CHAPTER 2

Waking up in the morning was like playing Russian Roulette with mood swings instead of bullets.

Both were things that could shoot him in the head, and both were things that would leave messy stains on the walls.

Every time he spoke, the invisible trigger was pulled. Some days he got lucky. Other days weren't so clean, but still he was alive for a man who spent his days with a constant barrel pressed up against his skull. But anyone who knew anything about that little revolver game knew the inevitability of the outcome, and that odds meant nothing if you were the only one participating.

Ralph's short temper had been endearing, once upon a time.

Ludwig kept his eyes closed as he listened to soft footsteps padding back and forth on the polished hardwood floor. He kept his breathing slow and even, didn't flinch when the bed dipped under a sudden weight by his legs.

The covers rustled with movement, and soon there was the heat of one heavy hand burning a slow trail up his calf, past his knee and thigh, until it settled over his bare crotch.

He couldn't remember the last time he wore clothes to bed. Dimly, he wondered if Gilbert still kept his old night clothes at his place, or if he'd thrown them out along with most other traces of his presence back when Ludwig had announced that he was moving out.

Ralph's touch was soft and loving, which meant he was in a good mood. Ludwig allowed himself to feel relief, nervous tension in his heartstrings slackening at the prospect of a good start to the day.

He continued to lie prostrate while Ralph fondled his limp cock, keeping up the pretense of being fast asleep. The hand quickly lost interest in its activity and retreated to gently push him from his side position onto his back. Ludwig let himself be maneuvered, head lolling from the momentum. And when he felt the hot tip of Ralph's erect penis pressing up against his upper lip, he let the entire girth slip past into his mouth without a single hitch in breath.

Ralph lazily fucked his slack-jawed mouth, hands holding Ludwig's head like it was the most precious thing he held. Only when gentle fingers gradually turned to claws in his hair did Ludwig begin to suck. Not too hard, because he was still meant to be asleep; ever so slowly, he dragged his tongue across the topography of the underside of Ralph's cock, tracing veins and ridges like he's done so many times before.

Ralph's guttural moan was followed by a particularly hard thrust that momentarily choked Ludwig of his air. He increased the seal of his lips around the throbbing girth, slowly blinking his eyes open to wake up in the perfect way Ralph always wanted him to: sleep-addled, vulnerable, his unresponsive mouth stuffed full with cock that his instincts recognized how to service even while unconscious.

"Morning, sexy," Ralph breathed. "Fuck, you drive me nuts."

The first time he was actually woken in such a way, Ludwig had been so blinded by shock and panic that he did the first thing his survival instincts commanded him to do: yank his head away from the intrusion. Unfortunately, he'd forgotten to close his mouth after getting away first. The trip to the pharmacy that followed was not for the faint teeth marks on Ralph's foreskin, but for the shard of glass stuck in Ludwig's brow after colliding with a framed picture of the two of them that sat on the bedside table.

After that, Ludwig knew better than to make the same mistake twice. He squinted up at his boyfriend's lust-driven face looming over him, hollowing out his cheeks to suck harder.

The best part about morning sex was that it never lasted long. Today was no exception, and Ludwig was pleasantly surprised at how quickly his mouth was flooded with the hot, salty taste of come. Ralph's tender touch combined with the completion of his morning routine in under a minute made all the misery of last night's adventures worth it. Ludwig obediently swallowed every last drop, and even felt happy enough to give a final small lick to Ralph's softening length as it was extracted.

"Morning." Ludwig's voice was terribly rough from yesterday's overuse that a few hours of sleep did little to fix. "What time is it?"

"Almost four thirty," Ralph answered, planting a big, sloppy kiss on Ludwig's cheek. Not on his mouth, even though he made sure to lick clean every trace of ejaculate on his lips. "It's a long drive down to Portland, so I gotta get going soon."

"Mm." Ludwig stifled a yawn. "I should get up too."

"No, you should sleep more. You look like shit."

And whose fault do you think that is, Ludwig thought in irritation, but guilt stung his conscience almost immediately. Here he was relishing his boyfriend's loving ministrations, who even called him 'babe' instead of something hurtful—and yet he still managed to feel petty and ungrateful just because Ralph was telling the truth. Ralph often spoke harshly, but he meant well. Ludwig was never good at using words either, so what gave him the right to criticize?

