I really need some feedback, guys!
I'm starting a new fic sometime in January and I want to hear your thoughts on it. I'd like to do a Rochu fic and it will be based on a true story and actual events, but in a different way. This will be based on a personal story. I know the basics of the story and I even know the title. I've known the title for three months. That is how long I've wanted to write this but I knew that if I started that one I would abandon this one. The fic is set in 90's-present day. I may change that though.
Anyways, I've finished writing this story! So this story WILL be completed sometime in March.
I'm open to suggestions for my next fic, too. Thank you!
"Stop asking to more food!"
God, he was relentless. He had asked for more food every time he was given his portions. And every day, he was met with the same answer. No. No more food.
And he wasn't an idiot. That was very clear from what had happened a month ago when they had first come to take in the Vargas family. There was something intelligent about the boy, he just didn't show it. And maybe that was part of it, too. He acted stupid to be doubted.
But he wouldn't do that. He hadn't once doubted the boy.
"What is your name?" The boy pushed his hand against the metal bars and looked up. His eyes were very bright, though the light was dim. The taller man didn't know what to say. He didn't want to talk to him. He really wasn't one to talk. But those eyes were pulling him in.
"Ludwig," he said. He brushed his hair away from his face and gripped his sword. The boys face brightened and he slid down the bars of his cell. His legs crossed and he rocked back and forth slightly. "You keep calling me Klein, but that isn't my name. I thought you'd want to know it since you see me every single day," the boy said.
Ludwig looked away in forced disgust. "I do not care to your name." In all actuality, he hadn't thought about this boy having a name. He heard a soft sigh behind him and felt a hand on his shoulder.
In one quick motion, he was grasping the boys shirt and pulling him up towards the bars, forcing the boys dark brown eyes to meet his own blue ones.
He opened his mouth to speak, but words wouldn't come. It wasn't that something had taken his breath away. It was just that he had never had to face anyone like this. Nobody would dare touch him under any circumstances. He observed this boy. He watched those eyes, searching for signs of something that wasn't there. Some sort of evil or corruption.
Ludwig grasped the shirt tighter, lifting the boy up just slightly so he had to stand on his tiptoes. "Do not touch again." The boys eyes widened. "And do not look this way like you deserve pity. You . . . you are filth. And I know this is an act. You are not clever as you think."
The boy squirmed and grasped at Ludwigs hands, digging into the rough flesh with what little nails he had. He made small noises in the back of his throat as he tried to push away. Tears brimmed in his eyes as the hand on his shirt made its way up to his neck.
"I am now asking your name?" Ludwig curled his fingers around the boys neck, raising his eyebrows when he saw that his fingers and his thumb nearly touched. The boy shut his eyes and said, "Feliciano. It's Feliciano. Please don't kill me."
Feliciano? His name was Feliciano? That was an interesting name. Different than any of the names he had heard in Germany. He let go of Feliciano and scooted away from the bars to avoid being touched again. "I am not killing you. That is not my place. You do have a trial today. And it is their choice if you live and leave today.
Feliciano sank to the floor again and buried his face in his arms. He didn't want to die. He would do anything to live. He wanted to see Grandpa Roma and Lovi again. He missed them so much. He had a general idea where Grandpa Roma was, but it wasn't clear where Lovino had been taken if he had even been taken at all. Hopefully he was still in Barcelona.
He smiled as he daydreamed about seeing them again. A bubbly giggle escaped his lips and he covered his mouth to muffle it. But Ludwig had noticed. He examined the boy with that same disgusted look. "Why do you laugh?"
Feliciano stopped and looked away quickly. He bit his lip and tried to forget the cold eyes that were watching him. It was as if he was keeping some little secret that Ludwig was too daft to know about. The German stood and took out the keys to Feliciano's cell, opening the door with a loud creak. He took one step in and lifted the boy up again. Tears threatened to spill from Feliciano's eyes.
Ludwig glared at Feliciano and tightened his grip on the already crinkled shirt. "Damn you. You . . . you . . . ugh." Ludwig dropped Feliciano to the floor and pressed a boot to the boys chest. "It is not fair." He tried to sound angry, but something about his words was melancholy. "Someone like you gets to smile. There is everything happening, and you are as happy as you please. I do what I am supposed to. I do what God would want. You are filth. What gives you the right to smile? To laugh? I am angry hearing that laugh every day." Ludwig lifted Feliciano up by his neck again. "If I hear it more, then I . . . I . . ." He paused and Feliciano watched his eyes as he tried to pull out of the strong grip.
