CHAPTER 3

"You're making a mistake, West."

It was nearing midnight, and their electricity had flickered on and off throughout the evening. If the storm worsened now, then they'd have to bring out the candles and birthday matches. They hadn't lit those candles since Ludwig's fourth grade swimming party.

"Why him?" It was the same question, over and over. "There are literally hundreds—no, thousands of guys out there. Tell me why it's gotta be him."

Both of them had bleeding throats from yelling at each other all evening. While Gilbert had disappeared temporarily to soothe his sores with spirits, Ludwig stayed upstairs to continue packing. "If you're not going to help clean this up, then you should go to bed, brother."

Standing in the wreckage of his fury, Gilbert pointed a long, accusatory finger. "You leave this house, you are going to regret it forever."

Ludwig paused, then slowly resumed gathering his jackets into an organized pile beside his suitcase.

"I fucking mean it," Gilbert warned. "You take one step out that door and you'll never see me again."

"What a relief," Ludwig retorted, flattening the lapels on a black pea coat as another airborne pillow hurtled past. It missed his ear by a mere inch this time, which finally got him looking up from his mechanical folding. "Come closer and try again," he said coldly. "Maybe you'd actually hit me if you weren't so drunk."

Gilbert marched over on unsteady feet and grabbed the neatly folded clothes lying by Ludwig's knees. He then proceeded to destroy the immaculate stack and knocked aside the suitcase with a vicious kick. "You go with him and I'll fucking kill you," he roared, fingers digging into Ludwig's shoulders. "I will do it, you hear? Look at me when I'm speaking to you, you little shit!"

"Gilbert, I'm not making a request; I'm telling you that I'm moving out, and denying me is not a valid option."

"Fine, this is how you wanna play it? Go, then! Live happily-ever-fuckin'-after, whatever the hell it is you want. Live out your perfect life with your perfect boyfriend, because I don't know who you are anymore! My brother was a smart bastard, not some spoiled little brat who abandons his family for a—a fucking Scheißkübel!"

Tripping over the mess he made out of the ruined clothes, Gilbert spat and swore all the way down the hall. In his wake, the formidable remnants of whiskey lingered for several minutes in the trapped air of Ludwig's room. Even more suffocating than the alcohol fumes, however, was the silence. It threatened to clog his ears and fill his lungs, until he couldn't breathe nor hear anything except for the deafening roar of his rabbit heart.

~0~

Stupid. So absolutely, utterly, unequivocally stupid. This internal chant had become the mental soundtrack to Ludwig's life in the past couple years. Was it directed at himself, Gilbert, or the circumstance as a whole? He couldn't tell anymore, and it made no difference. He dived into the closest side alley the moment he exited the sandwich shop so that Gilbert couldn't chase after him.

Ludwig's phone was already buzzing like mad with missed calls from his irate brother. Then came the texts, a slew of horrible things that would make a German sailor weep. They remained unopened as Ludwig turned off his phone and put it in his pocket. The unyielding cement wall grounded him as he leaned heavily against it. He breathed deeply once, and then again.

Ralph had always been a touchy subject for them right from the get-go, but nowadays Gilbert refused to even speak the name lest he sully his tongue. Ludwig had been perfectly all right with this, as it only made living his double life that much easier. Therefore, the sudden mention of Ralph today was an event he couldn't have predicted and he had to run before his panic caused him to accidentally veer off-script into discussions he hadn't prepared for.

In all their previous lunches, they'd both done so well in pretending that Ralph didn't exist. Why Gilbert suddenly decided to breach his own boundaries today was beyond Ludwig. Just what had he heard (or God forbid, seen) that he thought it was necessary?

The distance that separated Ralph's house from where Gilbert lived was just over two hours by bus ride. Knowing his brother, he knew Gilbert wouldn't waste that much time transiting just to spy. He didn't even know Ralph's address, and therefore couldn't possibly know where Ludwig stayed.

This train of rationalization calmed Ludwig somewhat. He straightened against the wall, forcibly holding his head high. All was well, and his secrets were safe. He was safe.

