Alfred hadn't changed much over the years. He looked tired but healthy, and most importantly, happy. His hair was cut professionally. He wore new glasses. His shirt was stretched a little tighter around his belly, but he was still fit and tall, almost exactly how Ludwig remembered him.

It was a comforting sight, as if there stood some proof that some parts of his old life hadn't been completely lost.

When Ludwig walked into Gilbert's driveway, the front door burst open and out jumped Alfred Jones like he'd been lying in wait at the window all this time. He full-body tackled Ludwig into a violent hug, whooping loudly.

"Fucking hell!" Alfred roared, pounding Ludwig's back like they just won college championships. "It's been a million years!"

"It sure has," Ludwig agreed, returning the hug while trying to rearrange his pained expression behind his friend's ear. Alfred smelled like how his car would smell—brand new, fresh. It sat parked in Gilbert's driveway in all its sleek Mercedez glory. "I see you're doing quite well for yourself."

"Nah dude, it's all for show," Alfred said cheerily. "Car ain't mine, half my suits are rentals, and God knows where most of my socks went. Don't let the shiny Pilot's Badge fool you—I'm still a goddamn mess."

Ludwig snorted. "Good, now I know you're the real you and not some evil clone."

"Sure about that?" Alfred raised a conspiratory eyebrow. "I'm technically closer to the UFOs nowadays, given all the time I spend up in the air. Who knows when the real Alfred Jones was swapped out?"

"They should have kidnapped him and called it a day." Gilbert's voice came from the doorway, where he stood with arms folded crossly. "No need to send a replacement."

"Really feeling the love," Alfred said, flipping him off. Gilbert scowled. "Well come on, let's get inside! I think it's gonna rain later."

Letting Alfred take the lead, Ludwig followed him to the door until he came face to face with his brother. Taking a breath, Ludwig forced himself to meet Gilbert's stare.

Gilbert didn't even look particularly angry. He merely gave Ludwig a quick onceover, and then broke out into a shark-like grin.

"I gave you that sweater for your graduation ceremony," Gilbert said. "Didn't you say you were gonna burn it?"

"Couldn't imagine polluting the air with your terrible fashion sense," Ludwig returned.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a hater. Look, it suits you just fine."

"Thanks. I hope they'll choose it for my open casket service," Ludwig deadpanned.

The smirk dropped from Gilbert's face. "Don't make jokes like that."

"Would you rather I be naked, then?"

"Shut the hell up and get inside," Gilbert growled, shoving past him to pull the door shut.

Ludwig's choice to wear the horrid sweater had less to do with hoping to appease his brother, and more to do with the fact that it was thin, had a very high, snug turtleneck and long sleeves that he had to fold to expose his hands. Since he wouldn't be able to justify a jacket and scarf indoors, this was the next best option that wouldn't leave him sweaty and overheated.

At least it seemed Gilbert was willing to pretend like their sandwich argument never happened. He couldn't ask for more than that.

While he helped Alfred set the table, Ludwig listened to the craziest stories that came out of a job flying airplanes ("—yes, three birds at once. No I'm not shitting you—") and learned that perhaps Alfred truly had it worst out of them all. He never imagined there'd be so many uncooperative passengers that had to be kicked off every day. Alfred claimed he'd been pulled out of the cockpit multiple times to help break up a brawl, and more often than not he'd fail to emerge unscathed.

"Manbabies, all of them," Alfred said, setting the bowl of peas down with more force than necessary. "There are videos too. I'm sure a bunch of them have gone viral by now."

"You'd think they'd be a bit more civilized at that age," Ludwig commented, amazed. He'd finished watching one video Alfred played on his phone where several months ago, a man wearing a Burger King hat began spewing racist obscenities to passengers around him.

"Biggest mistake going out into the real world was assuming society is built upon common sense. I seriously wonder how some people made it this far. And that's coming from me. Do you realize how scary that is?"

"I'm cowering in my boots," said Gilbert, who had marched in from the porch door. He carried a tray of perfectly roasted steaks in his hands. "But very unsurprising. Everybody in this world is a dumbfuck. I've known it from the start."

"Everybody in this world would include you," Alfred pointed out. "You calling yourself a dumbfuck?"

"Not everyone is dumb like that," Ludwig cut in before Gilbert could inhale for a scathing response. "Those who are just tend to stick out more."

