[fic] Things I Almost Remember
Title: Things I Almost Remember
Author/Artist: chromatic_coma @ animusia
Character(s)/Pairing(s) : Veneziano, Ludwig; GerItalia
Genre: Romance, slight angst
Rating: PG/K+
Warning: Angst, slight HRE = Germany
Summary: The all too familiar sensations were threatening to break down all the dams in his mind and maybe he was losing his grip on reality, but he knew Germany would keep his rooted to Earth.
Notes: Done for the hetaliaremix exchange, based on an amazing fic: And A Song Someone Sings by an author that I love and respect very much, halflight007
Special thanks to strawberryburst for betaing this fic.
Things I Almost Remember
Maybe the room is a little warm from the fire, but I don’t regret wearing this oversized sweater. It still smells like him, like Ludwig; musky like his cologne and clean and sharp and a little bit like motor oil and sugar, too, under everything else. I like the way Ludwig smells; wearing this sweater makes me feel safe, like he’s standing with me and watching over me.
But Ludwig is not standing with me, or even near me; he’s outside in the ballroom waiting for me. I know I’m supposed to go back, supposed to stop doing this, but my heart aches sometimes and I really can’t help it. It’s like when I wake up at night and need pasta, only then it’s my stomach that hurts and not my chest which is not really the same thing because the chest pain is much worse.
And so I really can’t help it, when I sit on the piano bench and bite my lip as my fingers curl under the lid and pull it up, ivory skin a stark contrast against ebony wood that sort of makes me want to paint. Except I don’t have paints, and I’m sitting at a piano, so I’ll just play it out. Just like Austria does when he’s upset, except I don’t know if I’m upset. Maybe I am upset; that would explain the pain that fills me again when my fingers line up over the keys, just… just like he taught me.
My lip quivers a little, but I keep biting to hold it still. I brush my nose over the wide collar of the sweater, closing my eyes and inhaling deep enough that Ludwig’s smell fills me up and suddenly I feel warmer than fire, and that heat makes the pain go away a little. A smile tugs at my lips and I feel good again, almost like Ludwig is sitting next to me on the bench and our legs are pressed together and I can just lean my head against his big muscles. Which is silly, because he’s not here, but I don’t think it’s too bad to pretend.
So I take another, smaller breath out, the hot air tickling my chin, and begin to play.
It’s almost amazing how my fingers remember where to go, that once I start the rest flows out of me like a big, rushing river. Only it’s not big and rushing, it’s kind of soft, like a little bubbling brook, or the little blushing boy who taught it to me. And suddenly he’s here too, sitting on the other side of the bench, which is silly because this bench isn’t big enough for all three of us to sit together but I can feel him here and he’s smiling. It might be a little smile, kind of like he’s biting the inside of his mouth so that it doesn’t grow, but I can see the twinkle in his eyes without even looking at him and I know that even if he’s pretending he’s waiting to correct a mistake I’ll make, he is happy. And that makes me happy, too.
I don’t realize I’m lost in my memories until I hear the sound of a sharp exhale, and then an even sharper inhale. My fingers shake over the keyboard, and then I slip and hit the wrong key by mistake and I want to apologize for making a mistake expect there is no one there to apologize to anymore.
Except there is someone there; Ludwig. And he’s standing at the door, his teeth gritted and his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes shut super tight, and his hand is rubbing at his forehead the way he does when I do something silly and he’s exasperated, only this time he’s not exasperated. He’s hurting.
Ludwig is hurting. I want to jump off the bench and run and give him a hug and make his pain go away, only my legs feel like spaghetti and I can’t really move. I can only watch, almost horrified, because I know that it’s my fault he’s in pain. I don’t know how, but I know.
And then he stops being in pain. He looks right at me, his hand falling back to his side and his bright blue eyes tired and… pained. But this is Ludwig; he’s big and strong and not supposed to get hurt. And I want to kiss him until he’s better, but my legs still don’t work. My throat does, though, and I have to break this silence.
