Two Years Later
Ludwig rang the doorbell of the grand house, worrying he had gotten the address wrong. With its gate and columned porch, this place hardly seemed like it could be home to his brother.
The door opened and a woman in a white spring dress appeared. Her wavy brown hair nearly reached her waist, and her green eyes sparkled with delight as they took in the figure on the doorstep.
"Ah, you must be Ludwig! Come in, come in!" She ushered him inside.
"And… you're Elizaveta?"
"Oh, please, call me Elsi—it's what all my German friends call me. Ludwig! Well, I'm so pleased to finally meet the legendary brother!"
"Legendary?"
"Only because I've heard of you, but never saw you with my own eyes!" She laughed brightly.
Ludwig blushed slightly. He felt a little guilty that he was only meeting his brother's wife now, close to a year after their wedding. He wondered if Elsi thought that was terribly rude of him. But it wasn't as though he hadn't had good reason; he'd been on an important business trip to the south—meeting with contractors in Munich—at the time of the ceremony, and if he'd missed the trip he wouldn't have been promoted. And the new position kept him busier than ever, so it wasn't easy to make it out to Potsdam.
"Well come along; your brother's out back."
Elizaveta led him down a hallway with tastefully-hung paintings and elaborate moldings. He caught sight of an airy kitchen before being brought into an elegant white sitting room with large sun windows. They stepped through the French doors hung with gauzy curtains and out onto a large patio.
Potted plants ringed the perimeter, brimming with elegant flowers Ludwig couldn't name. They were all in shades of white and palest lavender and blue. At the edge of the patio began the lush lawn, which sloped gently down to a line of weeping willows along an inlet of the large lake, whose shimmering surface was visible through further rings of trees.
The willows were blooming, bursting with snowy flowers that reminded Ludwig of cotton plants he'd seen in some movie about the American South.
A breeze rustled through the languorous branches, and as they shifted Ludwig noticed a figure standing among the trees, almost blending into them with his white shirt and pale blond hair.
Gilbert turned and smiled, then made his way up the long lawn to the patio.
"Ludwig! At last!" He clapped his brother on the arm. "It's good to see you, little brother."
Ludwig smiled back. "You too. This is quite the place you've got."
"Isn't it? I've got Elsi to thank—her father bought it back in the '90s when they moved from Hungary." Gilbert smiled and put an arm around his wife.
"Well, only after Father had such success with the record company. We weren't always rich," added Elsi with a self-conscious smile.
They sat on the patio and Elsi brought out a lunch of fennel salad, white asparagus, bread and cheese. The conversation was polite; Ludwig asked about the company, and Elsi gave an enthusiastic explanation of all the labels they owned. They were mostly classical, Ludwig noted: something his brother hadn't mentioned.
He also noted that Gilbert was mostly silent for that part of the conversation. Ludwig wondered if his brother felt left out of his wife's domain; he hadn't gotten the job he'd wanted with her company, after all, but then ended up marrying into the business anyway.
After lunch Gilbert suggested he give Ludwig a tour of the house and garden. He pointed out the couple of boats docked in the inlet that they owned, and showed Ludwig Elizaveta's rose garden: all pink and white varieties.
The house was even more impressive than Ludwig had originally imagined; the kitchen was newly furnished with stainless steel appliances, the dining room was impressively grand (only for formal use, he was told), and there was a room solely dedicated to Elsi's instrument and sheet-music collection.
"It was her last husband who got her into all this stuff. He's a failed concert pianist, but he got a position high up in the company. That's how they met; Elsi only became chairwoman after they divorced, when her father stepped down. It's weird if you ask me, that she still works with her ex. Sometimes she lets him come over and play the grand. He's sentimentally attached, apparently." Gilbert pointed to the concert-size, antique-looking grand piano in the corner.
Gilbert led Ludwig upstairs to the massive master bedroom and spacious adjoining bathroom, outfitted all in glittering marble, then through three more elegantly furnished bedrooms, each made up for guests.
"Does anyone ever use these?" asked Ludwig, admiring a four-poster covered in fine white linens.