"Always the voice of reason, this guy," Alfred said, slapping Ludwig on the back again. "How's the stew coming along?"

"Just needs to simmer," Ludwig answered, going to check on the pot that bubbled away on Gilbert's stove.

"Great! Gimme those, Gilbert. I'll plate 'em up."

If there was any type of lesson to be learned from having lived with his brother for most of his life, it was that Gilbert was not a man of the culinary arts. As a child, Ludwig had taken over many of the kitchen duties mainly to preserve his own taste buds. While Gilbert was by no means hopeless, most of his stove-cooked meals had both of them grimacing and reaching for leftovers in the fridge made a few days prior by Ludwig.

This didn't mean Gilbert was out of options, however. He turned out to be a prodigy in front of a grill, discovered by pure chance one day when ten year old Ludwig had begged his older brother for McDonald's and Gilbert refused to feed him 'edible trash'. To satisfy his burger cravings they bought an outdoor barbeque. The results were revolutionary, quickly becoming a staple in the Beilschmidt household and Ludwig never looked at another McDonald's again.

Alfred ate like he'd been starved for days, tearing into the steak like a hyena. Ludwig was glad to have him there as a buffer. Not once had he felt the need to speak in an attempt to break the awkward silence that would undoubtedly rise when it was just him and his brother. Gilbert and Alfred bounced off each other's quips well. In fact, with Alfred here, the mood felt normal, even enjoyable—and Ludwig was grateful for it.

He found himself relaxing with every minute, and by the end of the first hour he was smiling at Alfred's jokes and Gilbert's crude remarks. It was like they were back in their freshman year at college again, with nothing to worry about except deciding which courses to take.

"But seriously," said Alfred, turning to Ludwig. "How's work been? I know you were mostly on-call last time we spoke."

"It's okay," Ludwig replied, shrugging. He'd prepared for this question well on his way over and was confident he could remain cool and casual. The key to a good lie is: not too vague, not too detailed. "Still on-call. We're not as understaffed anymore so I'm not constantly booked out, but there's still lots to do."

"I dunno how you do it. All that calculus mumbo-jumbo back in college, those fucking fluid dyamics." Alfred made a gagging noise. "I'd rather suck a tailpipe."

"Same," Gilbert added solemnly.

"Dude, shut the hell up, you literally have like two engineering degrees."

"And?" Gilbert said dryly. "Do I look like an engineer to you?"

"Don't give me that! Lud's over here busting his ass, what are you doing to pull your own weight?"

"I'm not doing anything. My albums are still selling quite well though, thank you very much. I'm gonna make more music as soon as I'm allowed to touch a fucking car again—"

"Oh please," Alfred teased. "Just admit you're not as smart as my man here."

"Hel-lo? I practically held both your hands through every quantitative course you took—"

"At least lil' bro turned his homework into a career and stuck with it!"

"My little bro could turn anything into a career! He could probably learn in one night how to fly those stupid planes of yours."

"You're not constantly solving homework equations on the job," Ludwig explained, smirking at Alfred and Gilbert's middle-finger showdown. "All the math and theory during school was to create a foundation on which you'd build your technical expertise."

"Yeah," Gilbert added petulantly. "What he said."

"And it's not just about memorizing derivatives, it's understanding the practical application of textbook concepts—"

"Ludwig," Alfred cut in, sighing. "I love you man, but you're seriously giving me trauma flashbacks from those freshman courses and I don't want all this food revisiting the plate I ate off of."

A green hue had overtaken Alfred's face and Ludwig snorted. "Hey, you're still the only one here who can actually fly. Don't listen to Gilbert, I could never."

"Nah, don't glorify that shit. I hate flying commercial crafts." Alfred took a large swig of orange juice. "Anyway, what about outside of work? Anything fun going on?"

"He probably still wakes up at ass o'clock to go running," Gilbert said. "How 'bout getting some more sleep? You look dead on your feet, your eyes are bloodshot, and those dark circles—Verdammt. If I didn't know better I'd say you were hitting joints."

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "They're not bloodshot, and I'm not smoking weed. I've been sleeping fine, too. Work's just been demanding these days."

"So you said already. Dude, what about fun stuff? I wish I could go clubbing again. Remember that time I dragged you out a couple days before your Statistics midterm and you got absolutely trashed?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Nightclubs are still not my thing," Ludwig said, over Gilbert's sniggers. "I don't have much else going on."

