-When you love someone, but it goes to waste.-
Fix You; Coldplay

-Hetalia-

Things could have been worse. All the same, Gilbert grumbled as he pulled into the parking lot that night. He could see from his parking spot that the lights in their apartment were out. It was around seven thirty at night, meaning that not only had Ludwig refused to quit his job like Gilbert had urged, but he'd taken on an extra shift. Again.

Gilbert slammed the car door half-heartedly, huffing at the thought of his brother. Of course Ludwig didn't quit. He really should have expected that. It still annoyed him, though, and Gilbert made his way out of the cool night air and into the lobby of the building with a frown glued to his face.

"Mr. Beilschmidt?"

Gilbert turned to see the receptionist waving him over.

"What's up, Toris?" Gilbert leaned over the desk, his usual smirk chasing away the frown. Toris smiled, looking a bit nervous as he flipped through a little notebook he'd just pulled out of his pocket.

"Ludwig called from the restaurant," he explained as he searched for the message. He found it with a little "Ah," missing the falter in Gilbert's expression. "He said to tell you he'd taken over Feliciano's shift, so he'll be back around nine. He also said not to burn the building down, though he may have been joking..." Toris trailed off, uncertain.

Gilbert rolled his eyes dramatically for the Lithuanian as he stopped leaning on the desk and turned towards the elevator.

"I'll be careful," he promised the receptionist as he left him fiddling with the little notebook. The ringing of the phone kept Toris from replying, and Gilbert could hear him giving room rates to the person on the line as the elevator closed.

Gilbert still referred to their room as an apartment purely out of habit now. Ludwig was old enough to realize that they lived in a hotel, and he was too old to pretend. It wasn't that odd, though. They'd gotten a good deal on the room, though Gilbert would never admit to Ludwig that he'd done some heavy duty bribing with the manager to get it that way. The rate they paid was almost like an apartment's rent, and they'd been able to stick together despite the fact that up until his last birthday, Gilbert wasn't legally old enough to be Ludwig's guardian.

211. The numbers were golden on the door, and Gilbert smiled as he fitted his key into the lock. No matter what Ludwig said, - or rather didn't say, because Gilbert could read his younger brother's thoughts even if he never complained - this was theirs. They weren't just staying in some hotel. This was their home.

The little yellow canary chirped a greeting to him before he'd even turned the lights on. Gilbert smirked as he shut the door behind himself, moving straight to the cage held up by a stand in the corner.

"Did you miss me, little bird?" he asked, speaking in German as he opened the little door for the bird to hop out onto his finger. He received a chirp for an answer and took it to mean yes. "Come on, let's cook dinner." He set the bird on his shoulder and made his way to the little kitchen area. They'd bought a small portable stove along with some other essential appliances as soon as they'd had the money, and in Gilbert's opinion, there was hardly a difference between a 'real' kitchen and theirs. It didn't matter the size of the stove, after all, so long as the wurst was good, right?

The canary flew around the room, amusing itself, as Gilbert set to work making a meal for himself and his brother. He busied himself with forming meatballs and tried to put together another argument in his head. His job brought in enough money for their rent and their food, plus a bit extra, so long as they were careful. Ludwig was the younger brother, so it was Gilbert's job to take care of the both of them. Therefore, Ludwig shouldn't be working so much. Fool proof.

But Ludwig wouldn't listen to him, no matter what Gilbert said. It was irritating to say the least. Here Gilbert was, trying to be responsible and all that good shit, and Ludwig wouldn't have it. Gilbert grumbled to himself as he made a few more meatballs. Sometimes, when he got all sappy and kind of unawesome, he'd miss the days when Little Luddy would do whatever he was told, no questions asked. Nowadays Gilbert actually had to explain to strangers that he was the elder of the two, not the other way around.

Gilbert huffed, more than a little annoyed now, and finished making the meatballs. He left them to cook, setting the little hand held timer so he wouldn't forget, and flopped down on his bed, bored. His first thought was to call someone and demand entertainment, but it was eight something now, so whomever he called would probably be busy and annoyed with him. Thus, there was only one real choice, and he smirked to himself as he grabbed the hotel phone and dialed the number he'd memorized ages ago.

"What's up, Specs?" Gilbert taunted in German the moment he heard the Austrian's voice. Roderich already sounded irritated. Perfect.

"Gilbert! I am in the middle of a pre-rehearsal," the brunet spat in English. Gilbert raised an eyebrow.

"What the hell is a pre-rehearsal?" he asked, switching to English as well.

"If you must know, I am, or rather I was before you interrupted me, performing for my parents before tomorrow's orchestra rehearsal." That explained the English then: Roderich didn't want dear old Mutti and Vati understanding what he may have to say back to Gilbert. The Prussian just snickered, which made Roderich sigh on the other end.

"Is there an actual reason you called me, aside from your quest to make me tear all of my hair out, or should I redirect this call to Elizaveta?"

Gilbert could practically hear the smirk in Roderich's voice as their mutual friend was brought into the conversation. As soon as she caught word of his attempts to irritate Roddy, she'd be clawing down Gilbert's door and threatening him with a frying pan. Gilbert liked his face the way it was, so he surrendered. Only temporarily, though, he assured his pride.

"Ja, ja, whatever Specs. Go back to your xylophone."