“L-Ludwig! I’m sorry, I promised I was going to come back soon and -”
Ludwig shakes his head and sighs, and I feel my heart fall back to where it doesn’t hurt so much again.
“It’s fine,” he sounds tired, but I don’t know what to do to make him sound happy again. “I didn’t know you played, Feliciano.”
My heart stops for a second, because I remember where I’ve seen those pained blue eyes before. But I don’t want Ludwig to know, so I laugh. Laughing is a very good thing to do when you don’t want someone to know you’re hurting, especially if you can fool yourself too. So I laugh and my legs don’t feel like cooked pasta anymore so I can stand up and walk over to him.
I don’t want Ludwig to be hurt anymore, and I don’t want to talk about the piano anymore either, so I touch my hand to his warm forehead and hope that I can suck out the memory of what just transpired with a simple touch.
“Does your head hurt? I don’t know if Roderich has any medicine here, but Lovino says that tomatoes are good for headaches and I always know that pasta clears my head right up -” And I know I’m rambling, but it’s one of those things I can’t help but do.
I think Ludwig knows me a little better than that, though, because he doesn’t let me finish or walk away like everyone else; he grabs my hand that’s on his head and holds it softly, and I realize that I almost never get to touch Ludwig’s bare hand because he usually has gloves on and I stop talking, just like that.
“Where did you learn to play?” he asks, voice low and gentle. It feels like his voice is like honey; warm, soft, sticky, and so tender I almost want to cry. But I can’t lie to him, and I can’t start crying so I bite my lip and I answer.
“…It’s just that one song. Someone I loved deeply taught it to me long ago, when I waited back here for Roderich to finish his party. I’ve never allowed myself to forget it.” I can’t look at Ludwig as I confess this, because they look too much alike, but he won’t remember this. That look of confusion that will be there; that little look of betrayal and hurt and shock that will be gone before he can realize it was on his face will be there, and it stings.
“You left the party,” I hear him say, and maybe it’s just me hoping but he doesn’t sound thick and tense anymore.
“It’s habit,” I busy my fingers in his shirt, but I can’t look him in the face yet. “I was never allowed to join the party when I lived here - the servants never were. So I came back here and played.”
I pause, and look up. Ludwig is looking at me intently, but he’s not hurt anymore. And something in me comes undone, maybe it’s my heart or my soul or my memories or…
I can’t keep looking at him. So look back to the dancing fire and whisper with all I have in me, and maybe he’ll understand what I mean except I know he won’t;
“I’m sorry for leaving you alone.”
I wonder if Ludwig can hear my heart thumping in my chest. It’s so loud; it feels impossible that he can’t. And I want to scream because it feels like there’s a rope around it and it’s being pulled in two different directions; the present, the past; Ludwig and Holy Roman Empire.
But then Ludwig’s warm, calloused fingers curl around my cheek, and my heart relaxes. I beam at him, sliding his hand to my lips and kissing his palm gently. And when I look up again, it’s almost like he gets it. That he understands; yes, I did love in the past, but now I’m his. That makes me smile a little more, a little softer, because there’s nothing else I want to be but his.
I move a little closer to him, taking more of the warmth I know he would give me. I want to bury my face in his chest and stay like that, but I have to make sure Ludwig is happy, too. And then I remember why he came looking for me here at all.
“Do you want to go back to the party?”
Ludwig is silent for a moment, and my heart flutters in hope that he might want to stay here. But even if he doesn’t, that’s okay. Because I’ll be with him, and we’ll be happy.
“I think I like it here. It’s warm,” he finally says. “And…I’d like to hear the rest of the song.”
And then my heart flutters again, and I wonder if maybe he would be upset at me if I played it for Ludwig. But Ludwig looks down at me, and he’s not being scary or forcing me; if anything, he looks nervous.
He would want me to play this, I realize, that is why he gave it to me.