And it would have been true, if not for one small bump in the rhythm of his life that wasn't there before. He remembered filtered sunlight through the blinds of a quaint little coffee shop. A stranger with a kind face, who for all his intimidating stature did nothing but smile and speak to Ludwig in gentle ways. Who always sounded happy to see him, even though Ludwig barely returned the courtesy whenever they did.

Knowing the people-loving Alfred, his friend would be glad to hear about it. Knowing his brother, Gilbert would likely not take it well. Neither of them needed to know. But pretending that Ivan didn't exist somehow didn't sit right within Ludwig's gut. The man seemed genuine in his concern and Ludwig didn't want to ignore someone who went out of his way to extend his kindness to someone like him.

It's not like this newcomer would stay in his life long enough to hold any significance to anyone else. Ludwig was lucky that Ivan was a good man, someone who did good deeds and kept polite company for miserable souls.

He decided to face the oncoming storm head-on and braced himself against the dining table.

"I guess I made a new friend."

It was almost comical the way that sentence severed the pleasant lull of dinner activity as all the attention snapped to him quicker than a military stand fast. Gilbert's head shot up so violently that Ludwig heard the audible crack of his spine from across the table. Alfred dropped both his jaw and breadstick simultaneously.

"Finally got bored of all those textbooks, huh? That's dope, man. Who is it?"

"I don't know. Some guy I ran into at a café."

Alfred cooed. "That's adorable!"

"It's not like that," Ludwig said quickly, feeling his face warming at Alfred's reaction for no damn reason. He was acutely aware of the narrowing of Gilbert's eyes as he was locked and loaded onto his little brother with his usual laser-like intensity.

"Of course it isn't, I'm just saying!" said Alfred. "I wish I could run into nice people at coffee shops and get to know them. Doesn't happen a lot in this day and age."

"Exactly." Gilbert finally spoke again, and all traces of his light, casual mood had vanished from his tone. "You don't just run into people at a café."

"I didn't literally run into him," Ludwig said unnecessarily. "This isn't a movie."

"Oh come on! Pretty sure this is like, the perfect scenario for an indie flick. What's he do?"

"Probably recruiting for a pyramid scheme. I swear they're coming up with the weirdest tactics these days. Or he's a creep, plain and simple—"

"—or he's a normal person," Ludwig finished, annoyed. "And I don't know what he does. We were the only ones getting coffee there at six in the morning. We talked a bit. He was nice."

"You talked a bit, and he was nice," Gilbert repeated slowly.

An awkward pause ensued, one which soured the dining room atmosphere even further.

"I think what Luddy here's trying to say is that he had a positive interaction with a human being," Alfred joked lightly. His amicable tone was measured, slightly artificial in his attempt to pass off the rapidly thickening tension. "One small step for mankind, one great leap for our favorite introvert! I think this calls for some celebration cake."

"Talked about what?" Gilbert demanded, as if Alfred didn't exist. "I can't imagine anyone being interested in anything you'd have to say."

Ludwig stopped cutting into his food. The delicious half-eaten steak before him suddenly looked and smelled like stale coal.

"I hope you didn't do anything stupid," Gilbert continued, stabbing his spoon down the table, "like giving him your number. There's always an ulterior motive. Always."

"You're wrong," said Ludwig through forced calm. "I can have pleasant conversations with other people sometimes."

"Pleasantly lulling you into a false sense of security! You still let random bastards get close, after everything that's happened? What if he's trying to steal from you? Scam you? Or worse, wants to take advantage—"

"Man," Alfred started to say, hand hovering at table-height to placate an increasingly irate Gilbert. But Ludwig was no longer having it, either. He slammed both utensils down on the table, nearly breaking his dinner plate in the process.

"You said I needed more friends, so I made a new one. Why? Why can't you be happy about that?"

"He's a complete stranger! Feliciano knows tons of people, why can't you be friends with someone he knows? Oh yeah, because you stopped talking to him like the selfish bastard you are—"

"I'm the selfish one, you say?" Ludwig whispered. All the rage and frustration he harbored towards his suffocating older brother threatened to spill out onto his plate, along with the contents of his stomach. "How about the guy who projects his own insecurities on his little brother because he doesn't want to admit that he's too unpleasant to be around?"

