Chapter Text
It was a dark night. The silence was broken only by Feliciano’s calm, rhythmic breathing. Of course he was sleeping in Ludwig’s bed, but he would be lying if he said he kept caring about it. Actually, he started looking forward to bedtime a long time ago; Feliciano would always sleep right next to him, blabbering about what they did that day and then falling asleep while clutching Ludwig’s arm. At first it was weird and uncomfortable for a person like him who never really received physical affection, but as the years went by, Feliciano’s presence was like the gentle moonlight on his forehead, gently looking over him and staying by his side. No, he was more like the sun, to be honest. Has there been anyone as bright and stunning as North Italy? His beaming smile was blinding and contagious, but the contrast of day and night Feliciano was funny, to say the least. Ludwig caressed his cheek with a tenderness unbecoming of a soldier, but he didn’t really care. Feliciano was both the sun and the moon to him, so lovely and so very enchanting. The cowardly but bubbly italian who would speak and yell all day long was now as peaceful as the moon, sleeping soundly like he never knew pain at all.
But that wasn’t true, was it?
Even if the German wasn’t the most emotionally experienced of the two, he had a hunch. It was a cheesy line to say that the brightest smiles hide the deepest sorrows, but he couldn’t help but agree with it. Feliciano was beautiful and his smile eased all his worries, but sometimes, his light would fade. No one really noticed since he was still as cheerful as ever, but the eyes didn’t lie especially when Ludwig had made a habit of observing him, trying to figure him out. It was such deep sadness that was reflected on those amber eyes and he couldn’t help but wonder what would cause such gloom to a gentle soul like Italy’s. It happened when Feliciano would stare at nothingness, deep in thought. The sorrow would surface and would rob him of his joyfulness, but Ludwig could never bring himself to ask. Sometimes Italy would stare at him for too long and that same pain would be reflected on his face, but he always just shrugged and said some nonsense like ‘a pretty girl rejected me!’ to justify himself even if Germany didn’t ask.
He couldn’t bear to see him like that. Feliciano... his Feliciano should be smiling and eating delicious food, chatting with everyone on sight and singing and painting, not wearing that heartbreaking smile that tried to hide a secret that was beyond political warfare. Truth be told, Ludwig wanted to ask. He wanted to know what or who made him so miserable but he feared he didn’t have the right to pry. They were friends, sure... but everyone knew Germany’s pathetic feelings and it was so embarrassing he could die. It’s not like he wanted to go save poor Italy’s heart like a knight in shining armour, and it’s not like he hoped he would fall in love with said knight in shining armour... in short, Ludwig feared his desire to help and support Feliciano was actually just another of his stupid attempts to confess again. A selfish action to make Feliciano feel indebted to him. Yeah, he was overthinking, but he wouldn’t be German if he didn’t overthink.
Feliciano complained in his sleep, trying to reach the gentle hand that stopped caressing him and leaned on it, smiling once again. Seriously, how could someone not fall for this face?! He reminded himself of his dogs looking at the cookie on his hand, waiting and drooling with expectation and barely keeping themselves together. Suppressing a sigh, he was about to go back to sleep, but Feliciano let out a soft voice in his sleep, still. It wouldn’t bother him if it wasn’t the name of a strange man.
“Otto...”
Was zu Hölle?!
What the hell? Who calls a man’s name so lovingly while holding another’s hand who already confessed and got rejected? Come on!
The irrational anger and jealousy was quelled however by the subsequent sobs of a trembling italian, clinging to the blond’s hand while his pleasant dream seemed to turn into a nightmare. Is this the same sorrow?
“Sto ancora aspettando... Otto, io... io ti aspetto ancora...”
Even if his Italian wasn’t perfect, he knew enough to understand the general meaning of those whispers that shook him to his core. I'm still waiting for you, he said... was this about the first love he mentioned before? Was he still waiting for that boy? Did they made a promise to meet again?
Is that why he was rejected on that awful Valentine’s Day?