Besides, he just needed to wait a few more hours until Ralph left for his cadet reunion down in Oregon. He should be grateful they were parting on such good terms.

"I'm gonna miss you, baby," Ralph murmured, adoringly petting Ludwig's bed-mussed hair like he would a cat.

"I'm missing you already," Ludwig said back, leaning into the soft touch.

"You won't for long, babe. I'll be back before you realize it, and have you bouncing again like the sexy little cockslut you are. Always so hungry for my dick, aren't you? I'm surprised how long you've managed to survive without me."

Unable to produce an adequate response, Ludwig hid his burning face into his pillow and let Ralph mistake his shame for bashfulness.

Being in a relationship meant you had to get used to your partner's quirks. The longer you dated them, the more time you had. Apparently, half a decade was not long enough for him to deal with Ralph's dirty talk.

He had tried to have a conversation about it once, but he'd done a piss-poor job at explaining why exactly he wanted Ralph to stop. Ralph had only scoffed at the way he floundered and stammered like an immature child. Embarrassed, Ludwig decided to shut up and never mention it again.

Besides, it ended up working out in his favor, in a way. Ralph loved to see him squirm and blush, so it was perfect.

He listened to the sound of running water as Ralph brushed his teeth and shaved. Ludwig was suddenly parched for a cold drink—he was only just realizing how dehydrated he was, with all the fluids he had sweated and cried out yesterday. The lingering musk of semen in his mouth exacerbated his thirst, and so he heaved himself to his feet. Stars exploded in his vision as the movement sent jolts of pain through his body, but he clenched his teeth against it and forced his limbs to move.

He grimaced at the feeling of dried come crumbling off his skin, the way the sheets were practically glued to parts of his ass, legs, and stomach. It was going to take him a hot minute to make himself presentable for his day out with Gilbert in the afternoon.

Without bothering to get dressed, Ludwig got himself to the kitchen and downed three glasses straight from the tap in quick succession. The darkness was comforting, shielding his eyes from accidentally looking down and catching sight of places he knew had already turned black and blue.

He shook out a few ibuprofens into the cap and washed them down as well. And even though the sun hadn't even broken past the horizon yet, he scooped out some coffee grinds into a clean filter and waited as the pot slowly filled with Ralph's favorite light roast.

The marble surface of their bar counter was cool and soothing against Ludwig's skin. He rested his head against it, breathing deeply. He was glad for the persistent ache that throbbed in his hips, for it was the only thing that kept him alert and awake.

Eventually, Ralph walked out fully dressed and carrying the rucksack filled with essentials and a spare change of clothes that Ludwig had prepared for him a few days prior. He took a sip from the mug of coffee waiting for him on the bar, and approached Ludwig who now sat on one of the high stools.

"You're so fucking hot sitting there, muscles all covered in my old come," Ralph growled in his ear from behind. "Gonna miss you so much."

"It's only for a week," Ludwig reminded him. "I'll be right here when you come back."

"And then I'll have to go again," Ralph scraped his nails possessively across the pale expanse of Ludwig's chest. Four red lines puffed up on his skin: yet another mark left on him to show exactly whom he belonged to. "Duty calls the sailor out to sea."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Ludwig pointed out. He was simply stating facts, but his aloofness was easy to mistake for disappointment, and Ralph was eager to bask in Ludwig's perceived suffering at the absence of his lover.

Ralph hummed. "So what'd you do yesterday?"

They tended to catch up the day after, because once Ralph got home in the evenings he wanted to get the sex out of the way before either of them could do much else. "Waited for you. Watched a history documentary. Read a book."

Ralph hummed again, fingers scratching lightly through locks of tousled blond hair. "No Starbucks runs?"

Confused by the random question, Ludwig turned to him with a practiced smile. "Why would I get Starbucks when there's a perfectly good coffee machine at home?"

"I dunno," Ralph replied, smiling right back. His nails were transforming into hooks again, digging into Ludwig's scalp as he trapped his naked prey between himself and the counter edge. "Why would an 'Ivan' be texting you last night when there's a perfectly good boyfriend at home?"

