Ludwig's phone rang. It was at his ear in an instant.
"Can you make it?"
"Yeah, told her I'm going to Kiel for the weekend to visit some old friends."
"Why couldn't you just tell her you're coming here? Spending a weekend with your brother isn't suspicious."
"Don't want her popping in to bring us lunch or something. It's the kind of thing she would do."
There was a shuffling on the other end of the line, and muffled voices. After a moment Gilbert spoke again, his voice softer.
"I hate whispering on the phone. Makes me feel like I should feel guilty."
"Do you?"
"…No. It's not… we're not hurting anyone."
"…Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then."
…
Ludwig was buzzing with anticipation. He couldn't sit, he couldn't stand, he couldn't do anything productive, and he couldn't stay still. He ended up wandering from kitchen, to dining room, to living room, to dining room, to bathroom, to bedroom, back to dining room again just in case the doorbell rang. He wanted to be right by the door when Gilbert arrived, so he wouldn't waste any time letting him in.
Half an hour, back and forth, back and forth. And a half hour more.
After an hour and a quarter, Ludwig had finally set himself down in the dining room chair closest to the entryway, impatiently tapping his feet on the floor, when at last the sound he'd been waiting for came.
He shot up and pressed the button to let Gilbert in downstairs, and flung open his own door. Finally, Gilbert made his way to the top of the stairs and bustled in with a duffel bag over his shoulder.
"You're late."
"I know, Elsi wouldn't let me leave the house without triple-checking I'd packed enough underwear and toothpaste. Honestly, I swear she thinks she's my mother sometimes."
"That would make a horribly incestuous love-triangle."
Ludwig shut the door behind his brother and hovered over him as he slipped off his shoes and set his bag down. He wished he would look at him; he wanted to kiss him right now, wanted to feel him this very moment. The wait had been torture.
"Ugh, mom-sex thoughts. Not cool, Lutz. Remember, I knew her better than you—"
Gilbert turned to face his brother and was immediately met with an open-mouthed kiss, cutting off his words and thoughts.
The temperature of the air around them rose steadily as Ludwig pushed his brother further back into the room. They bumped into the table and Ludwig hoisted Gilbert up to sit on it, positioning himself between his legs as they gripped each other closer, harder.
Ludwig fumbled desperately with Gilbert's shirt before managing to pull it off. He buried his face in Gilbert's neck, sucking and biting, soaking up his brother's perfectly needy sounds as his nails scrabbled at Ludwig's broad back.
"You know," panted Gilbert, "as sexy as it would be for you to fuck me right here, don't you—mmnn, think that, uh—nngh—the bed might be, ah, a bit more comfy?"
Ludwig lifted him wordlessly as Gilbert's legs wrapped around his waist and carried him to the bedroom, lips never leaving his brother's skin, even when he deposited him on the mattress.
Gilbert reveled in the strong arms around him, in the soft lips sending shivers down his spine, in the sheer thrill that their unions had become for him. His kid brother, all grown up, worshiping his body with hands and mouth. Ludwig, such a strong body to hold, to press against, bringing him to a pleasure more unbearable and pure than winter air against his bare teeth, setting every nerve on edge.
Ludwig took him, impatient and urgent, as though he were afraid Gilbert would disappear before they could reach the climax. The heat, the rough need of it, left Gilbert feeling raw in the painful, satisfying way of an itch scratched till it bleeds, and tears streamed down his face in pure bliss.
…
The warmth of a mouth on his stomach, chest, shoulder, soothed Gilbert as he gazed out the open window. The sunlight hitting the foot of the bed was almost too bright to look at, and the piece of sky visible through the glass was so blue it looked like a painted backdrop.
The nipping of teeth pulled him reluctantly from his contented daze.
He looked down at his brother. His face was passive as he laid his head on Gilbert's chest, but his eyes glowed with an inner smile.
God, they're as blue as the sky. Maybe bluer.
"What are you thinking about?"
Gilbert could feel his brother's deep voice rumble through his skin.
He lost himself gazing into those too-blue eyes. Finally he whispered, "How perfect you are."
The glow in those eyes grew brighter.
A smile played at Gilbert's lips. "Are you sure we're related?"
A chuckle reverberated through Ludwig's chest. "We must be—you got the perfection gene too."
Gilbert sighed, wanting to keep this warmth inside him as long as possible. "Pity. If we weren't, we could stay together, just like this, forever." He smiled at the thought of never leaving this bed, of his brother holding and loving him so very thoroughly, always.