"Are you s-saying that you a-aren't ha-happy, Ludwig?"
A hard smack. Not a punch. But an open-palmed slap across his already flushed cheek. Feliciano let out a quiet ouch as the tears travelled in crooked paths down his face. Ludwig released him and left his cell, locking it quickly behind him. He looked pained by the entire situation. He didn't mean for it to go that way, but Feliciano had seen right through him. He didn't know what to do.
He pushed the keys in his pocket and opened the door to go upstairs. He tried to shove the sound of those cries out of his mind, but he couldn't. He grit his teeth and looked back at the cell. "Feliciano . . . "
There was a stifled cry followed by a, "yes?"
Ludwig rubbed the back of his neck. "If you have to come back after the trial, I will have them give more food for now on."
.
Feliciano looked around the room, then down at the box. Not many people were at the trial. Just a few in the church pews who all sort of reminded him of Antonio. He wondered what happened to the man. He hoped he hadn't been taken in. And if he did, he hoped he had been taken in with Lovino. He didn't want to think of Lovino all alone in a cell.
"Well, Feliciano? What say you? Do you admit that you and your family have been practicing Judaism? And you needn't worry. You will be returned to the bakery if you confess your sins. We do this to help you, you know. We want to save you from hell's fire. And your brother and grandfather as well. You are in no danger, truly. Though you may have to pay a small few fines to the church." The old man smiled, and Feliciano looked down again.
He inwardly smiled at the thought of the bakery and the life he could resume.
.
Ludwig watched the boy. Lie. Lie, Feliciano. He leaned forward in his seat and watched the boy. A few colourful rays of light from the stained-glass window shone on him, making him look pure and radiant. Ludwigs eyebrows furrowed and he looked down at his shoes. The Italian unfuriated him often. But when he didn't, there was something great about him.
"He's going to tell the truth, you know."
Ludwig turned to see someone beside him. They were looking down, though, and the face wasn't clear. It wasn't as if he had been in Barcelona for long, either. Definitely not long enough to recognize this face. He squinted and crossed his arms. "How do you know this?"
The man sighed. "I just know. And I'm very good at reading people. Why would you want this Jew to lie?" Ludwig flinched and grit his teeth. Who was this man? He scooted away slightly.
"I was not thinking that." He didn't know what else to say. But he wasn't going to confess to thinking that. The man let out a chuckle and leaned back. The chuckle sounded very forced and amost sad.
"But you were. And I want to know why."
Ludwig sighed and turned to the man finally. "Because," he gulped and his mouth felt dry. "Because he does not deserve death."
"Oh, that isn't true. Every Jew deserves to die."
"But not him, I feel. There is something I see in him."
"Yes? So you feel something for him?"
The colour drained from Ludwigs face. "Das ist nicht was ich sagte! Verdammt! Wer bist d-"
"Enough. Why do you care if he lives?"
Ludwig looked up at Feliciano and grimaced. Why did he care? He wasn't sure if he even knew why the boy deserved to live.
"I am doing this job for the world. For God's world. That boy is very happy. No, he is happiness. This seems awful, I know. But I think God sent him down to bring happiness. He is not harsh to me. He is kind, and I do not understand. Very kind and happy but how? Look where he is. He might die. I heard him laughing besides this. I do not understand."
The man frowned. "He won't die if he confesses. They'll charge him. They'll probably take his entire families money. But he'll live. What will you do without him, anyway? You've been watching him for about six weeks now. Do you wish to see him again?"
Ludwig nearly smiled at that, though it would have been a bitter smile. "No. He will not want to see me." Why was he telling a stranger this? He had no idea who this man was. But he felt like he could trust him, so he (stupidly) continued talking. "I was horrible. I am horrible. I feel angry and take it out on him. He does not deserve this, I know. I want to not feel anger. I want to not hurt him. It has been pushed into me, the things I know about Jews. I try to forget now, but it is hard. And then there is hell." Ludwig studied the cross at the alter in the catherdral. "I am confused. I do not want to go there. I want to live peaceful when I die. In heaven. But can I go to heaven if I care for the boy? If I came to love him?"
The man simply nodded in understanding. Ludwig continued.