Alfred's reflexes had not dulled since after-class soccer; he was already on top of restraining a howling Gilbert who'd launched himself out of his chair. "Whoa!" he shouted, as if he were reigning in a wild horse. He snatched the brandishing spoon out of Gilbert's fist before it went flying. "Dude, watch it—you're gonna hurt somebody—"

"Don't you ever," Gilbert was roaring, "—ever talk to me like that! I fucking raised your sorry ass!"

"Alright, alright, alright!" Alfred yelled, wrestling Gilbert back into his chair. "Let's just all calm down for a sec!"

"After all I did for you," Gilbert shouted, face redder than the marinara spilled across the tablecloth. "After everything I sacrificed—"

"Time-out!" Alfred yelled, grabbing Gilbert's chair and scooting him away from the table. "Let's do time-out since y'all wanna be in kindergarten so bad. Can we please finish eating before we battle to the death?"

"It's okay. I think I've overstayed my welcome here." Ludwig turned his back on Gilbert who looked just a single provocation away from actual homicide. "Thank you for the dinner. Nice seeing you again, Alfred. Fly safe."

He felt morbidly calm, despite his pulse thundering in his ears. He knew there was something wrong with him. Something had gone horribly wrong inside him, and such temporary insanity had dragged him right up to this cliff's edge of an outcome. For a moment back then, he had truly and unequivocally believed that this would be a good idea.

The night had been going so well, too. He really had to go and ruin it all in a single breath. He should not have said anything. It would have been just another pebble atop an Everest of things he omitted sharing about himself. Now Alfred's nice little reunion dinner was ruined. Now Gilbert might start actively prying into his life again.

He should never have left the house. He should have stayed put where he belonged, and stopped trying to pretend like he was someone different—

"Hey!" Alfred stumbled after him, throwing hasty goodbyes to Gilbert who was still miraculously sitting there unrestrained. "Heyheyhey dude, whoa. Not so fast, I barely talked to you today."

"I think enough has been said," Ludwig retorted. "And quite frankly there's nothing else left to talk about." Reaching for his jacket and opening the front door, he was instantly greeted by a sheet of rainfall that poured from the grey heavens.

"I'll give you a ride," Alfred announced.

"No, thank you," Ludwig declined stiffly.

"Wasn't asking," Alfred shot back. "Whether it's back home or to the nearest pub or a fucking Papa John's, I don't care." He threw on his own coat and clicked a button on his car fob. The vehicle remotely ignited itself with a shudder, headlights blinding both of them. "Get in, the seat warmers should be on. Go!"

Ludwig groaned, but obeyed. In the few seconds it took to clamber inside, they were already dripping wet. Alfred was right; the seat was toasty and the vents were blasting warm, fragranced air that dried their clothes.

The sudden downpour was relentless on the windshield, making it hard to see and drive safely. They crawled past lights in the thickening traffic at an agonizing pace. Ludwig hadn't even mentioned where he wanted to be dropped off. Alfred didn't stop to ask, even when they finally pulled out onto the main streets.

"You okay?" Alfred asked after a while. Ludwig didn't know when he'd closed his eyes, but he opened them to see that he'd been leaning against the icy window that fogged up from his feverish temple.

"Yeah," Ludwig replied. He pushed stray locks of hair out of his eyes, damp and disarrayed. "Yeah, just a bit tired."

"I know Gilbert talks a lot of bullshit," said Alfred, "but I have to agree with him on one thing. You look like you haven't slept in days."

"Work's just busy," Ludwig muttered.

"Mm."

They sat in silence. The car in front of them hesitated on an amber light. Alfred cursed lightly. The wipers worked furiously back and forth. Hundreds of raindrops on the window raced each other to the bottom.

"You know," Alfred said. "I FaceTimed Kiku the other day."

"Oh."

"Yeah. He's doing pretty good. Still has his gaming setup from college. We talked about you."

Ludwig didn't know what to say to that.

"You should hit him up, too."

"I'm good."

"No, seriously. He's been curious to know what you're up to."

"Nothing to be curious about," Ludwig said, drained. "Besides, he'll just be annoyed that I haven't kept in touch for the past year."

"Nah, you know he's not the type to get angry. He doesn't think you ghosted him—he really believes you were too busy. Feli, too. Kiku's closer to him than me, and I promise they'll both be extremely happy to hear your voice again."

"Okay." Ludwig sighed. "I'll call him."

"No you won't."