Ludwig leaned in closer and nuzzled at his jaw. "We could still stay together forever, if you want," he whispered.
Gilbert leaned away to look at his brother with a slight frown. "Don't be ridiculous, Ludwig. Just relax and enjoy it." He settled himself down further against his brother's side.
Ludwig said nothing. Eventually he wrapped his arms around Gilbert's waist, holding him just a little too tight to be relaxed.
…
The day passed, and the next, in a whirl of heat and skin and sheets. They lost track of time. They ate when they were hungry, slept when they were tired, and made love in between, on the bed, on the couch, on the kitchen counter, against the wall, in the shower.
On the third day, as the sun streamed in through the window, Gilbert suggested they go for a walk.
They went to a nearby park, staying on the paths beneath the trees to escape the midday heat.
Ludwig might have preferred to stay at home, encased in the bubble of his and his brother's newfound world.
Gilbert questioning him about work forced him to come reluctantly back to reality.
"It's not—what I expected," he admitted with a sigh. "I was working to get the new position for so long, but now that I'm there—I don't know what I'm working for any more. I guess—I guess I thought it would give me more influence, allow me to actually accomplish something, shape the projects we're working on… I used to be so passionate about it, you know, back when I started. Planning the city of the future. There was still so much potential in Berlin—I felt like I could do anything, make a real difference. I had big ideas. But now… I'm not excited by it anymore. Just demoralized. I've seen the way it goes. I've become nothing but a pencil-pusher, you know?" He scuffed his toe at a pebble in frustration. "A sellout."
"Don't say that. You still care."
"Caring isn't enough, sometimes."
"Well, why don't you quit? Find somewhere else, where you're needed?"
He sighed. "Where would that be? I need the stability if I'm going to pay off my apartment. I don't know." He sighed again. "I feel stuck."
"Hm. You and me both."
Ludwig didn't ask. He knew what his brother meant.
They walked on in silence, save the drone of construction work from across the street.
I feel stuck.
Why don't you quit.
I feel stuck.
Somewhere you're needed.
The words echoed round Ludwig's head.
"You know… I was serious," he ventured. "About what I said before."
"About what?"
"About… us staying together." His voice was soft. He felt self-conscious, even if it was only the occasional jogger, biker, or yoga mom with a stroller passing them by.
Gilbert made an exasperated sound. "Ludwig—"
"No, just listen to me!" he whispered more urgently. "Why not? I'm not happy where I am, you're clearly not happy, your marriage is falling apart—"
"Who said it's falling apart?" Gilbert objected.
Ludwig rolled his eyes. "Right, because you'd absolutely be sleeping with me if you were happy with your wife."
"Not being happy is not the same as everything falling apart."
Ludwig huffed. "But why should we settle for unhappiness? We could go away together, live together, no one would have to know—"
"I thought you just said you didn't want to leave your job because you have to pay off the apartment!"
"Screw the apartment! Gilbert, this could be the solution, to both our problems—"
"I'm not listening to this bull crap. Just, stop spoiling things."
"Spoiling? How am I spoiling anything? I'm just saying—I don't get it, don't you like being with me?"
"Of course I—" Gilbert shot him a look, then sighed. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't. But Ludwig, that doesn't mean—mm. I just… I still love you as my little brother."
Ludwig wanted to say something. He wanted to say a million things, but nothing seemed able to leave his mouth. He finally settled on an annoyed growl.
"So what, are you going to just toss me aside when you're finished with your thrilling illicit affair?" It came out a little more spitefully than he'd thought it would.
Gilbert gave him a hard look. "No, because you're my brother. I wouldn't do that to you."
Ludwig looked away. After a moment he said, "Let's go back. I'm hungry," even though he wasn't.
"Alright," Gilbert said, a bit too lightly.
The walk back was awkward. Ludwig was brooding, and Gilbert was playing innocent, pointing out funny graffiti or hipsters with weird hair as they walked, as if trying to snap his brother out of it. Ludwig wasn't having any of it.
When they finally got to Ludwig's Gilbert claimed he wanted currywurst and French fries rather than the salad makings in the fridge, so he went out in search of some to bring back. Ludwig settled down at the table with a beer in hand to wait.
…
On that day at exactly 14:43, one Roderich Edelstien was to be found standing outside the entrance to the S-Bahn stop Julius-Leber Brücke in the middle of Schöneberg, dressed meticulously in an eggplant-colored suit. He was looking back and forth between the iPhone in his hand and his surroundings, squinting uncertainly up at the street signs.