The kitchen air suddenly felt like ice against Ludwig's exposed skin, even though the AC was not programmed to turn on until at least two hours later.

"Am I supposed to know who that is?" he asked calmly. Despite the smoothness of his words, Ludwig felt faint, heart jumping tricks in his throat. His iron self-discipline and sheer force of will were the only things that kept him from showing the terror that seeped into his bones at the name coming from Ralph's mouth.

"You tell me," Ralph said. His grip in Ludwig's hair was becoming so painful that it was a wonder how blood wasn't drawn. "He seemed to think you did, from the 'morning coffee' you had together."

"You can check my card balance or my cash wallet." He had to pick his words very carefully, to try and walk the fine line of trying to explain himself without angering Ralph further. "I didn't go out for coffee yesterday and I don't know anyone named Ivan. It was probably a wrong number."

"You make me worry so much," Ralph whispered, tugging Ludwig's head back so that he was forced to look into dark eyes that burned with jealousy and other things. "I'm scared, baby. You've been acting so cold lately."

"That's not true," Ludwig breathed. He reached up to card his own hands through Ralph's dark locks, gentle and soothing as one would placate a child. "I'll block the number. I'm sorry."

Ralph finally released his hold on Ludwig, whose neck was beginning to cramp from forcibly being twisted at such an awkward angle. He produced Ludwig's phone from his pocket and dropped it on the bar.

Ludwig picked it up quickly to hide the unmistakable tremor in his hands. He was such an idiot. A complete and utter imbecile, at that. If there was ever a Washington's Most Moronic award, Ludwig would have led the stage without question. He usually tried not to go outside or do too many things that might inadvertently invoke Ralph's wrath, or do anything that could have been easily mistaken for something else. It was just supposed to be a quiet morning in the next neighborhood over. All he wanted was to make the absolute most out of his last day of solitude before Ralph came home from shore duty in the evening. He had planted himself extra early into the quietest, most peaceful coffee shop. No one was supposed to show up at this little-known nook for hours, least of all try to talk to him.

But then he had walked in, filling up the tiny café with his alarmingly huge presence. It wasn't just his height, but the way he carried himself. The assertiveness of his gait. Even as he placed his order and studied the artwork on the walls, he smiled like he enjoyed all the mundanities of life.

He couldn't deny the fear that gripped his chest when the man approached him out of nowhere. Ludwig was not small by any means, but he didn't have to lift his head much to tell that this man was strong, could easily overpower him without question. Therefore it had been rather fascinating the way he remained utterly immune to being blatantly disrespected, something that got most people offended enough to leave him alone.

I simply wish to make a friend. I have lived most my life without learning how, is what he had said. If there was anyone in the world who could understand the sentiment, it was Ludwig. Perhaps sharing his number was out of sympathy that staved off his apprehensions. Perhaps it was out of respect for the stranger who refused to back down because he saw through Ludwig's pitiful attempts at building walls.

But what did it matter? As long as he slept under this roof, Ralph would find out. Locking his phone with a passcode was out of the question so of course Ralph would find out. Just what on earth had he been thinking?

His numb fingers went through the motions, tapping the 'block contact' without even checking what the message actually said.

It did the trick. Ralph sighed and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend like he was hugging him from behind for the first time.

"It's my last tour, babe. Just one more year left, and I promise I'll be back with you forever."

If he closed his eyes, it would be easier to picture the man speaking as Ralph: his Ralph, the one he fell in love with in the common room of his college dormitory, whom he kissed and embraced and loved with every ounce of his being.

His Ralph, whose crooked smile was the best thing to ever grace Ludwig's eyes at any hour of the day. Whose dark hair curled perfectly behind his ears. Whose handsome face bore all the emotions he was feeling like an open book that only Ludwig was meant to read.

Unable to swallow or speak past the ball of thorns stuck in his throat, he leaned back into the talons of Ralph's embrace and closed his eyes.

~0~

Before he knew it, midday struck into him like a quarterback on a rampage.

Ludwig retrieved his phone to look at the time once more. Only six minutes had gone by in what felt like the past half hour. A sigh was beginning to creep its way out of his chest, and he forcibly swallowed it down as the second bus pulled up to the station and left.