I beam at Ludwig; beam, and wrap my hand around his wrist happily.
“Ve~! I-I’m not sure I remember the whole thing, it’s been a while, but I’ll do my best for you, Ludwig -”
Ludwig doesn’t answer, but that’s okay too. Because he sits down next to me, just like I wanted, and I can feel his warmth keep me calm. And I don’t need to bury my face in the sweater anymore, because now I have the real thing only a whisper away.
So I put my fingers on the keys again, but this time the song comes from me and not a memory. I’m the one pressing the keys, making my fingers dance, and I know that Ludwig is watching. When I hear him cough and feel him shift, I want to giggle and look up, because I know that means he’s blushing, but I don’t. I close my eyes and feel him, imagine that he is blushing because he feels the love I’m playing.
And then I’m lost too, but not in the music. Maybe Lovino would yell at me if I said this, but I can think this all I want; I’m lost in my love for Ludwig, and I don’t mind in the least.
Once again it’s Ludwig who rouses me from my daydreams, when his head slips and falls on my shoulder. The song is slow enough that I can turn to look at him, smile at the way the wrinkles in his forehead melt when he’s sleeping, how beautiful my Ludwig really is. And then he snores and I jump, but when I recover I chuckle at how completely innocent and cute it was.
I can’t help it; I take my fingers off the keys and hope he doesn’t wake up, because I want to feel his face under my fingers. He relaxes even more, nuzzling his nose into my neck and making me laugh breathlessly, and I wonder if I’m only imagining that he sighed.
I want to tell him about all this when he wakes up, because then maybe his cheeks will go pink and his voice will get all high and flustered as he tries to deny it, but for now all I can do is smile at him, big and silly and irrevocably in love.
End.
--
A/N: I hope you all enjoyed, I would like to ask that you please go read the original fic on which this was based, which is linked to above, and I especially would like to thank halflight007 for sharing her amazing writing in this exchange, miaoujones for hosting this event, as well as all those who participated and read the fics. Thank you all so much!
Author/Artist: chromatic_coma @ animusia
Character(s)/Pairing(s) : Veneziano, Ludwig; GerItalia
Genre: Romance, slight angst
Rating: PG/K+
Warning: Angst, slight HRE = Germany
Summary: The all too familiar sensations were threatening to break down all the dams in his mind and maybe he was losing his grip on reality, but he knew Germany would keep his rooted to Earth.
Notes: Done for the hetaliaremix exchange, based on an amazing fic: And A Song Someone Sings by an author that I love and respect very much, halflight007
Special thanks to strawberryburst for betaing this fic.
Things I Almost Remember
Maybe the room is a little warm from the fire, but I don’t regret wearing this oversized sweater. It still smells like him, like Ludwig; musky like his cologne and clean and sharp and a little bit like motor oil and sugar, too, under everything else. I like the way Ludwig smells; wearing this sweater makes me feel safe, like he’s standing with me and watching over me.
But Ludwig is not standing with me, or even near me; he’s outside in the ballroom waiting for me. I know I’m supposed to go back, supposed to stop doing this, but my heart aches sometimes and I really can’t help it. It’s like when I wake up at night and need pasta, only then it’s my stomach that hurts and not my chest which is not really the same thing because the chest pain is much worse.
And so I really can’t help it, when I sit on the piano bench and bite my lip as my fingers curl under the lid and pull it up, ivory skin a stark contrast against ebony wood that sort of makes me want to paint. Except I don’t have paints, and I’m sitting at a piano, so I’ll just play it out. Just like Austria does when he’s upset, except I don’t know if I’m upset. Maybe I am upset; that would explain the pain that fills me again when my fingers line up over the keys, just… just like he taught me.