He seemed to have made up his mind when he stowed the phone in his pocket and turned towards his chosen street, but then he stopped short. Something had caught the corner of his eye.
A head of untidy platinum hair, a pale face, a familiar gait.
He twisted his head round for a better look. There was only one person that could be—but he couldn't get a good glimpse of his face, and the man had already disappeared behind a group of Turkish women with their shopping bags.
Roderich frowned, staring the way the man had gone. But after a moment he seemed to shake off the uncanny sighting and put it from his mind, and started off in the opposite direction.
…
The front door buzzer sounded in Ludwig's apartment. He pressed the button to unlock it, surprised Gilbert had been so quick.
He opened his door, listening to the footsteps slowly make their way up the stairs. It didn't quite register that his brother usually liked to speed up steps two at a time.
But the head that appeared over the railing did not belong to his brother.
"Herr Edelstein!" he exclaimed in surprise, heart kicking up to twice its normal rate, cold sweat breaking over his neck. "How—why—" Finally he remembered his manners. "What a surprise! What brings you here?"
Roderich smiled as he mopped his brow with a handkerchief. "Ah, Herr Beilschmidt, I hope you don't mind me dropping in like this—I knew I would be in the area and thought I might bring you those CDs I promised!"
Ludwig blinked. CDs? What CDs? And then he remembered, an offhand comment made at the luncheon they'd shared, about a pianist Ludwig admired—or rather had said he admired, since she was the only classical pianist he knew—and Roderich offering to make him some copies of unreleased and rare recordings of her, as Roderich had had the pleasure of meeting the famous musician in person and had gotten his hands on the recordings somehow. Ludwig had assumed it was an empty promise, but perhaps Roderich felt obliged to follow through as a gesture of goodwill after the slightly awkward turn their lunch conversation had taken.
"Uh—oh! Yes, um, thank you so much, that's very considerate."
"Oh, not at all. It's always a delight to share such things with a fellow enthusiast." Roderich pulled a few CD cases with hand-made labels from his bag and handed them over.
Ludwig stood dumbly, CDs in hand. He suddenly realized Roderich probably expected to be invited in.
"Uh… I would invite you in for coffee, only, I was, um…" Only Gilbert could be back any moment. "I was about to run out. Glad you caught me though." Suddenly something struck Ludwig as quite odd. "Uh, how did you say you got this address again?"
"Oh, I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of looking you up to see how I could best get the recordings to you."
"Oh, right. Well, very kind of you, I appreciate it."
"Any time. Well, I suppose I should let you go then."
"Yes. Ah, I'm sorry, I wish we had some time to discuss, ah—" He gestured vaguely with the CDs. He'd suddenly forgotten the pianist's name.
"Oh yes, well, perhaps another time, at Els—your brother's house or some such."
The reference to Gilbert made Ludwig's cheeks heat even more. But finally, Roderich was turning to go.
Yes, go, go, go… Just, leave, and Gilbert please don't be back, don't come back yet…
Ludwig cringed when Roderich turned at the top of the stairs. "Ah, Ludwig, by the way… Have you seen Gilbert recently?"
Ludwig was sure his heart stopped beating for a second. "Gilbert?" he managed to get out of his dry throat. "Um, no, isn't he in, uh, Kiel?"
"Oh, right, yes, yes. Of course." Roderich sounded distracted.
"…Why?"
"Ah, no matter. When is he supposed to be back?"
"Um… you'd probably do better to ask Elizaveta…"
"Yes, of course. Well. Till next time, then!"
"Yes, thank you again!"
And with that Roderich was finally gone down the stairs.
Ludwig closed the door and slumped down at the table, exhausted, and took a long draught of his beer.
…
The man in the eggplant suit stepped out of the front door of the apartment building and crossed the street, thinking how much he hated public transportation and wishing he'd brought his car.
These thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of another figure loping up the sidewalk opposite, two plates of currywurst and fries balanced in his hands.
White-blond hair, pale skin, carefree strides. There was no mistaking him.
Roderich Edelstein watched, dumbstruck, as his ex-wife's husband arrived at Ludwig's apartment door, pressed the buzzer for the flat he himself had been in only minutes before, and disappeared inside the building.
...
Translation/notes:
Currywurst is a popular fast food in Berlin–basically like a sausage/hot dog with curry ketchup on it.
The S-Bahn and U-Bahn are the Berlin subway/rail system, with the U-Bahn tending to be more underground and the S-Bahn above ground while also usually covering more distance between stops.
Herr: Mr.