The trip back to Ralph's was a long one, made purposefully so by Ludwig who took several detours to pacify his rather paranoid imaginations of Gilbert spotting him on the streets and tailing him. Upon entering the foyer, Ludwig kicked off his shoes and dashed into the bathroom, where he twisted the cold tap on full blast and splashed his face (and half the sink) with freezing water.

The man in the mirror was not him. The years had permanently creased his brow and hollowed his cheeks. He was staring into the eyes of a stranger, tired and bloodshot and old.

Reaching for the cabinet on the wall, Ludwig pushed past the folded towels until his fingers brushed up against the rucksack he had hidden there one month prior. It contained all of his important possessions, including a change of clothes, his passport and driver's license, a wad of cash, a library card, and an expired gym membership. Nobody knew of this bag's existence behind the towels except for him. It was a notion both soothing and terrifying, for if Ralph discovered it before it was ready then Ludwig would lose his one and only chance for the rest of his life.

On many sleepless nights, he would lie under the sheets and fantasize about running away. Of getting up, pulling this bag out of its white, fluffy confines and never looking back. No more broken glass and holes in the drywall. No more painful sex and flushing bloody tissues down the toilet. No more tiptoeing through minefields that disguised itself as mundane, everyday conversation.

There were good days and bad days, where Ralph would tell him all the things he needed to hear and heal his wounds. And then Ralph would sigh in his sleep, unconsciously pulling him close in the way they cuddled for hours in a cramped dorm bunk all those years ago. Love was about patience and sacrifice, and such things gifted him with moments like these, where it was easy to remember how things should have been.

Just like how stopping his little brother from leaving was not an option for Gilbert, leaving Ralph was not a valid option for Ludwig. Basking in the love of his then-proclaimed partner for life, it was an unimaginable thing to do. And even when promises were soon forgotten, even when the kisses were replaced with bruises, Ludwig knew he had to stay.

Ensuring the towels returned to their original state, Ludwig closed the cabinet shut and trudged out to the kitchen. He reached for the shelves where the ibuprofen lived, wanting nothing more than to climb into bed and escape reality for several, uninterrupted hours.

Except it wasn't there, and he was greeted by an empty space where the bottle should be sitting. Neither was it found in the cupboard next, nor on the counters surrounding. Ludwig threw open every cupboard and drawer in the expansive kitchen and came up tragically empty.

He sat on the bar stool, dismayed. One other thing that he noticed an absence of was their entire stock of hangover cures, which usually sat beside the painkillers. Ralph must have snatched them last minute before heading out. Ludwig thought of his partner blind drunk hanging off his reunion buddies, then waking up in the morning to wash down anything he could to stave off the migraine.

He really hadn't planned on going outside again today. But the prospect of taking this headache to bed was entirely unappealing, and so Ludwig grit his teeth and headed back to the front door, wallet and keys in hand.

~0~

The pharmacy was bustling in the afternoon.

It was precisely why Ludwig hated venturing anywhere at this hour. Too much noise, too many people, and too many unpredictable things that could upset his routine.

Not that things had gone according to plan before this.

A quick in and out was looking rather difficult as he scanned the density of the crowd. He managed past the sliding doors without much fuss, but the line for the prescription counter looked long and arduous, snaking up and down numerous aisles. Ludwig wove his way through the mass and found himself in the aisle he needed. He began loading up on the items he needed to get out as quickly as possible: painkillers, melatonin, alcohol wipes, gauze...

A surge of people pushed past him. Ludwig pressed himself up against the aisle to let them by, clutching his items to his chest. Somewhere across the floor, a baby started screeching. The suddenness of it made Ludwig jump, earning a funny look from the young woman next to him.

God, he was exhausted. He really needed to get out as fast as he could.

The speed in which he turned around didn't give him enough time to react to the fast-approaching shape. Ludwig crashed headfirst into the figure—or rather, the figure crashed headfirst into him. The collision was enough to stagger him, but the other person went tumbling to the ground, along with Ludwig's armful of items.