Gilbert was late again.

His streak was untarnished—Gilbert was always late, no matter how early of a schedule Ludwig had intentionally misinformed him of so that he'd be prepared on time.

He couldn't blame his brother, though. Both of them lost track of time very easily, and it was why Ludwig followed a set of very strict rules of his own making. Unfortunately, Ludwig seemed to have inherited all of the Beilschmidt family's self-discipline, and thus he found himself tapping his foot impatiently as he stared at the circles of old gum decorating the sidewalk.

Neither of them particularly adored mass public transportation. It was only Gilbert's weird aversion to owning a smartphone and Ludwig's own hang-ups about paying upwards of twenty dollars for a ride he could easily get from the busses that stopped either of them from calling an Uber or a taxi.

When Gilbert crashed his car, Ludwig had watched them total the scraps feeling no small degree of sorrow. Not because of the loss of a personal vehicle, per se, but because he could no longer use the DD excuse to avoid the taps on their occasional pub ventures.

It wasn't so much that he hated drinking; in fact, he had quite the fondness for craft beer. It was just that 'drinking with Gilbert' was never synonymous with 'moderation' or anything related to the word. He would often wake up without knowing how he got in his bed, head feeling trampled and mouth thoroughly desiccated.

There had once been a time in his life where such things were just another part of living—had been enjoyable, even. Now the mere thought of stumbling home inebriated, or losing film for such an extended period of time, made the hairs stand on the back of Ludwig's head.

He tightened the cross of his arms over his chest against the sudden chill that had nothing to do with the gust of wind that preceded the next bus pulling up to the station. Unfortunately, the moment he loosened his muscles enough for a shudder to slip through was the very same moment Gilbert stepped off the bus, doors hissing behind him.

"West!" Gilbert was already shedding the ridiculous patchwork jacket he loved so much off his shoulders as he approached, eyes brewing up a storm. "Why didn't you wear that coat I bought you?"

"I'm not cold," Ludwig complained, pulling his arms out of Gilbert's claw-like grasp as his brother tried to feed them into those garish leather sleeves. "Stop it! Can't you see how many layers I've got on?"

"And yet your hands are still frozen," Gilbert pointed out. "That coat—"

"—is never seeing the light of day," Ludwig finished. "Spikes on the shoulder pads? Seriously? I'll look terrifying."

"As you should," Gilbert growled. "People are dumb shits. You gotta really shove it in their faces you ain't joking around."

"I don't want to shove anything in anyone's faces," Ludwig muttered. This was the first time he was seeing his older brother in weeks and already he was sapped of all his mental energy. "Let's just go, I'm hungry."

"Why didn't you eat breakfast?" Gilbert demanded, indignant. "Just what the hell have you been doing this entire morning on an empty stomach?"

"I did eat," Ludwig replied. "I woke up very early today. It's way past noon, so of course I'll be hungry: for lunch." He very carefully directed his stare ahead and nowhere else, but Ludwig didn't need eyes to sense the way Gilbert glared something nasty into his temple.

They walked the rest of the way to their usual sandwich shop in uncomfortable silence. Ludwig could feel his brother's eyes on him the entire time, scanning every aspect of his being from head to toe. And as usual, he would not find a single hair out of line. Ludwig was confident in this, because he had spent over an hour inspecting his appearance in front of a full-sized mirror after Ralph pulled out of their driveway.

Over the years, he had become a master at deception, a visual con artist who knew how to dress deliberately and look casual, even at the cost of appearing a little uptight. Buttons were his friend. So were scarves and high collars, long sleeves and watches. Gloves, sunglasses, and a nice pair of conspicuous headphones were also high on his list, though he couldn't use the last one in the presence of his older brother lest he be accused of ignoring him.

He was glad he had switched to the scarf and turtleneck last minute, even at the risk of running slightly warmer in the midday. Gilbert walked unnecessarily close to him, and Ludwig didn't think any naturally high-collared shirt would have been an adequate barrier against that borderline superhuman eyesight. Unless Gilbert physically peeled away the layers that clung securely to Ludwig's throat, he could never know.

