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Gilbert stared at the ceiling, heart racing at the gentle touch at his side.
Roderich lay curled up at his side, barely covered by the soft, downy comforter that had been shoved away during his restless sleep.
Gilbert ran one hand over the silken sheets underneath him, the other rubbing Roderich's back. He was nearly as soft as the sheets.
He never took the time to think about how Roderich treated him. Extravagant gifts, rich foods, "only the best for my Gilbert!". It was all so strange and new. Nobody ever treated him like this before. He had to work for all he needed, rarely affording luxuries. And there was Roderich, smiling and lovingly raining him with things he wanted, from the most minimal to the most expensive.
Did he really deserve it? Roderich was always so cold and distant to others, but warm and gentle to Gilbert himself. What made him different. Was it his looks? Was he that good in bed? He didn't have riches or land to offer. He wasn't a strong military power anymore, so he couldn't protect him.
And yet, Roderich was latched to his side, arms tightly around his naked waist.
Well, maybe he didn't deserve it, but Gilbert didn't mind it one bit.
It was about midday when Roderich woke, huffing and puffing as he sat up, bringing Gilbert back from his dozing state.
"Darling?" That sweet and gentle voice murmured, a hand gently touching his cheek.
Gilbert slowly blinked awake, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the light. Roderich was smiling all the while, as if the sight of Gilbert half awake and in his worst state of undress was such a beautiful sight to behold.
Gilbert would never understand how Roderich could look at him like that, with such love and admiration. Small and soft fingers caressed his cheek, making him sigh and lean into his touch, which, Gilbert thought, had to be the most comforting feeling in the world.
It was quiet and calm. No more words were spoken and no swift movements were made. Roderich slowly helped him sit up, leaning back against the bed's elegant headboard.
Gilbert relaxed against his chest, cheek pressed against his warm skin.
Vienna beat a steady rhythm in Roderich's chest, a gorgeous and loving song, one that spoke of battles won and hearts stolen. This song played every time Gilbert would lay eyes on this man- no, not a man. An angel.
Roderich was the most perfect angel he had ever seen, his wings replaced with downy blankets and soft pillows. The crowns that once adorned his head were his halo, glowing in golds and silvers, glittering with rubies and sapphires.
Gilbert could barely believe Roderich turned down such royalties, instead focusing on a poor, lost Prussian soldier, who had withered with time and age.
Vienna kept beating that gentle tune, like a steady drum, keeping Gilbert soothed and sedated.
That soft voice, battered from years of war and turmoil, spoke gently and kindly.
"So beautiful… " He whispered, a hand carding through Gilbert's rough hair. "So amazing. So strong. My angel. "
Gilbert felt tears drop down his cheek, his eyes wide. Him? An angel? No, it couldn't be possible. Roderich was surely the holiest creature here. So perfect and gentle.
And yet, those violet eyes looked at him with such a passion, such a strange love. Gilbert felt as if he were above God himself.
Those gentle fingers moved up his cheek, swiping away any tear that dare try to escape. "No need to cry, my love. " That voice, one that no longer sang in those blessed tones, said softly. Roderich was broken, yes, but he was still so perfect. Gilbert loved nothing and no one more.
Vienna kept beating on, playing his angel's song.