"What the fuck!" yelled the man at his feet. "Open your fucking eyes!"

"Sorry," Ludwig exclaimed, reaching out to help him, only for the stranger to slap his hand away. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see—"

"Yeah, no shit jackass!" Despite being at least a head and a half taller (and twice as broad), Ludwig still shrank at the harsh, loud words coming from the man who was clearly eager for a fight. "If I hadn't caught myself from falling on my sprained knee at the last second you'd be paying for all my physio sessions, you hear me?"

"I'm really—"

"Oh, shove it. Get out of here!" The man kicked at the dropped items on the ground, sending them skidding and spinning down the aisle. They bounced off other people's feet, some disappearing into the mass as other customers shuffled around them impatiently.

Don't think about it, he ordered himself, quickly bending down to pick up whatever he could under the incinerating heat of everyone's judging stares. Don't think, don't even breathe. He just needed to get to the register, pay, and then lock himself up in Ralph's bedroom until everyone forgot who he was—

"I think you missed one."

Ludwig froze in time, hand hovering over the dust-covered roll of gauze. Without looking, he felt the weight of the new presence behind him like a ton of bricks. He knew that voice. He almost wished he didn't, because he was suddenly realizing that he'd forgotten how to greet a familiar face like a normal person. Of all times, it had to be now, when he was moments away from digging straight through the waxed tiles of the bandages aisle to hide away forever.

Aware of every second that passed, Ludwig collected himself and straightened up.

Ivan held out the box of melatonin like a peace offering, his smile lighting up the entirety of his face in almost childish delight. It softened the edges on his otherwise strong features: bold cheekbones, powerful jaw, broad chin. His formidable height and imposing build were muted by the cozy, long coat that matched the wheat blond of his hair.

He looked... nice. Not just in the physical sense, but in a temperament sort of way that was completely opposite to what he grew accustomed to living with. Ralph was hewn of all angles, like shards of obsidian both tough and brittle that cut through skin at the simplest error. Ivan was... well, he was. Ludwig wasn't sure what to think of him just yet, but the happy crinkle of Ivan's eyes looked real, as if they were pleased to simply lay sight upon the pathetic man crawling on his knees on the dirty pharmacy floor.

It was strange, to think that he was only just coming to these realizations under the harsh white light of the CVS instead of the warm, romantic glow of a café. It was a rather different assessment of character compared to the first time they met. Then again, in Ludwig's mind back then he'd been too busy plotting ways to shake off the attention of a man he never met before.

"Thanks," he finally uttered, relieving Ivan's still outstretched hand of its burden. "Hello again."

"Hello Ludwig. I must say I'm very surprised to run into you."

Ludwig was about to agree about the smallness of worlds or something along the lines, when he suddenly remembered how he had ignored whatever message Ivan had sent two days ago. Christ, and you were the one to give him your number. Ivan most likely thought he was never going to see Ludwig again.

Feeling his face flush once realizing how much of an asshole he must have come off as, he scrambled for a convincing excuse. "I, uh—I'm really sorry about last time, I forgot my phone automatically blocks unknown numbers. If you messaged me then I didn't get it. I promise I wasn't ignoring you on purpose or anything—"

"Ah, don't worry about it," Ivan said brightly. "I just assumed you were busy."

It seemed genuine enough, but Ludwig still couldn't dislodge the guilt that was rapidly calcifying in his throat. It must have shown on his face, because Ivan shrugged and added, "Well, I suppose you could make up for it... with a bit of coffee, maybe?"

"Sure," Ludwig agreed, desperate for any means to pacify the anger Ivan might be harboring in secret. "I'll disable the autoblock so if you text me again..."

"If you aren't too busy," Ivan said, tilting his head, "how about right now?"

Ludwig blinked, unsure of how to respond. His first instinct was to say no, but then he remembered why he was even here in the first place. Ralph was cities away, and there was no valid reason for him to decline. Yes, he was still dead on his feet and his Gilbert-induced headache still lingered, but Ludwig thought it was time he also showed some respect to the man who had nothing but niceties for him despite his numerous—albeit unintentional—dick moves.