"Rarely," said Gilbert, leaning against a window frame and squinting out into the sunlit yard. He seemed distracted.
"So much space," mused Ludwig quietly.
"Yeah. All wasted on us two."
Ludwig fixed him with a quizzical look. "Don't you like living here?"
Gilbert shifted. "Like it? Sure. I mean, it would be pretty ungrateful of me to say I didn't like it. I never thought I'd live in such luxury."
Ludwig came up next to his brother. "But… it's not really you, is it?"
Gilbert simply met his eyes, then looked away.
The late afternoon sun raking in through the window struck Gilbert's face and hair in a way that seemed to make him shine like the Meissen porcelain statues gracing the tables in the sitting room downstairs. He was so white, and bright, and clean, like everything else in the house. Ludwig had the odd thought that his brother could almost disappear into his surroundings, become one more decoration to grace the halls.
Something about his features, outlined in afternoon gold, was breathtakingly beautiful, and maybe a little melancholy. Ludwig felt a nostalgia for something he couldn't place, like missing something he'd never known.
"Are you happy?" he asked softly.
Gilbert's eyes met his again, guarded. "I'm… not unhappy," he said carefully.
Something clicked in Ludwig's memory, and his heart quickened. He wondered if his brother remembered, too.
"That's not the same thing, remember?"
Gilbert's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
Ludwig swallowed down his disappointment and looked away. "Never mind."
He walked over to the bed and sat down. The mattress was luxuriously soft.
"Are you going to start working again, do you think?" He looked back up at his brother, silhouetted in the window.
Gilbert considered him for a moment, then came to sit on the bed next to him. He shrugged. "Yeah, I'd like to, I guess. You know, I still compose, sometimes."
"Yeah? Maybe you can sign a contract with your wife," Ludwig teased lightly.
"Tch. She only does classical music and the occasional avant-garde weird thing."
"Hm. I was surprised to hear that—I thought you'd try for a job with a more… I don't know, 'happening' company? You know, whatever the 'cool kids' are listening to?" he teased.
"Yeah, well, I didn't get the job, so, doesn't matter much, does it?"
"Mm."
Gilbert flopped down on his back on the bed. He gazed up at his brother. "You're disappointed in me, aren't you? Think I'm wasting myself here."
Ludwig didn't answer, simply looked down at his brother, amazed how his hair looked nearly the same shade of white as the duvet, how his eyes almost gleamed red in the sunlight flooding the room.
"Well, you'd be right I guess. Don't know what I'm doing half the time. Guess some things don't change."
"You've changed," said Ludwig before he could stop himself.
"Yeah? Is that a good or a bad thing?" Gilbert held his gaze with a small smile that could have been a grimace, as if he expected he knew the answer.
Ludwig realized he'd slowly been leaning more and more over his brother. He brought a hand down to support himself. Gilbert was still looking straight at him, and there was a strange feeling in his chest he couldn't place.
Before he could think up an answer, there was a knock on the door and in stepped Elsi.
Ludwig straightened up immediately. He wasn't sure why his heart was hammering like a criminal caught red-handed. Gilbert simply rolled over so he could look up at his wife.
"Oh, there you two are! Sorry to disturb your brother time—I was just wondering, Ludwig, if you'd be joining us for dinner? You're welcome to, of course—"
"Ah, no," said Ludwig, rising. "Thank you, but I really think I ought to be getting back. I still have some work to get done."
"All right then, I'll get you your jacket."
"Thank you."
Elizaveta flashed a brilliant white smile and disappeared down the hall.
Ludwig made to follow her, but a grip on his wrist held him back. He turned to find his brother looking at him with pleading eyes.
"I want to see you again soon, Ludwig. Alright? No more putting it off month after month."
Ludwig blinked. "Alright," he said slowly.
Gilbert let him go with a short nod. "Good."
The couple saw Ludwig off at the door. Elsi waved, but Gilbert simply stood there looking after his brother.
…
"So, where is it?"
"In Schöneberg."
"Nice. Do you like it?"