"I think that is why I am horrible to him. To convince myself. But then, I think God would never forgive me for bad things happening to him. Bad things to one so kind and pure. He is one of the few angels sent down to Earth. He must be. I do not think God would forgive me for letting something bad happen to one of His angels. I am trying." Ludwigs voice was straining now. "I think he could make me happy. But I am horrible for him."
"Would you do anything to help him? Anything to make him happy?"
Ludwig glared at the man again, but finally nodded curtly. The man smiled faintly and said, "I think you and I need to talk later."
.
Feliciano looked down at his shoes, then at the priest. "Y-Yes," he said quietly. "I confess. I am guilty, and I am sorry." The last part was a lie, of course, but it sounded good, so Feliciano added it in.
The priest smiled and nodded at Feliciano. "Thank you, my child," he said.
Feliciano was given his freedom within the hour.
.
Lovino looked up at the catherdral. It looked as it had before, but there were more people sitting in the pews. He scanned the seats until his eyes stopped on one face.
Antonio. Antonio was here for his second trial. He gulped as he sat down. Who was that next to Antonio? It was the same blond with blue eyes. He squinted at him, then looked at Antonio again, who was looking back. He had a reassuring smile on his lips and his green eyes sparkled in the light of a candle on the wall.
Lovino wished he could give a tiny smile back, but that was difficult for him on a good day. So he gave a quick nod before he heard a door slam. He glared. That damn priest. He looked at the ground. He could hear some kind of rattling. Rattling metal of some sort. It was a chilling sound, too. Lovino's eyes flickered up.
A grin spread across his cheeks and he nearly jumped up.
"Grandpa Roma! Mi sei mancato! Ho pensato che non avrei visto di nuovo!" He stifled a cry. "Ti amo! Non potro mai las-"
"Mio Lovi!" Grandpa Roma pulled on his chains, which were held by three large men who struggled to keep the older man away from Lovino. Lovino let out a gasp at the sight of his grandfather being restrained by the guards. He looked desperately to Antonio, though he knew he could do nothing about this.
They sat Grandpa Roma in a corner and he no longer fought. He did as he was told for now. He looked very different from the Grandpa Roma Lovino remembered. His eye was swollen, his forearm's had large bruises, and his neck and wrists had the burns and cuts that Lovino's did. He was skinnier, too. Lovino looked down at his own body. Was he skinnier? He looked up at Antonio and could see him nodding. How was that bastard so good at reading minds?
"Lovino Vargas. Roma Vargas. I am giving you a second chance to confess. Each of you. Do you practice Judaism, Roma Vargas?" It was that goddamn priest. Lovino looked away, anger consuming him.
Roma looked away as Lovino did before answering, "No. I am not Jewish. I was. But I am not anymore." There were a few sighs and gasps from the crowd, as there always were. Augustine's eyes were gleaming red. "Roma Vargas, are you sure?"
Roma nodded.
"So be it. Lovino Vargas, does your family continue to practice Judaism?" God, he hated the mans voice. He grit his teeth and looked away from those eyes before saying, "No. And there is no need to ask if I am sure of my answer. I know I'm sure."
Augustine's lips twitched at the comment and he looked out at the people in the crowds. Antonio's eyes were shining, but not in the way they were before. They were glossy and had lost the light they held. Lovino's eyes widened as he wondered what was wrong. Antonio shook his head slightly and gave Lovino the same reassuring smile, but it faltered when he took in a visibly shaky breath.
"Lovino Vargas. Roma Vargas," Augustine began quietly, "You are both guilty of heresy. Feliciano Vargas has denounced you both as well as himself. He is free to go, though he will be paying a large sum for his crimes. As for you both." Augustine's eyes flashed red again. "You knew the punishment for your crimes. You are both sentenced to burn at the stake in three months. May God have mercy on your souls and may you spend this time repenting. Dismissed."
Lovino stared up at the priest, his eyes wide and his mouth open. The priest walked out, but he was still staring at the same spot. The words rang out again and again in his head. Sentenced to burn at the stake. Sentenced to burn. Sentenced to burn. To burn at the stake. To burn.
Lovino thought he would feel tears, thought he would cry out, but he made no movements and made no sounds. His eyelids fluttered and the entire room seemed silent, though he could tell Grandpa Roma was yelling from the way his mouth moved. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and the vision of his grandfather breaking away from the guards and moving towards him became blurry. He heard a few words that echoed.
Not . . . Lovi . . . you can't . . . please . . . but . . . just me . . .