No, he shouldn’t make this about himself. Feliciano was in pain and the first thing he thinks is about his jealousy? What an awful man he was. Feliciano’s hands were trembling and pitifully holding onto Ludwig’s own hand, as if he was terrified of letting go. As jealous and bitter he was feeling inside, he had his priorities straight. Leaning towards the italian, he murmured softly and dried the small tears forming in his eyes.
“It’s alright, Feliciano. You’re alright.”
Hearing the voice of Germany seemed to ease his sadness as Italy slowly calmed down, the frown disappearing and once again becoming the peaceful ray of light he always was. Still holding his hand, Ludwig closed his eyes as well once he verified the nightmares stopped tormenting Feliciano. He couldn’t sleep, of course, but he could at least hear the faint breathing of the man who managed to steal his heart and that was enough for him.
━━━━⊱༺༻⊰━━━━
Ludwig woke up earlier as always, but he decided to stay in bed a little more because he was still worried for Feliciano. And because he was being held hostage too. With both their legs intertwined with each other and Feliciano hugging Ludwig with his arms, it was impossible to get out of bed without waking him up. It was weird, to say the least. Feliciano was touchy, sure, but he never was this clingy. Did he think Germany was a stuffed animal or a pillow? He could barely move! It’s not like he was heavy, the italian was short and light for a man, but he feared he would bother him if he tried to free himself, so he was stuck. However... It was so cute. So damn cute, he could almost feel the love overflowing his chest. Verdammt , why was Italy so cute? When he tried to find a more comfortable position, he heard Feliciano groan in his sleep and clung to him even harder, which made the always so serious Ludwig let out a small laugh.
“I’m not going anywhere, you can rest easy.” He said, sighing.
That was when Feliciano opened his eyes slowly and rubbed them, still in a daze. What he said however made Ludwig raise an eyebrow.
“Miss Elizabeta...? Is that you?”
“...? No?”
There was something strange. Italy was always strange to him, but this time it was stranger. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what, but the way Feliciano moved was different from before. It was clumsier, almost child-like. And those eyes... open widely once he saw the face of the German, those eyes lacked any darkness in them. Everyone had a bit of darkness, even Feliciano, but this time there was none of it. Instead, there were tears and a smile so sweet and radiant it made him look like an angel. He already was one to him, of course, but again it was different and weird, especially when he shouted with his whole chest:
“O-Otto! You came back for me!”
Italy wrapped both his arms around Germany’s neck, holding him so tightly it literally took his breath away. Having been taken by surprise, the blonde couldn’t say anything at first and tried to understand what was happening, taking both of Italy's hands so he could stop choking him.
“Ah, Otto! You’re back! You look so, so different but I know it’s you! I know it! Sniff! Mi sei mancato tanto, tanto, tanto ! You kept your promise!” The sobs were deafening and the longing was tangible in his voice, now sounding like a child’s. “Otto... Hic... I’m sorry, I should’ve gone with you even if it was scary... I... I also love you the most in the whole world.”
Those eyes.
They weren’t sorrowful anymore, instead there was such happiness and relief that he couldn’t say anything. And then, both their lips touched. Feliciano had kissed Ludwig gently, adoringly even. He had never felt such deep love or even saw it outside movies and books. It was so sweet that even if he was surprised and freaked out, he didn’t want to let go. Like two lovers who reunite after a long, painful war and finally holding each other after so many years. But he wasn’t his lover, this kiss wasn’t for him.
It was for Otto.
Ludwig separated from him and put his hands on Feliciano's shoulders to stop him from trying and kissing him again.
“Stop! What’s gotten into you? Are you still asleep?” He scolded with a heavy heart. This lovely man was looking for his lover, but he never came back and instead hurt him so deeply. And now, even if it was Ludwig who stayed by his side, he was still waiting for that lover...? It made him irrationally angry, jealousy overflowing from his fingertips and squeezing too hard. Why was Italy so fixated on this first love of his...? Germany was right here, wasn’t he? The ugly jealousy clouded his eyes and it wasn’t until he heard the cries of the italian that he realized he was being too rough.