"...Excuse me?"

Alfred was leaning into one fist with his elbow propped up on the window ledge, while he strummed his right fingers on the wheel. He tossed a knowing side glance at Ludwig. "I know you won't. You're just saying that to get me to shut up about it."

Despite himself, Ludwig couldn't help the jolt of irritation that sparked in his chest at seeing his friend so relaxed. "So you can see past my trickery. Good for you," he snapped. "What are you really trying to say?"

"Sorry if I'm getting ahead of myself," Alfred began in a rush. "Because I'm not trying to act like I know you better than yourself, or Gilbert, or anyone else. But you and Kiku were some of my closest buddies in college, and I like to think I know you guys pretty well. And I think I know you well enough to see that you haven't been telling us the whole truth sometimes.

"And like, I'm not trying to accuse you of lying. I'm definitely not mad at you. I think you have a good reason why you don't tell us things about your life and I respect that. But even when you're laughing and stuff, I can see you're not happy. And I don't feel too good flying off to random countries knowing that."

"I appreciate the concern. Truly, I do. I'll call Kiku as well, I guess I just needed a little push. And you're imagining things about me not being hap—"

"Ludwig, are you still seeing Ralph?"

Alfred kept his eyes trained on the road, head held straight. But they weren't going anywhere—they were still stuck on the red light. His lungs instantly robbed of every ounce of oxygen, Ludwig went very still.

"No." His response was barely audible over the hot air blowing into their faces. "No, I'm not."

"So you did break up with him back then."

Ludwig couldn't move his lips, couldn't regain the strength back in his voice.

"You didn't break up with him back then," Alfred amended. "But you're still not seeing him?"

"It's... complicated."

"You didn't break up with him and you're still seeing him." There was ice in Alfred's tone. "Yeah, I thought so."

"Sorry," whispered Ludwig, automatically.

"What? 'Sorry'? The hell are you sorry for? Don't sit there and tell me you're sorry. Fucking Christ. Fuck."

"Alfred, please don't tell Gilbert. I'm begging you, he's going to lose his mind. I'll do anything, please just don't—"

"No. I'm sorry." The steering wheel creaked from the force of Alfred's grip, which he relinquished slowly as he shook his head. "I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't mean to yell, that was an asshole thing to do. I'm not mad at you, promise."

"I don't care if you're mad at me. Please don't say a word to Gilbert. Promise me, Alfred—"

"I promise," Alfred said firmly. "Gilbert's not gonna hear a thing. We're not even that close, to be honest."

Ludwig slumped in his seat, burying his face into trembling hands. He felt sick.

"Lud, I just..." Alfred blew out a long breath. "I can't believe this whole time you were still living with him."

"I have my own place too. I only visit him sometimes."

"Bull-fucking-shit. I bet you haven't stepped foot in your own apartment in months."

A car behind them honked. The light had turned green several seconds ago.

"How can you bear staying in the same house as your abuser? That guy—"

"He's not an 'abuser'," Ludwig croaked. "Stop using that word so lightly."

"Are you listening to yourself? He beat the living shit out of you."

"No he didn't. You're blowing it out of proportion, like everybody else. Unless you seriously think I'm that weak to just keel over from a couple bruises—"

"It wasn't just a couple. Jesus Christ, Lud, do I have to go on and list your own injuries? I wasn't there when you went to Kiku's that night, but I didn't have to be to know how bad it was. He said you couldn't even walk upright for days!"

"That wasn't—that was 'cause he—" Ludwig choked on his own tongue. He never felt more trapped than he did right now, sitting in this luxurious Benz with seats that felt like hot coal against his legs. "So this is what you meant when you said you guys talked about me? Counting my black eyes and guessing where else I've had stitches?"

"No! Christ, no! All we talked about yesterday was how much we fucking missed you! You disappeared off the face of this earth, and when you showed up to Gilbert's today looking like that, I just—I knew something was up—"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I look perfectly normal."

"You hate yellow. You wouldn't even wear our team jersey during practice because it was yellow. Gilbert specifically got you that sweater as a prank because you hated it so much."

"Maybe I changed my mind. Do I have to hate the same color for the rest of my life?"

"Take it off, then. It's getting pretty hot in here, I can lend you a T-shirt in the back."

Ludwig slammed his skull back into the headrest in frustration. "Stop it! Why are you doing this to me?"