My lip quivers a little, but I keep biting to hold it still. I brush my nose over the wide collar of the sweater, closing my eyes and inhaling deep enough that Ludwig’s smell fills me up and suddenly I feel warmer than fire, and that heat makes the pain go away a little. A smile tugs at my lips and I feel good again, almost like Ludwig is sitting next to me on the bench and our legs are pressed together and I can just lean my head against his big muscles. Which is silly, because he’s not here, but I don’t think it’s too bad to pretend.
So I take another, smaller breath out, the hot air tickling my chin, and begin to play.
It’s almost amazing how my fingers remember where to go, that once I start the rest flows out of me like a big, rushing river. Only it’s not big and rushing, it’s kind of soft, like a little bubbling brook, or the little blushing boy who taught it to me. And suddenly he’s here too, sitting on the other side of the bench, which is silly because this bench isn’t big enough for all three of us to sit together but I can feel him here and he’s smiling. It might be a little smile, kind of like he’s biting the inside of his mouth so that it doesn’t grow, but I can see the twinkle in his eyes without even looking at him and I know that even if he’s pretending he’s waiting to correct a mistake I’ll make, he is happy. And that makes me happy, too.
I don’t realize I’m lost in my memories until I hear the sound of a sharp exhale, and then an even sharper inhale. My fingers shake over the keyboard, and then I slip and hit the wrong key by mistake and I want to apologize for making a mistake expect there is no one there to apologize to anymore.
Except there is someone there; Ludwig. And he’s standing at the door, his teeth gritted and his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes shut super tight, and his hand is rubbing at his forehead the way he does when I do something silly and he’s exasperated, only this time he’s not exasperated. He’s hurting.
Ludwig is hurting. I want to jump off the bench and run and give him a hug and make his pain go away, only my legs feel like spaghetti and I can’t really move. I can only watch, almost horrified, because I know that it’s my fault he’s in pain. I don’t know how, but I know.
And then he stops being in pain. He looks right at me, his hand falling back to his side and his bright blue eyes tired and… pained. But this is Ludwig; he’s big and strong and not supposed to get hurt. And I want to kiss him until he’s better, but my legs still don’t work. My throat does, though, and I have to break this silence.
“L-Ludwig! I’m sorry, I promised I was going to come back soon and -”
Ludwig shakes his head and sighs, and I feel my heart fall back to where it doesn’t hurt so much again.
“It’s fine,” he sounds tired, but I don’t know what to do to make him sound happy again. “I didn’t know you played, Feliciano.”
My heart stops for a second, because I remember where I’ve seen those pained blue eyes before. But I don’t want Ludwig to know, so I laugh. Laughing is a very good thing to do when you don’t want someone to know you’re hurting, especially if you can fool yourself too. So I laugh and my legs don’t feel like cooked pasta anymore so I can stand up and walk over to him.
I don’t want Ludwig to be hurt anymore, and I don’t want to talk about the piano anymore either, so I touch my hand to his warm forehead and hope that I can suck out the memory of what just transpired with a simple touch.
“Does your head hurt? I don’t know if Roderich has any medicine here, but Lovino says that tomatoes are good for headaches and I always know that pasta clears my head right up -” And I know I’m rambling, but it’s one of those things I can’t help but do.
I think Ludwig knows me a little better than that, though, because he doesn’t let me finish or walk away like everyone else; he grabs my hand that’s on his head and holds it softly, and I realize that I almost never get to touch Ludwig’s bare hand because he usually has gloves on and I stop talking, just like that.
“Where did you learn to play?” he asks, voice low and gentle. It feels like his voice is like honey; warm, soft, sticky, and so tender I almost want to cry. But I can’t lie to him, and I can’t start crying so I bite my lip and I answer.
“…It’s just that one song. Someone I loved deeply taught it to me long ago, when I waited back here for Roderich to finish his party. I’ve never allowed myself to forget it.” I can’t look at Ludwig as I confess this, because they look too much alike, but he won’t remember this. That look of confusion that will be there; that little look of betrayal and hurt and shock that will be gone before he can realize it was on his face will be there, and it stings.