Could never know that merely twelve hours prior, he had been cuffed to the bed and choked multiple times to the edge of unconsciousness; Ralph was always determined to make the most of the 'goodbye sex' on his last night with Ludwig before he had to leave again, and he always took his roleplays too far.

Of course, none of Gilbert's suspicions involved anything of the sort. His brother had always been paranoid about a number of things, and even with the extensive web of lies Ludwig had carefully crafted to keep Gilbert off his scent, he was still on his case like a relentless hound. At least he was chasing him down for all the incorrect reasons, and Ludwig would gladly play his part to keep it that way.

As they ate their sandwiches ("Augh! No olives, I fucking told them!"), Ludwig listened to Gilbert rave on about his neighbor, who apparently had his unit searched and the cops walked out with stashes of more than just weed. Whenever his ire wasn't directed at him, Gilbert was rather entertaining to watch. If there was one redeeming quality about these mandatory lunches, it was that he rarely had to participate in the small conversations. Gilbert was perfectly content to do all of the talking, which had annoyed Ludwig to no end as a child.

"And I really don't know what all the fuss was about," Gilbert was saying. "There are a lot scarier things out there than cocaine."

"Just because there are more toxic drugs doesn't mean cocaine is suddenly harmless. Any substance has the potential to be dangerous in the proper doses."

"Urgh." Gilbert's face twisted like he had been force-fed an entire plate of canned olives. "You sound like my therapist."

This wasn't the most comfortable line of discussion, either. Ludwig wasn't sure if he was ready to find out what Gilbert was spending his time on these days, but at least it sounded like he was still attending his rehab sessions.

"You should stop trying to contact me so much," said Ludwig after a while. "I have a lot of work to do and I can't keep wasting time meeting up with you like this."

"What, you think this is a waste? Spending quality time with the awesome me?"

"No, you're trying to think of different ways you can stick your nose into my life when I made it very clear that I want to be left alone."

"I'm checking up on you. It's what you do for your baby brother when he's trying to find footing in this world."

"I'm not a baby. I can take care of myself," Ludwig snapped back. "I've been doing so for a long time, even before I moved out. Stop trying to meddle without asking first, and stop trying to act like you were always there for me."

Gilbert's eyes were sharpening dangerously again. "Don't you dare talk to me like that."

"Then stop being so suffocating and let me live."

Gilbert slammed his fist into the flimsy table, sending shreds of lettuce and mayo from his sandwich flying. They were starting to draw uncomfortable looks from the other customers in the shop.

"I'm your fucking brother! I'm eight years your senior and I am vastly more experienced in life. I promised mum I'd take care of you and your ego is not gonna stop me from keeping that fucking promise!"

It was the age-old excuse that had stopped making him feel guilty by the time he graduated. No longer hungry, Ludwig set down his half-eaten sandwich and busied himself with gulping down the entire contents of his drink. He could feel the weight of Gilbert's resentful eyes through the distorted glass bottom of his now-empty cup.

"You're acting weird, West," Gilbert said, once the lull of the shop returned to normal. "Don't think I haven't noticed just because we barely see each other anymore."

"We always barely saw each other," Ludwig reminded him tonelessly.

"Shut up. Ever since you broke up with that... that fucking shitstain—"

"I don't want to talk about it," Ludwig interrupted sharply.

"You always avoid the subject when you have something to hide! You think I can't see you still thinking about him? It's been months and he's still living in your head!"

Despite the running air conditioner, Ludwig felt like he couldn't breathe and he felt like his scarf was tightening around his neck like a snake. "Thank you for the lunch, brother," he said, standing up. "Have a good day."

"Hey!" Gilbert knocked his chair over as he jumped up after Ludwig, who was already halfway out the door. "Don't fucking walk away from me! Stop! Du Arsch mit Ohren—"

By the time he managed to burst out of the shop after throwing a handful of loose change in the general direction of the register, Ludwig had already gone.

Translation notes:
"Du Arsch mit Ohren" = "you idiot", or literally, "ass with ears"

PS: I speak neither Russian nor German, so I will keep any phrases/words from these languages to a full minimum. The few I have used in this fic are from my online searches. If there's any error in grammar or the context in which they're used, please feel free to correct me and I'll very gladly update the chapters with the correct version. Thank you in advance.