"I have to leave this country in two days," Alfred said, slightly hysterical. "I'm afraid the next time I'm back, I won't be able to see you anymore."

"Stop being ridiculous, he's not going to kill me!"

"He almost killed you back then! If you stay there, what the fuck is gonna happen in a year or two? If you can even survive that long without going insane!"

"I fucking know that!" Ludwig burst out. His entire body felt like molten adrenaline. He slammed shut the air vents on his side and rolled down his window, despite getting immediately drenched by the freezing droplets that flew into the cabin. The cold soothed him somewhat, and he drew a shaking breath against his will. "I know it's crazy. I don't need you or Kiku to tell me that I'm crazy."

"Lud, I didn't—"

"I'm going to leave him," he continued. It felt weird to say it, to actually speak the words and hear them leaving his mouth. "For real this time."

"Do you really mean that?" asked Alfred quietly.

"Yes," Ludwig emphasized. He thought of lying sleepless in Ralph's bed, watching the street lights cast long shadows through the blinds across their ceiling. He thought of the bag hidden behind clean towels in Ralph's bathroom. "I've thought about it for a long time. I can't..." He pressed his thumbs into the corners of his eyes. "I can't do this anymore."

Silence lulled inside the car again. The rain continued to batter Ludwig's face and drench his right shoulder, arm, and leg.

"How..." Alfred had lost all confidence, sounding just as uncertain and frightened as Ludwig felt. "How do you plan on telling him?"

"I don't know."

Many of those sleepless nights were spent imagining Ralph's face should he dare speak the forbidden words. Let's break up. The shock, the fury, the derisive laughter.

Who the fuck are you to decide whether we're breaking up or not?

No matter how hard he tried, Ludwig's mind kept falling back to the same scenario, one where he lay dazed and bloodied on a glass-strewn hardwood floor, clothes sticky and reeking of tequila. One where he'd crawl out the front door on his knees, fall down the snowy steps of Ralph's slippery porch, and land on his palms on the icy sidewalk. Kiku's house was the closest; he could probably reach—

"Lud." Alfred was poking him gently on the elbow. "You with me?"

Ludwig nodded. He shut the passenger window, realizing he'd gotten all the upholstery in Alfred's car sopping wet. "Sorry," he mumbled, trying to wipe the dash with his dry sleeve.

"Leave it, I don't care about the car. Look, I'm sorry, man. It wasn't my place to freak out on you like that. I just... please be careful. I've never seen you like this before and I'm just really fucking scared."

"It's okay," Ludwig murmured. "You always said I had a scary resting face."

Alfred paused, then burst out chuckling in sheer disbelief. "You got that right."

The rest of the drive was mostly filled with sounds of the radio which Alfred turned on, after Ludwig finally gave him directions to a public building close to Ralph's address. For the first time since entering Gilbert's house, Ludwig checked his phone. Surprisingly, a text was waiting for him from Ivan.

You forgot your book yesterday when you left, it read. I'll give it to you the next time we see each other.

Shit. Ludwig really had dashed out of the shop like a fugitive on the run. He'd completely forgotten he even had a book with him in the first place.

Thanks for picking it up, he replied. It totally slipped my mind.

Any time, Ivan texted back immediately. I read it last night after I got home, which is why I didn't let you know right away. I hope it's okay with you.

Through all his exhaustion, Ludwig couldn't help the twitch of his mouth. He pictured Ivan curled up in an armchair entirely too small for him, face buried in a children's book with a giant cappuccino steaming at his side.

Of course. I hope you enjoyed it.

Very much! I wish I had read more stories like this as a child. I would have loved every book just as much as you did this one.

What makes you think I loved it? Ludwig asked. It's just a fairytale. I've got plenty more.

I could tell by touching it, Ivan explained. You were holding it with lots of care when I arrived. The pages are frayed and cracked. They felt very alive with the love you have given them.

"Okay, we're here," Alfred announced, stretching and popping his neck. "Though I still dunno why I can't just drop you off at your door, it's raining cats and dogs... Lud? Hey, Lud—what's wrong?"

Ludwig looked up wide-eyed from his phone, staring listlessly into Alfred's worried frown. The tear had already escaped past his cheek, sliding off his nose and landing on his freezing wrist.

It stung less to not understand why he was crying, than it did to not understand why his heart ached so badly within.

Thanks for reading, as always.