“You left the party,” I hear him say, and maybe it’s just me hoping but he doesn’t sound thick and tense anymore.
“It’s habit,” I busy my fingers in his shirt, but I can’t look him in the face yet. “I was never allowed to join the party when I lived here - the servants never were. So I came back here and played.”
I pause, and look up. Ludwig is looking at me intently, but he’s not hurt anymore. And something in me comes undone, maybe it’s my heart or my soul or my memories or…
I can’t keep looking at him. So look back to the dancing fire and whisper with all I have in me, and maybe he’ll understand what I mean except I know he won’t;
“I’m sorry for leaving you alone.”
I wonder if Ludwig can hear my heart thumping in my chest. It’s so loud; it feels impossible that he can’t. And I want to scream because it feels like there’s a rope around it and it’s being pulled in two different directions; the present, the past; Ludwig and Holy Roman Empire.
But then Ludwig’s warm, calloused fingers curl around my cheek, and my heart relaxes. I beam at him, sliding his hand to my lips and kissing his palm gently. And when I look up again, it’s almost like he gets it. That he understands; yes, I did love in the past, but now I’m his. That makes me smile a little more, a little softer, because there’s nothing else I want to be but his.
I move a little closer to him, taking more of the warmth I know he would give me. I want to bury my face in his chest and stay like that, but I have to make sure Ludwig is happy, too. And then I remember why he came looking for me here at all.
“Do you want to go back to the party?”
Ludwig is silent for a moment, and my heart flutters in hope that he might want to stay here. But even if he doesn’t, that’s okay. Because I’ll be with him, and we’ll be happy.
“I think I like it here. It’s warm,” he finally says. “And…I’d like to hear the rest of the song.”
And then my heart flutters again, and I wonder if maybe he would be upset at me if I played it for Ludwig. But Ludwig looks down at me, and he’s not being scary or forcing me; if anything, he looks nervous.
He would want me to play this, I realize, that is why he gave it to me.
I beam at Ludwig; beam, and wrap my hand around his wrist happily.
“Ve~! I-I’m not sure I remember the whole thing, it’s been a while, but I’ll do my best for you, Ludwig -”
Ludwig doesn’t answer, but that’s okay too. Because he sits down next to me, just like I wanted, and I can feel his warmth keep me calm. And I don’t need to bury my face in the sweater anymore, because now I have the real thing only a whisper away.
So I put my fingers on the keys again, but this time the song comes from me and not a memory. I’m the one pressing the keys, making my fingers dance, and I know that Ludwig is watching. When I hear him cough and feel him shift, I want to giggle and look up, because I know that means he’s blushing, but I don’t. I close my eyes and feel him, imagine that he is blushing because he feels the love I’m playing.
And then I’m lost too, but not in the music. Maybe Lovino would yell at me if I said this, but I can think this all I want; I’m lost in my love for Ludwig, and I don’t mind in the least.
Once again it’s Ludwig who rouses me from my daydreams, when his head slips and falls on my shoulder. The song is slow enough that I can turn to look at him, smile at the way the wrinkles in his forehead melt when he’s sleeping, how beautiful my Ludwig really is. And then he snores and I jump, but when I recover I chuckle at how completely innocent and cute it was.
I can’t help it; I take my fingers off the keys and hope he doesn’t wake up, because I want to feel his face under my fingers. He relaxes even more, nuzzling his nose into my neck and making me laugh breathlessly, and I wonder if I’m only imagining that he sighed.
I want to tell him about all this when he wakes up, because then maybe his cheeks will go pink and his voice will get all high and flustered as he tries to deny it, but for now all I can do is smile at him, big and silly and irrevocably in love.
End.
--
A/N: I hope you all enjoyed, I would like to ask that you please go read the original fic on which this was based, which is linked to above, and I especially would like to thank halflight007 for sharing her amazing writing in this exchange, miaoujones for hosting this event, as well as all those who participated and read the fics. Thank you all so much!