“Ouch! O-Otto, it hurts...!”
Like he had touched fire, he retracted his hands and looked at Feliciano, surprised by his own actions.
“I... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”
“I-it’s okay, I surprised you, didn’t I?” Feliciano said, caressing his left shoulder with a nervous look on his face, but after a few moments his smile returned. An innocent and childish smile directed towards the wrong person. “Wah, you’ve grown so much, Otto... Huh? My voice? Is this my voice?”
“Look, Feliciano, I don’t know what happened or what kind of dream you had, but I’m not... What are you doing?”
Confused, Feliciano touched his throat with his fingers and looked at himself, half-naked and very obviously a grown-man. Even more confused, he started exploring his naked chest, like he didn’t realize that was his body. A child would often do that, explore their body to understand it, but this was Feliciano Vargas who we talked about and the way he moved his hands on his bare skin was fairly indecent. Perverted, even, at least to someone who held strong feelings for him and had not so innocent fantasies about him.
“S-stop! Feliciano! Mein gott , what’s happening? Seriously, this is strange even for you!”
“Otto! Your voice is so manly! You’ve grown to be such a handsome man... Y-you look more like a prince now than before.” Of course, he wasn’t listening to Ludwig and instead started to admire the German with brilliant eyes and flushed cheeks, timidly looking away once he saw the muscular torso that was barely hidden in a tank top. As nervous and shy as a young maiden, he asked: “I... Where are we, Otto? I don’t recognize this place... is this your new home?”
Was this some kind of joke?
“Okay, first of all, I’m not Otto. I am Ludwig, your... friend.” That last word was like a sharp knife in his chest, but he had to be honest. They were friends, nothing more and nothing less, and friends had to be there to help each other when they were in trouble or confused, which Feliciano definitely was.
“H-huh...? No, you’re totally Otto, my... uhm...” He paused, looking around like a lost child. “A-are you really not?”
“No. I’m Ludwig.”
Like the magic had vanished when midnight struck, the happiness and love in Feliciano’s eyes disappeared, showing instead a deep confusion and disappointment, but he still sat close to Ludwig. Even if he wasn’t Otto and he was a strange man who was sleeping with him, Feliciano felt weirdly comfortable with him. Like he was at home.
“And this is my... body?” He asked shyly, pinching his cheeks as if he tried to check if this was a dream or not. It was in character for him, but the questions and kisses were definitely not. Ah, the kiss... no, he couldn’t ponder about it, he had to make sure Italy was alright.
“... Feliciano, I think you’ve hurt your head. We should call someone”
“Ah, y-yes! Is Miss Elizabeta here? Even Mister Roderich is okay! He’s scary and gets angry at me all the time, b-but I think he’s nice...! He even let me see Otto one last time instead of making me sweep the living room!”
That’s a good place to start. Perhaps they knew what the hell was going on and... who was Otto, in the first place. Still with a mess inside both his head and heart, Ludwig nodded, feeling exhausted already. It wasn’t even noon yet and he felt as if all his energy was drained, and Feliciano wasn’t helping. The moment he stood up, the italian grabbed his shirt with a worried look on his face and profound longing in those amber eyes, as if he feared his not-Otto would vanish if he let go. It was adorable, sure, but it bothered Ludwig a lot when he thought it wasn’t a feeling addressed at him.
“I’ll be back, alright? Meanwhile, you, uh... get dressed, your clothes are on that chair.”
“... Okay.” He let go after a solid five seconds and lowered his head, almost like he was pouting. Again, it was a very Italy thing to do, but at the same time, it was different. “... W-will there be pasta?”
Finally he looked up again and smiled softly, making Ludwig think of a child who just got scolded but probably wouldn’t learn their lesson. So endearing and so very Feliciano-like.
“... Yes.”
He couldn’t bear to look at those eyes that were familiar and at the same time unknown and left the room, walking towards the phone in the hall to call someone who would know what to do. Once again, Ludwig buried all his feelings deep inside. Be it love, longing or jealousy, none of them should touch Feliciano. Not again.