TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS PART: flashbacks to rape
It is Sunday, 6:18 PM, two days, eighteen hours, and twenty-three minutes after It happened.
Feliciano has spent nearly the entire afternoon doing research online, and yesterday scouring bookstores with Lovino, and the morning reading the books, and he feels completely overwhelmed and exhausted and there are so many things the internet and the support forums and the books say he has to do and be and say and he kind of wants to yell into a pillow for a while.
Lots of things, that need to be organized, and how can Feliciano—
He has it. Make lists, that's what Ludwig told him once, you need lists or you'll mix yourself up so please put milk on the grocery list after you drink the last of it. Feliciano nods to himself, pulling a legal pad over and tapping the pen against his teeth.
Lists. Okay. List of? Hm.
Tap, tap.
Things to talk about with Ludwig. There. Okay. Simple.
Prosecution- Feliciano pauses, then underlines it.
If he wants to talk or not about what happened- Feliciano's fingers shake a little on that one, and the writing goes crooked.
Going back to work
How can I help/how can Gilbert/Al/Lovino/Arthur/Marianne/Mattie help
Boundaries- Feliciano underlines that one a lot, then rips the page out of the pad and stares at it.
Five things. Just five. Five that unfold and unfold into thousands of ways it could go wrong, ways Feliciano could make it go wrong (as if you didn't already when you didn't go with him- no, no he will not think that) until he realizes that he's holding the paper so hard it's crinkling at the edges and he should stop because the pen he used is runny and the list is important and he doesn't want to smudge it. There's a clatter from the kitchen, bowl in the sink, probably, where Gilbert and Ludwig are doing the cooking.
After dinner, he will talk to Ludwig about the list. He will.
Feliciano clutches the sheet of paper as he crawls under the covers. From the living room come the sounds of muted squabbling as Gilbert settles on the couch and Lovino on the air mattress, and in the bedroom there's the faint sounds of the street through the partly-open window. And the shower.
It turns off eventually, and Ludwig comes in wearing long sleeves again and settles on the bed. Feliciano doesn't think he'll sleep, he didn't much last night, and he scoots closer to Ludwig.
"Um. Lulu?"
That's a private nickname, because Ludwig gets embarrassed if Feliciano uses it in public, and it means that what they say here is private private private.
Ludwig nods.
"I— uh, I've got some stuff to talk to you about."
"Yes?"
Just look at the list, or you'll mess yourself up— "Do you want to prosecute the—" —and swallow, hard, the forum said don't get angry— "—them?"
"Yes."
"Because you know they'll ask you a lot of questions and not all of them will be nice and you'll have to talk about It but also considering the evidence they'd get put in jail so—"
"I know." Ludwig stares at his knees, drawn up to his chest. "Still want to."
"Okay so could you hand me that pencil?" Feliciano catches Ludwig's look. "I need to write this down."
He gets the pencil and scribbles ok right under prosecution. "And. Um. This one's sort of related but do you want to talk with me or anyone about what happened? Because it's okay if you don't want to now but—"
The way Ludwig's posture stiffens and closes up is answer enough. Feliciano pencilsno under if he wants to talk or not about what happened.
"But you know if you know any way I or Gilbert or Vino or Alfred or anyone else can help you need to say it even if it's awkward, okay?"
Nod.
"So... ?"
"Think—" Ludwig ducks his head a little. "I think just staying... staying close is good. For now."
Feliciano pencils that in. Going back to work, he decides, can wait until they get Ludwig outside in the first place, and here goes.
Boundaries.
"Lulu? These might get kind of, um, awkward but I need to ask, okay?"
"Okay."
"Is it okay if I touch you?" He sees the look on Ludwig's face and backtracks quickly. "Not like that just like baths and touching your hair and stuff not like sex touching just cuddling and stuff. Is that okay?"
Ludwig un-tenses a little. "Yes. Except baths."
"Um. Is it okay if I ask why?"
"I don't— I don't want to. Um. Not have clothes—"
"Okay so no naked and no sex. Got it." Feliciano adds those in under boundaries, and then "What about hugs?"
"Those are okay. But tell me."
"All right. And um, kisses—"
"Prefer not on the mouth."
"So just on your face?"
Another nod. Feliciano sets the pencil down on the nightstand along with the list because that's enough for tonight, and quietly says "We can talk more in the morning with Gilbert and Lovino about prosecuting, all right?"
There's a soft noise of agreement, and Feliciano turns out the light and lets Ludwig curl up against him, and wraps his arms around him and whispers "Good night."
It is- Ludwig doesn't know exactly what time it is, somewhere in the grey between Sunday night and Monday morning, and he doesn't know because he is not entirely awake. He is, however, dreaming, and in his dream-
-in his dream, It is happening.
Again.
It is happening, same as last time, and same as last time Ludwig can't stop it or fight them or make noise and one of them is twisting his arm behind his back with one hand and holding his throat with the other and Ludwig can barely move and and and-
-it hurts, It hurts-
-and there's a voice but it's not one of theirs it's Feliciano's what is he doing here-
"-wig? Ludwig are you okay? Oh my God Ludwig are you all right— I—"
Ludwig is brought back to reality with a sharp gasp and the realization that there are sheets underneath him and Feliciano's round eyes about half a foot from his own and Feliciano's voice fills the grey stillness and drives the interior of a car from his mind (although not far, never far, it's been there since It and will it never leave).
"Did— did you have a nightmare?"
Ludwig pauses, trying to breathe enough to think clearly, and nods.
Then there are warm arms around him and Feliciano stroking his hair and breathing is a little easier now and Ludwig tries to relax.
It's not working.
He lies back down anyway, thinking breathe breathe just breathe you'll be all rightand trying to follow his own advice. Over Feliciano's shoulder, which moves as his arms continue stroking Ludwig's back, Ludwig sees the alarm clock glowing red.
It is Monday, 2:47 AM, three days, two hours, and fifty-two minutes after It happened, and Ludwig rests his head on Feliciano's shoulder and does not really sleep for a very long time.