TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: none
NAMES: Helena Karpusi- Mama Greece
Message left on the phone of Sadik Adnan at 6:51 AM:
"Um. Hello, Mr. Adnan? I'm Feliciano Vargas and I'm calling for Ludwig Beilschmidt? He. He got hurt last night and he can't come in for a while, it's really bad. I— sorry. Call back?"
Message left on the phone of Helena Karpusi at 6:55 AM:
"Mrs. Karpusi? It's Feliciano. I can't come in for work today, there's a family emergency. Sorry."
Phone conversation held with Gilbert Beilschmidt at 7:02 AM:
"Gilbert? It's Feli."
"Morning, Feli— hey, you don't sound too good, did something happen?"
Silence. "Yes."
"What?"
"It's— oh my God, Gilbert, I'm sorry, it's Ludwig—"
"What happened to him—"
"He— I'm so sorry, Gilbert, h-he—"
"Feliciano what happened—"
"He was— he was r-raped."
"WHAT?" A pause. "Who did it? Feli, you tell me who did it and I swear to Christ I'll rip their worthless fucking guts out nobody does that to my baby brother I swear to Jesus fucking Christ—"
"Gilbert, please not so loud."
"Sorry." An exhale. "Jesus fucking Christ, I just—" A stream of entirely incomprehensible German, steadily rising in volume and intensity until—
"Gilbert please could you come over? He needs— we need you."
"Yeah. Of course. I'll be right over, I just— Jesus Christ— it's— why would— I'll fucking kill the bastards. Be right over."
"Thank you."
Phone conversation held with Lovino Vargas at 7:23 AM:
"Feli I've told you a million times never call me before nine—"
"It's really important, Vino."
"It'd better— what's wrong."
"I—"
"You've been crying. I can hear it. What's wrong?"
"It's Ludwig."
"What, did he dump you?"
"No! It's— oh my God. It's really bad, I just— I just really need you to come over—"
"Feli. What happened."
Pause. Inhale. "Ludwig— Ludwig was raped."
Long pause. "Holy shit."
"Come over please?"
"I'll be right there, I just— oh my God, really?"
"Yes."
"Oh my God Feli I'm so sorry, that's— that's shitty— oh my God I thought it was just you had a fight or something I'm really sorry that's really fucking shitty—"
"It is."
"I'll be over in forty-five minutes."
"Thanks, Vino."
It is 8:24 AM, eight hours and twenty-nine minutes after It happened.
Gilbert and Lovino arrive within five minutes of each other, each with an overnight bag. Gilbert is first, and he makes a beeline for Ludwig, aquiline face and wiry frame and tough hands that pull Ludwig close until he's leaning against his older brother.
"Shit, kid," Gilbert mutters in hoarse German, "I'm so sorry— those fuckers won't know what hit them—" He curses more, Gilbert always does when he's agitated, and Ludwig holds onto him like he did when he was younger. Gilbert's lean arms surround Ludwig and he shuts his eyes this is safe this is safe Gilbert's safe and rests his head on Gilbert's shoulder. Ludwig registers that Feliciano's slightly shorter, stockier brother has come in as well, and is speaking with Feliciano in hushed Italian, glancing over at them from time to time.
With a final squeeze, Gilbert pulls back and says "I'm staying over. No exceptions."
Ludwig nods, relieved even though he knows Gilbert and Lovino don't really get along— not many people get along well with Lovino— because his brother has never been anything but there for him.
Lovino slips between them and gives Ludwig a rather perfunctory hug, and says "And if any of you think I'm letting Feli deal with this alone you're dead wrong. Where do I sleep?"
Gilbert and Lovino end up rock-paper-scissoring for the air mattress, and for a moment it seems almost normal, but Ludwig still aches and he knows Gilbert's seen the bruises, and probably Lovino as well, and he can't stop his mind from what-iffing:
What if they're disgusted?
What if they're only here because they have to be?
What if they think it's his fault— well, that wouldn't be strange, it is, because he'd been careless and stupid—
Feliciano is standing by his side, and lays a hand on his arm just above the elbow, and Ludwig jumps a little. He's begun to shake, trying to shut his thoughts up, and curses himself internally, but Feliciano gives him another quick hug and Gilbert stops sulking at the refusal of best-two-of-three to pat his shoulder on his way into the kitchen.
Ludwig sort of drifts through the rest of the day, and Feliciano tries to coax him into naps but he can't sleep, and Gilbert and Lovino cook dinner but he doesn't eat that much of it, and this pattern continues for most of the weekend as well.
It is 9:56 PM, twenty-two hours and one minute after It happened.
Feliciano sits down next to Lovino on the couch, feeling very tired and old, and he's never felt like that before, and he needs to talk.
Gilbert and Ludwig are in the tiny home office, doing something— talking, hopefully, but that's unlikely since Ludwig's spoken the equivalent of roughly two paragraphs all day (and it's killing Feliciano because Ludwig isn't a chatterbox but he talked, normally, before It)— and Feliciano is rather grateful for the privacy.
He still switches to Italian, just in case.
"Lovino?" He curls up next to his brother, like when he was little and watching a sad movie.
"Mm?" Lovino places an arm around him— again like when they were little (when he was young the worst he could imagine happening ever was all the linguini in the world vanishing) and Feliciano would be scared of the dark or noises in the night.
"I don't know what to do."
"Neither do I."
"I just— I'm scared for him and I don't know how to help and I don't know what to do and I don't know how to deal with something like this and I don't understand why anyone would want to hurt him so much and I don't know how to make it better and I feel like I should know but I don't and it's really scary and and and—"
Lovino probably has some sort of sixth sense for when Feliciano is about to cry, because he hauls Feliciano closer into a hug. "I know, Feli— hey, shhh, shhh, you're doing what you can—"
"No 'm not," sniffles Feliciano. "Could do more."
"Like?"
"I don't know!" He yells. "I don't know that's the problem—"
"None of us do!" Lovino yells back. "None of us do so why don't we go look it up there's probably five billion manuals on what to do doesn't he like manuals anyway?"
"Okay!" Feliciano doesn't know why he's still shouting but he should quiet down before Ludwig and Gilbert get nervous. "Okay. Look it up. Okay."
"We can go book shopping or something tomorrow." Lovino pats Feliciano on the back. "Google searches, sort of thing."
Feliciano mumbles "Thanks, Vino," burrowing his face into his older brother's shirt.
"You'll do okay," Lovino replies, and Feliciano tries to believe him.