"Thank you," the Austrian huffed before the line clicked and the call ended. Gilbert put the phone back and let out a groan of boredom. He scanned the room for something, anything, to do, before his crimson eyes landed on his prized electric guitar. He leapt from the bed and smirked as he plugged in the amp without a second thought. Tonight was a night for irritating neighbors, and he was certainly going to give it his all while his little brother wasn't around to stop him. Besides, he had practice tomorrow. He needed to warm up.

-H-

Ludwig was home far earlier than Gilbert expected. The tall blond all but slammed the door and stomped over to Gilbert, yanking out the amp's chord and glaring down at his older brother.

"Hey!" Gilbert protested, clinging to the red and white guitar as Ludwig tried to wrench it from his hands.

"Nein, Gilbert!" was all he received in response, Ludwig shooting him a sharp look before hurrying over to the meatballs Gilbert had forgotten about.

It was obvious none of them had survived the extreme over cooking, and Ludwig sighed as he tossed out the wasted food. Gilbert gently set down the guitar and slunk over to the kitchen area, understanding several things at once.

First, Ludwig had exhausted himself with the extra shift. Second, they had no dinner as it stood now. Third, Ludwig was going to take it on himself to start cooking something, despite the fact that he looked ready to pass out. Gilbert frowned.

"Nein," he warned, nudging Ludwig away from the little stove. "Take a shower or something."

Ludwig tried to protest, but Gilbert gave him a harsh look and the younger surrendered, too tired to fight. Gilbert felt his brotherly power returning as Ludwig did what he was told. Perhaps working too much had some benefits after all.

By the time Ludwig returned from his shower, Gilbert had begun cooking the new meatballs, making sure that this time he stood by so they wouldn't meet the same fate as their ancestors. The little canary chirped from where it sat on top of its cage, waiting for someone to let it back in.

Gilbert looked over his shoulder. "Bruder-"

"Ja." Ludwig's answer was clipped as he gave the bird what it wanted and Gilbert let out an irritated sound. Apparently there would be another fight after all.

Gilbert plotted his words as he moved the meatballs off of the stove and onto plates for them. Ludwig was watching him out of the corner of his eye as he sat down at their tiny table by the window, and Gilbert had to resist the urge to smirk. Placing a plate in front of his brother before taking his own seat, Gilbert asked a would be innocent question.

"How was work?"

Ludwig lifted his head to glare at him. Gilbert returned the glare and took a bite of his meal.

"Fine." Ludwig was trying not to fuel the fight, but Gilbert was bent on arguing.

"And Feliciano? Did he enjoy his day off?" Ludwig grit his teeth and refused to answer Gilbert, so the Prussian pressed on. "I told you to quit, West."

Ludwig flinched at the nickname, and for a second Gilbert regretted using it. But only for a second, as Ludwig finally answered him.

"We need the money."

"Nein, we don't."

Ludwig sighed and stood up from the table, leaving his half finished dinner behind. Gilbert stood up, angry at being ignored.

"I earn enough!"

Ludwig just crawled into bed and hid himself under the covers, refusing to take part in the fight. Gilbert had another protest on his tongue when Ludwig's voice came out muffled by the blankets.

"Gute Nacht, großer Bruder."

Gilbert frowned, nearly pouted, and crossed his arms, slumping back into his chair. "Ja, ja, gute Nacht," he grumbled, the rest of his argument dying out. He still stuck firmly to his beliefs.

Things could've been much worse. But they could've been better, too.

A/N: Thank you very much for reading. Before recent edits, this chapter used to be overflowing with poorly translated German. My thought process was that it didn't make sense for two people whose first languages were German to speak English at home. However, it's not very good to have an English story filled with random foreign languages, and especially not when they were terrible Google translates. (Seriously; I've taken two semesters of German since then and even I could tell how bad the German was in this chapter. Don't trust Google, kids!)
At any rate, it's safe to assume that characters speak their native languages to one another whenever possible, though in mixed groups the boys will use English. As a side note, I know that Germans learn English, but I don't know if Austrians do. For the sake of the story, please pretend that, at least at the time that Roderich's parents were in school in Austria, their specific schools did not teach English.
This chapter is kinda bleak. I'm sorry, but I needed to establish some things. Like the nickname bit, and their living status, etc. The next chapter will be back to band things, like their first practice.

As for the song, this chapter is the first that's focused more on the relationships between characters, so this song is the first that applies less to the band and more to the relationships within it. The double meanings attempt is still going strong, and for those of you who like foreshadowing, I suggest you listen to the songs I reference. They apply to so much more than just the people and the actions in any single chapter. Of course, you probably need to be able to think the same way I do to really get the foreshadowing, haha.

A huge thank you as always goes to Hornet394 for beta-ing this story. I've been very lucky to have this person helping me.

Translations for this chapter:
Ja, ja: German; Yes, yes. (Note: Gilbert uses this to mean "Yeah, yeah," in this instance, as he's speaking English. See note in Chapter 2 on Gilbert's use of German)
Nein: German; No.
Bruder: German; Brother.
Ja: German; Yes.
Gute Nacht, großer Bruder: German; Goodnight, older brother.
Ja, ja, gute Nacht: German; Yes, yes, goodnight.

If you've made it this far, thank you so much.

~VV