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The city smelled of smoke, gasoline, and broken dreams. The white lights made the entire gray-and-white atmosphere look like the halls of a hospital; that pristine purity was stained only in the alleys filled with neon lights. Graffiti and murals of different aesthetics, painted with words in various languages, decorated the corners, along with old posters, new ones, and others half-torn. On one of those many corners, in a damp alley, Feliciano was trying to start an old but well-maintained Benelli motorcycle. With his fingers stained with grease and an embarrassed smile, he straightened up to speak to his companion.
“Ve~, Ludwig, I swear it’s going to start this time.”
The German, wearing a glossy black leather jacket and with his hair damp but neatly combed, watched him with that mix of patience and frustration that only someone who loves too much can have.
“You said the same thing twenty minutes ago.”
“And I still have faith!” the Italian replied, climbing onto the motorcycle and kicking the pedal once more. The engine suddenly roared, and the soft purr that followed the initial outburst was accompanied by a small cloud of white smoke coming from the exhaust. Feliciano let out a small joyful laugh. “See? I told you it would start!”
Ludwig sighed, adjusting his position on his own motorcycle, already running.
“I just hope we get past the city limits before they start patrolling this area…”
In the distance, the blare of sirens and people’s shouts could be heard. Both exchanged a look tinged with worry. They had to leave.
Feliciano put on his helmet and adjusted his clothes to avoid getting any more soaked than he already was. He stretched a bit before smiling at Ludwig to ease the tension.
“Hey, doesn’t it excite you a little? It’s like a movie! Two rebels in love, running from the law… Or like a song! There are lots of songs about that, right?”
“I guess so,” Ludwig murmured, putting on his own helmet. “I just hope we don’t get arrested… or shot.”
“You’re so dramatic.” The Italian giggled, his cheeks tinted a faint pink. He revved the engine a couple of times before speeding off down the alley, Ludwig following close behind. Once they reached a wider street, Feliciano looked at the blond with his usual smile.
“Ve~ Admit it, Luddy. Without me, you’d still be a boring office worker.”
“Without you, I wouldn’t be running away,” he replied, but his voice had a fond tone, and a small smile hid behind the glossy helmet.
They rode slowly down the street until they reached the main highway, where they increased their speed. As they moved away from the heart of the city, the buildings looked more neglected; the lamps didn’t work or flickered constantly, the paint peeled, and the graffiti covered the walls like old scars.
“FUCK THE GOVERNMENT”, “PRUSSIA WAS HERE”, “ACAB”
The wind was cold, but Feliciano raised a hand, letting the raindrops touch his fingers. They weren’t going at full speed yet; it was best to wait until they cleared the city, or until the police started getting too close, before pushing the engines to their limit. In the meantime, the young Italian enjoyed a somewhat peaceful “stroll” with his boyfriend.
“You know, Luddy? It doesn’t matter what happens with the cops. As long as you’re here, everything will be fine.”
“You have a very strange idea of what ‘fine’ means,” he said with a worried look.
The red and blue lights appeared just as they were approaching the bridge separating the city from the desert, which in turn separated the small metropolis from the rest of the region. Feliciano didn’t answer, he only laughed. Ludwig accelerated without hesitation, and the brunette followed, excited; laughing, shouting words in Italian that were swallowed by the sound of the engines and the sirens. Before reaching the rendezvous point with the others, they had to lose the police.
Under the city’s dirty and cloudy sky, two young lovers raced toward nowhere in particular.
Hours later, at an abandoned gas station, Ludwig was studying a map with a deep frown. They had lost the police for now, but the sirens could still be heard close enough to remain a concern and a danger for the both of them. Feliciano was sitting on his motorcycle, leaning on the tank with his arms crossed on the handlebars, resting his cheek there as he watched his boyfriend tenderly.
“Ve~, you look handsome like that. So focused.”
“Stop distracting me,” the German said sharply, but gently. It was clear he didn’t mean it.
Feliciano straightened up, leaning in to leave a quick kiss on the blond’s cheek. Ludwig only looked at him with pressed lips and a noticeable blush.
“I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to, ve~. We’re like noise and silence; one doesn’t exist without the other.”
Ludwig, despite trying to hide it and act serious as always, couldn’t help but smile. Very slightly.
The kind of smile only Feliciano could bring out.
The rain hadn’t stopped since they crossed the bridge. The tires of both motorcycles left shiny tracks on the asphalt, the bodies of the vehicles occasionally reflected the dim light of street lamps that lit the road that, if not for a couple of houses and warehouses in the distance, would have been completely empty.
Feliciano sped up slightly, riding a few meters ahead, his long scarf fluttering like a rebellious flag screaming freedom.
With a quick movement, the Italian lifted his helmet visor. The wind and the engines’ roar forced him to raise his voice.
“Eeh, Ludwig, I think we’ve already lost the cops!”
The blond followed calmly, though he didn’t relax his posture. Even if the patrol cars were nowhere in sight, the sirens could still be heard far behind, no longer as close as before. They were no longer the threat they had been at the bridge. They could finally breathe (or at least, Ludwig could. Feliciano had never stopped being calm).
“We won’t have lost them until they stop looking for us,” he said, checking the rear-view mirror. After a pause, he added, “But for now we’re fine… Good riding, Feli.”
Feliciano’s smile grew so wide he nearly toppled over, accompanied by a nervous giggle.
“Ve~, I knew you’d say something nice to me!”
The engines roared loudly as they turned onto a side street. As they advanced, the streets filled with houses, workshops, and various shops. A flickering old neon sign stood out on a building slightly separated from the rest:
“RED ROW. LIVE MUSIC, NO COPS, NO RULES.”
Feliciano slowed down, and Ludwig followed suit. They stopped a few meters from the bar. The young Italian pointed at the sign excitedly.
“Ve~, look at that! We made it!”
Ludwig hesitated. The place had the kind of energy that normally gave him a headache. Graffiti covered the walls, a group of bikers smoked at the entrance, and the music boomed from the basement like underground thunder. It was the worst possible meeting spot, he would have thought.
But then he heard Feliciano’s laughter, that warm, lively sound that contrasted with the city’s sterile white, and he relented.
“Fine,” he muttered, and they quickly parked their bikes by the building. The German let Feliciano go in first, and before entering the basement, as they walked down the stairs, he said loudly enough for the other to hear, “But only until the rain stops.” And it wasn’t as if they had many other options.
Inside, there was smoke, red lights, and distorted guitars. In a corner, a man with messy white hair was laughing loudly, holding a tall beer glass in one hand. He was wearing what looked like an old navy-blue military jacket, covered with patches, studs, pins, and small spikes.
“West!” Gilbert shouted, lifting his glass with a huge grin. “Y'all are late!”
Ludwig sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. “I’m not surprised you were already here.”
Feliciano greeted him enthusiastically. “Ve~, Gilbert! We were hiding earlier, it took us a while to find the place!”
“‘Hiding,’ he says,” the albino cackled, slapping his brother-in-law on the back and dragging him into a seat beside him. “Hiding from what? Boredom? Or the law?” he asked, feigning ignorance. He already knew the answer.
“The law,” Ludwig replied dryly as he watched Gilbert wrap an arm around the brunette. The German looked stressed just seeing his half-drunk brother so relaxed amid the chaos around them.
Not that it bothered Ludwig. He had learned to love the lack of rules, the chaos, and the struggle of the community. Feliciano had taught him. But it was because of Gilbert that they had gotten into trouble in the first place.
A concert in the city (miraculously legal) had gone wrong after the tickets sold out. The attendees who still wanted to get in caused a commotion, trying to force entry, and the officers nearby attempted to intervene. Bad idea.
Gilbert let out such a loud laugh that several customers turned toward him, though no one found it strange coming from the albino. “Kesesese! Now that’s irony! My brüder running from the police. Prussia approves!” he shouted, tugging at the patched-up shirt he wore under the jacket, the flag of the fallen kingdom printed chaotically across the fabric.
The albino turned away to talk with some friends at the next table. Ludwig didn’t know them. Feliciano probably did, but he didn’t seem interested in joining. He looked more focused on the odd mix of wine and soda in his glass, drumming his fingers to the rhythm of the song playing in the background. The German watched him for a moment. In the crowded bar, Feliciano seemed to shine; studs, chains, accessories. Honey-colored eyes full of life—the same eyes that had captivated a much younger Ludwig the first time he saw them.
The German’s heart flipped in his chest, and for the first time in a long while, he stopped thinking about rules and worries.
He leaned in and pressed a short kiss to the shorter man’s lips. Feliciano, slightly surprised, only blushed and looked at him with a shy smile. He was used to being the one who initiated physical affection, whether hugs, kisses, or more intimate moments. But that didn’t mean he disliked when his boyfriend took the initiative; it simply made his heart beat faster and his stomach twist in the most exquisite way.
“You look… even cuter than usual when you’re happy,” Ludwig admitted, cheeks red as he returned to his seat. He glanced around the bar, now more relaxed. “Getting a little lost isn’t that bad.”
Gilbert paused his conversation to raise his half-empty glass with a cheer.
“That’s it, bruder! About time you sounded alive.” His gaze softened with affection. He was glad to see his younger brother genuinely happy after so many years killing himself under their father’s strict rules, chasing a career that, although it fueled him, was also consuming him.
Seeing his movement, Feliciano raised his glass as well.
“Ve~, to us!” he shouted in his usual melodious voice.
“To the ones order couldn’t tame,” the albino added.
The glasses clinked, and for an instant, the roar of the music became a symphony.
Hours later, the bar had begun to empty. Instead of simple bikers or passersby, the regulars who knew the place’s customs remained. Feliciano and Ludwig stood outside, under the flickering sign. The Italian leaned against the wall, exhaling cigarette smoke. He hummed contentedly.
“The first time I saw you, I never thought I’d see you like this, ve~, with a decorated jacket and tired eyes. But it suits you, you know? Better than the stress of an office job.”
Ludwig looked at him with a half-smile and bright eyes full of affection. His hair was a little messy. Feliciano liked that.
“You make everything feel less… broken.”
Feliciano stepped closer, just enough to feel the warmth of Ludwig’s skin beneath the rain-soaked, cold clothes.
“Then stay with me,” he murmured, and Ludwig didn’t answer with words.
The blond leaned his forehead against the Italian’s, letting himself sink into the hazelnut sea of his lover’s eyes. And that night, beneath the rain and the muffled noise of the bar, Ludwig made a silent promise. Closing his eyes, he leaned in a bit more and sealed their lips together.
There, he swore never to part from the Italian who had changed his life.