"Yes, I've been saving up ever since I got the promotion. Commute's a lot better too, since the office moved to Kreuzberg."
"Well, when can I come see it?"
Ludwig glanced around at the stacks of boxes crowding his new flat. He shifted his grip on the receiver. "Whenever you like, I guess, but I won't be properly moved in for some time."
"Great, I'm free tomorrow. I'll be there at four, alright?"
"At four? Uh, well—"
"What, you're not working on a Sunday are you?"
"No, no… Four would work."
"Good. See you then, little brother."
"Right, okay. Bye."
…
"So, this is it."
"This is it. I know it's not anything compared to your palace, but, I think I can make it home."
Gilbert paused, letting his eyes wander around the room that Ludwig had designated as dining room and workspace.
"Gotta admit, I'm a little jealous."
"Jealous? Of this place?"
"Yeah. Y'know I still don't feel right in that house, even after practically a year. I can't make it my own. Elsi decides on all the decorating, the flowers, the linens, etc. etc. I kinda doubt I could ever feel at home in a place like that, though."
"Have you… talked to Elsi about it?"
Gilbert laughed. "Elsi? Nah. She's a powerhouse, that woman. She cooks, she cleans, she entertains, and on top of all that she's one tough businesswoman. Poster-girl for the 'women can have it all' team. And everything is perfect the way it is as far as she's concerned." He looked over at Ludwig. "You're the only one I can talk to. You're all I got."
Ludwig looked back at his brother. His throat felt odd, with Gilbert looking at him like that, that wistful expression on his face. "Funny, isn't it?"
"What's funny?"
"Just… that's what family's for, isn't it?" he blurted out. "The last person you turn to, when you haven't got anyone left… that's what you said."
"I said that? Huh. How maudlin of me."
"You said it that night, when you were visiting me… remember?"
"…No."
"You don't?"
Ludwig suddenly realized they'd been moving slowly towards each other. His brother was still looking into his face.
"We were talking, on the couch, and you said… that…"
Suddenly Gilbert placed a finger on Ludwig's lips, silencing him. He was very close now, staring straight into his brother's face. He was breathing heavily enough that Ludwig could see his chest rise and fall. Ludwig realized his breaths were coming heavy, too. They must be hot and moist against Gilbert's finger.
Gilbert seemed to search for something in his face, for just a moment, before his hands were on either side of Ludwig's head, grabbing him and pulling him close, crushing their mouths together.
Ludwig's hands were gripping his brother's sides before he told them what to do, hungrily pulling in this hot soft mouth against his own.
For a few muffled, stifling moments they struggled to push themselves together, until suddenly Gilbert broke away, panting.
He stumbled back a few steps. "Ah, I, I don't, that wasn't—"
But Ludwig was already stepping back in, reaching for his brother again.
Gilbert tried to step away and bumped against Ludwig's desk. "I mean, we can't…"
But he threaded his fingers through Ludwig's hair when his brother leaned over him, and eagerly found his mouth again.
They had sunk to the floor by the next time they pulled apart. Gilbert's eyes looked hazy, confused.
"Do you…"
It was Ludwig's turn to raise a finger to his brother's lips. He didn't want him to talk, shatter the moment. He simply wanted to feel his hard, lithe body against his own, his long musician's fingers pressed into his flesh.
A slight moan escaped Gilbert's mouth as their lips locked again, searching hands making quick work of shirts and belts.
Gilbert's hands on his chest sent a thrill through Ludwig's skin, and he worked his mouth down, over long pale neck, strong shoulders. Gilbert was panting in his arms, gasping and gorgeous, this strange creature that was his brother. How had he ever thought of this unknowable beauty as an occasional nuisance?
Ludwig realized he had never really known his brother. And so he discovered him, with hands and mouth, and left no inch untouched.
...
Translation/notes:
Potsdam is a city just outside of Berlin with a posh reputation. Schöneberg and Kreuzberg are neighborhoods in Berlin.
Meissen is a famous Saxon porcelain manufacturer that dates back to the 18th century.