His breath felt deeper and more ragged than before, and for a second he thought he might be dying. He felt hands on his cheeks. Warm, calloused hands. He looked up at Grandpa Roma and the world stopped.
Time froze.
And here, in this frame, it was just Grandpa Roma and Lovino. Lovino patted Grandpa Roma's hand and leaned into the touch. "Ti amo, Grandpa Roma. I love you so much. And I'm glad I got to see you before I go." His vision was blurry again and he felt tears covering his cheeks. Grandpa Roma let one single tear escape, but no more. He wiped away a few of Lovino's tears with his thumb, leaned in, and kissed his grandson on the forehead.
"Ti amo, Lovi, my beautiful figlio. I'm so proud of you. Forgive your brother, too, eh?" Grandpa Roma forced a smile. "He was only trying to do what was best. At least he is safe. And soon, we'll all meet again. Back in Italy." Lovino choked on a sob and flung his arms around his grandfather. Grandpa Roma patted Lovino's back gently as he left a warm kiss on the top of his head.
"Tell me about it, p-please. Tell me about Italy," Lovino said. He shut his eyes and buried his face into Grandpa Roma's shoulder. He could hear his grandfather force a chuckle. "Well, when we go back soon, we're going to find our cottage. The one next to the field of yellow flowers. With the humming bees. We're going to go up to the cottage door and we're going to almost knock, but we see something in the window. I'll nudge you to move closer, and guess what it is, Lovi?" Grandpa Roma had a sloppy grin on his face. "Just guess!"
Lovino wiped his tears with the back of his hand. "I don't know. What is it?"
"It's a pie! A lemon pie. One that your grandmother cooked. And guess what we'll do next? We'll take the pie. The entire thing! And we'll go sit in the fields and we'll eat it all by ourselves. And then your grandmother comes and finds me and she goes, 'Merry, what do you think you're doing? Ho sposato uno sciocco!' And then she slaps me on the head and tells me she loves me anyways, then she takes your hand and you know what she does with you?"
Lovino grinned through his tear-filled eyes. "What does she do?"
"She takes you back in the house and feeds you more pie, muttering things about you being too skinny. And she'll have a bowl full of fresh tomatoes, too, picked from the back where we keep the tomato plants. And then . . . wait, what was that?"
Lovino laughed faintly and rested his cheek on Grandpa Roma's chest. "What is it?"
Grandpa Roma's eyes were glossy once more, but a smile brighter than the stars shone on his face. "There's a knock on the door. It just swings open, and guess who's home from the market? Your mother! And then she'll smile that bright smile of hers and she'll hug you like she did when you were younger, figlio. And she'll let you use her paints. The nice ones. And her nice brushes, too, if you're careful. Then I go out and get you a few boards to paint on. And for the rest of the day, you and your mother sit in the field and paint all the beautiful things you see. The whole day. And what are we having for dinner, Lovi?"
Lovino beamed at his grandfather. "Pasta. A big bowl of noodles with tomato sauce and wonderful spices. And wine. Wine we made ourselves. And you baked bread and some sort of cake."
Grandpa Roma shut his eyes and patted Lovino's head gently. "And who are you inviting over for dinner? I invite some of my friends here, of course. They'd like to see Italy."
Lovino smiled, though he was crying again. "I think I'll invite that bastard Antonio."
"And we have a great time. We're all happy and drunk by the end, but we don't get sick from it. We just eat and drink as much as we want and we don't gain a pound. But for some reason, your grandmother is still concerned about our health." They both laughed and Lovino sniffled.
"And the next day, figlio. Guess what happens when we wake up in the morning?" Grandpa Roma grinned and pulled Lovino into a crushing embrace, which Lovino gladly welcomed.
Tears covered Grandpa Roma's shoulder as Lovino tried to catch his breath. His smile still hadn't faded. Roma leaned in closely and whispered,
"We do it all over again."
Lovino's smile shook and he let out a broken sob as the world came crashing back down around him. There was the sound of metal hitting metal, something breaking, and a body hitting the floor.
Time was running again.
Lovino looked down at Grandpa Roma, who was on the floor unconcious from a blow to the head from one of the guards. Lovino felt himself being lifted up, but he didn't care anymore. He didn't want to fight. He didn't want to argue or pull away. He just wanted to dream again. He wanted to spend the next three months dreaming of Italy.
And before he knew it, soon, he'd be there.
To Be Continued . . .
Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah!