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Chapter Text

It's August. Summer is here in the warm , absolutely gorgeous street of Vienna , Austria. Such a perfect time to take a stroll down with ethereal non-stop piano sound in your ears. To drink warm tea while walking pass the Schönbrunn palace . . .

And such a perfect time for this city with a rich musical heritage to have a music event.

And to have such a great musician , Roderich Edelstein , playing his piano for the people to hear.

The morning before the event to start.

In Roderich's house.

He sits in his so called ' music room '. Actually , the room used to be an empty room with dust and storage room for Hungary to stored her stuff. Her old brooms , old dirty clothes she used to clean the house. At that time , Roderich decided he wanted a separated music room some how.

So now , he spends most time in the room reading the music notes , remembering the keys and preparing himself to look good , to impress someone . . . perhaps . . . his childhood friend , Basch Zwingli. 

Roderich pondered about him for days , even weeks after he got invited to the music event in the big city. Roderich heard from Hungary that Basch came to Vienna just to see him play in the event. He didn't believe her at all. That kid is strict about money like a piece of candy would cost a million franc swiss. Why would he come? He doesn't care about him right? Doesn't Basch hate him? Why would he  . . . - !

Roderich almost have a heart attack when he heard a loud knock on his front door downstairs. Wait , is Hungary back? Didn't she just went out minutes ago? The Austrian sits on his elegant bedsheets for a while in silence , observing carefully before he push himself up with his coat swaying when he turns to the door.

Roderich walks down the stairs , rushed to the door and swings the door open.

By the door , he signs in relief when he sees the mailman walks off with a soft smile and letters in the mail box. He looks at him until he disappeared behind the quiet neighborhood.

" Must be the reminder letters from the music hall . . . " he mutters quietly to himself. He walks up to the mailbox and grasp those envelopes , fingers brushed on the edges and flipped one letter away , expecting another letter from the event. . . 

But no , it's not.

His heart sinks when he sees the familiar name , He squints and glances again. 

" From : Basch Zwingli "

Excitement , Fear , Melancholy hit him all at the same time. This kid . . . sent a letter for me? For me? Why would he do that? He doesn't believe his eyes , that moment he got a letter from Basch. He feels a sharp , cold pain in his heart , the kind of pain you get when you try to hold back tears. The kind of pain to miss , to yearn for someone so deeply , And to love that someone deep down to the core of your heart.

The brunette runs inside , shuts the door with his gloved hand. And runs upstairs to his bedroom. He jumps on the bed , exhausted. Sweats dropped from his flushed cheeks. " Keine Chance . . ." 

He grab the envelope , almost crushed it. Looking at the familiar hand writing. Might not be the best to others , but its the most beautiful handwriting he have ever seen. Those semi-cursive words written with some cheap black ink Basch probably got secondhanded. The old stamp on the top right glued on weakly. And the way Basch write his name so beautifully , so carefully , He could write a whole song about this moment.

He tears the envelope off and snatch the thin , soft brown paper inside and carefully open up the folds revealing a short paragraph. The paper is wrinkled , wrinkled like the paper you put underneath your pillow and forget it there. Which Basch probably did.

The brunette held the paper up close to his soft-hooked nose , sniffing the paper to sense the smell of Basch's pillow. He remembers the scent like it happened this morning. The sweet , sweet scent. Its been years but he will never forget it. He throws his body on his bed and reads the well written paragraphs inside.

" Dear , Roderich.

Roderich , how are you doing. I hope you're doing really well. I dont know why I write this to you. I would say , I miss you so much. I couldn't eat or sleep knowing you will perform on the stage on the music event in Vienna far away from where I live. The alps is warm now , and I miss you even more. It reminds me of when we were some stupid kids running around the field. I wish to see you again. I don't feel like myself writing this at all. But I'll do anything for you to see you perform. I'll take the train from here with Liechtenstein. I'll see you. 

From : Basch "

After reading all of these words , these sentences from the boy he miss and love from the root of his weak heart. The Austrian feels empty , but the emptiness he feels is also getting filled with limerence , with excitement to see the blonde in the crowd. 

Roderich shuts his eyes with the envelope and the paper still gently rest on his chest listening to his fast heartbeat , his fingers hold them possessively.

Suddenly , he push himself up and  walk infront of his shelves filled with books and his secret journals no one will ever knew whats inside. He begins running his finger across the dusted leather wrapped books. He grab one of them and flipped the cover. Revealed the pressed edelweiss flower he left it there for years. His amethyst eyes sparked. His gloved finger gently lift the dried flower up and let it rest on his hands. He remembers everything about this flower , he picked it from the alps with Basch years ago and they hold it together , what a sweet moment. He would die to experience it again one more time. 

He runs to the dressing room , stomping to his hanged suit he will wear for the event tomorrow. His hands run across the black , perfectly ironed pants as he put the edelweiss inside the pocket so carefully , he doesnt want it to be shattered into dry pieces and the white fluff of the flower will make a mess on his pants.

He will and must give the edelweiss to Basch. To proof his love to Basch. To confess his feelings. No matter how hard it is. And no matter how many meters he have to run to search and chase for Basch , He will find him and give this love he have.

He runs back to his bedroom and locks the wooden door. Crawling onto his bed with his hand caressing the envelope. His eyes half shut as he look up at the big ceiling , whispering to himself.

"Until tomorrow , Basch Zwingli."