quick enough to be considered great; he could play the piano decently enough, even if he didn't like to, he could play soccer quite well, he was proficient in history, if nothing else; over all, he was a well-rounded kid.

He'd found that recently, however, he'd seemed more distracted than usual. He'd been so worried that Monday about Feliciano that he'd been distracted from his test. He hadn't been able to complete his homework assignments; his concentration had been cut down.

He'd arrived in his math class that Thursday to find out that they were getting their test scores back. He'd immediately felt a pang of fear; he hadn't done well on that test. He was sure of it. He hadn't been sure he'd gotten a single question right—

And there it was. The test scores were in his hand, and he was scanning the list down to himself, gliding his finger down the page…

21/46

Dammit. Dammit, dammit! What the hell was wrong with him!? That was less than 50%, even, lower than an E grade. That was worse than he'd ever seen himself do on a test; worse than he'd seen anyone do! That would take his grade in the math class down to a… a C-, or so, perhaps a D+! Which, in turn, would topple his GPA, which is…

Oh goodness, he was fucked. His future was fucked, now that he looked. He shouldn't have looked, this blissful unawareness could have been soothing—could have been like a sweet lie. Saved him… from trying this hard, from falling this hard. From failing this bad.

His GPA was now knocked down to a 2.2. At the quickly approaching semester deadline, that's surely what it would come out to be… God, was he an idiot.

He rushed up to his room, which in the past few days had been more of a stressful place for him than ever, and he'd gone into the adjacent bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked hard. He didn't look like a failing student. He didn't feel like a failing student. He shouldn't be a failing student! He tried so hard, he'd given it his all, for his whole life… He felt his future collapsing ahead of him—collages, careers, jobs. It was junior year- the year he was supposed to cut all the bullshit and do his best!

He felt hot tears slipping out of his eyes. He rubbed them away quickly. This was no reason to cry… it was weak to cry; a weakness that he didn't need. However, salty tears just kept coming as he stood, silently. There was no trembling, no noise; he didn't make a show out of it. It was as if he was just standing there, if it weren't for the wet lines tracing down his cheeks. Ludwig stared into the mirror at himself, breaking down from the inside.

He felt like this was Feliciano's fault. Yet, Feliciano was the last person he'd blame for anything. The last person he'd want to hurt about this would be Feliciano. 'Oh, yes. Even though we just started dating, I'm failing my math class so we need to call it off!' Christ, that was dumb.

Ludwig wanted to spend time with Feliciano, of course, but he also needed some time to dedicate to his academic life. Maybe… maybe if he worked hard enough, and got a good grade on his second semester card, he could pull his grades up from a plummeting nose-dive. Maybe with some time sacrificed, he could gain happiness with Feliciano.

He wondered if that would be… even vaguely acceptable. He'd just gotten together with Feli four days prior! They'd only kissed- not even a formal date yet! He'd been to Feliciano's house once more that week, on Wednesday; they'd spent time on the couch in the front room, and moved later up to Feliciano's bedroom. Feliciano had made pasta for them—his cupboards seemed limitlessly stocked with the stuff.

Ludwig would, of course, want to spend time with him. Maybe since it was such a short amount of time, Feliciano wouldn't be sure of the relationship—they hadn't even really spent that much time together (however, if there was anything Ludwig would change, it would be that). Ludwig was probably already not that special, right? Or at least, that's what he thought. Feliciano would get bored with him, and find a girlfriend. Someone who could give him the kind of relationship he needed—not Ludwig.

Someone better than me. Ludwig thought. There will always be someone better than me.

Ludwig watched the mirror, nearly glaring at the pitiful expression looking back at him.

He decided that he didn't need to eat dinner today. He didn't deserve it. He headed to bed.

It's just about 1000 words when you get down to it. The second half of this chapter is still in the works, though I don't have a lot done. Might get cut out altogether.

My confidence in my writing drops another 2% every time I read this, goodness.