"Okay," he said, hoping his voice conveyed sincerity and not his weariness. "How about the same place? It's only minutes away from here."

"Sounds great. Let's pay for our things first." Ivan held up a small paper bag containing his prescriptions. "I can't wait to get out of here."

Words couldn't describe how much Ludwig related to that sentiment. He kept silent as he followed Ivan to the register with his own items in tow. The line was mercifully short, and Ludwig was able to dump his items onto the counter in less than five minutes.

"That is quite the haul," Ivan commented as Ludwig swiped his card, although there was no judgement in his tone.

"I like to keep things stocked up," Ludwig said, which wasn't untrue. "You never know what you might need."

"Very good," Ivan said. "I think it's important to stay well equipped. You'd be surprised at how many civilians don't even own a first aid kit."

It was a curious way to refer to normal households; Ludwig was about to turn and ask about it when the cashier said, "Sir, your card was declined."

"Excuse me?" He tried again as directed, to no avail. "That can't be right," he stammered, staring at the piece of plastic as if the balance was written on it. Only the card number and Ralph's name stared back. Someone muttered something impatiently a few spots down the line. His barely quelled panic was beginning to rise again. "There should be money in there, I'm not—"

"Is everything all right?" Ivan asked, frowning.

"I'm not sure what's wrong," Ludwig croaked, clenched his fingers to stop their tremors and nearly breaking his card in the process. "There should be more than enough in here to last me ages." This card was Ludwig's to use, Ralph had said so. And true to his word, it had worked fine for him a week ago. Had Ralph taken the money out of this account? But why? When?

"Debit cards get declined when there's insufficient balance," said the cashier, watching his helpless floundering with a pitying gaze. She looked unperturbed, as if this was a common sight in her line of work. "Or when you've exceeded the transaction limit."

"I'll take it," Ivan announced, stepping forward and jolting Ludwig out of his spiraling thoughts on how this could have happened.

"What? No," Ludwig began, now horrified for entirely different reasons. "You can't do that!"

"I can and I will," said Ivan, beaming. "Step aside, please. Can I pay for this as well?" He dropped his own prescription on top of the pile. "One receipt will do."

"Would you like a bag?" asked the cashier tonelessly.

"Ivan, please—I don't really need any of this, I can come back another time—"

"Two, thank you," Ivan replied, also deaf to Ludwig's protests. "I'll use credit."

With a plummeting stomach, he watched Ivan swipe his own card like it was nothing. After separating their purchases, he handed the heavier bag to Ludwig, who accepted it with numb fingers.

"Looks like coffee will have to wait after all," said Ivan, far too chipper for talking to someone he barely knew who now owed him twice.

"I'm so sorry about this," Ludwig managed, wondering how his voice worked at all. "I'll pay you back as soon as possible."

"Don't worry, it wasn't at all expensive. But if you really want to, you can buy me an extra large cappuccino—with extra sugar." He winked playfully, and Ludwig flushed in mortification as he tore his eyes away from that mischievous face. Through the haze of panic, one particular sensation took up strange dominance in his chest: a bubbling warmth, and not the unpleasant kind.

"I'll do that. Plus whatever else you want from the menu."

"Now that is a dangerous offer," Ivan said in mock-seriousness. "What if I want to try every pastry they can fit in their oven at once?"

"Have you tried the pistachio muffins?" Ludwig asked before he could stop himself. "They'll change your life."

"I'll add it to the list," Ivan said, nodding. "Will you reply once I've texted you the day and time?"

"Yes," Ludwig promised, ducking his head sheepishly. "I'll make sure of it."

"Excellent! Well, I must get going, but I will see you very soon." Ivan raised his hand in a small wave. "Goodbye for now!"

He didn't know what was worse: the humiliation of being a charity case, or that of his damaged pride. Not that there was much of it left, but it sure stung to have someone witness it being stepped on so thoroughly, and so quickly after they'd met. Ludwig watched Ivan's retreating back with the bitter taste of melancholy on his tongue.