[Fan Fiction] In Remembrance I Relive [2/?]
Title: In Remembrance I Relive
Author/Artist: Sami-Fire (Me!)
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Prussia, Germany, Russia (In later chapters)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Clusters of foul language and allusions to rape (that doesn't enter the picture yet, though). Also, AAAAAAAAAAANNNNNGGGGSSSSTTT, mental breakdowns, and some odd concepts.
Summary: Prussia's past comes back to haunt him in an almost literal sense, causing him to take stock of his current life. He doesn't like what he sees.
Today, Gilbert idles in the basement of the little brother that he raised. He vacantly spins around in the chair in front of his computer, which he chiefly uses to update his blog, Twitter, Facebook, and Livejournal. Knowledge of how to use this new technology came to him a little more slowly than it did for the other nations, but once he got a handle on it, there was no stopping him from using it to “spread the awesome around.”
He spins two circles clockwise, then three circles in the opposite direction, dizzily coming to a stop to stare at the wall for a moment. It fails to be worthy of his attention for more than a minute, and he goes back to fidgeting with his computer’s mouse. In his boredom, he gets a powerful craving for strawberry ice cream (the kind that loves to end up splattered all over his computer), so he goes to get some.
He stops when he hears someone call his name, stiffening up and listening for any subsequent sounds of interest, but hears nothing. He turns back to his computer, but barely gets a chance to do anything before he hears the voice again.
This time, a quick look over his shoulder is rewarded, for Friedrich II is sitting right behind him, patiently waiting for him to take notice. Gilbert blinks and looks again, but his former king doesn’t disappear. Almost on reflex, he kneels before his favorite ruler. “Old Fritz! What brings you here?” he blurts out, delirium and excitement overtaking him at the sight of his old friend. He was the only one who ever got away with speaking so informally in front of the king.
For a moment, he nearly apologizes for the shoddy accommodations, but then realizes he doesn’t need to. He’s in the opulent throne room of his glory days, after all. This is his true home, not that dingy, drab basement.
Old Fritz just smiles gently, not speaking at all. Naturally, Gilbert sees fit to fill the silence. “So, what’s it gonna be today? Are we gonna splatter the Austrians again? Just give the order and I’ll do what I do best,” he says, his grin every bit as wide as it used to be in those times. Still no response from his leader, only that smile.
Just when it looks like he’s about to say something, Gilbert hears the sound of a door opening, and he turns to see a young Ludwig peeking in on them. He sees fit to correct the boy. “Aw, c’mon, West! Can’t you see I’m a little busy with Old Fritz here?” He almost doesn’t care what he’s saying; his favorite king is back, and he’s more than ready to carry out his commands.
Meanwhile, hundreds of years away, Ludwig stares at his brother kneeling down in front of his bed and chuckles. Walking in on Gilbert talking to Old Fritz is nothing unusual. The reference to him is a bit odd, however, for Ludwig wasn’t even around during the time Gilbert considered his absolute peak, and Gilbert never normally seems to notice that the intruder on his sessions is his brother. Nonetheless, Ludwig dismisses the oddity and shuts the door to the basement.
* * *
Once again, Gilbert finds himself idle, this time on the living room couch. His days are quiet and peaceful, but undeniably boring. It’s not as if he has much to do these days, even when Ludwig drags him along to meetings or other functions he gets to participate in as a nation. The “he” in this case refers to Ludwig, for no matter what he tells Gilbert, the elder brother will always say that the nation he represents is gone, and with it his power and glory. Gilbert doesn’t like to think about that, much less to talk about it. Not one bit.
He had flashes of that empty feeling days before, after his talk (albeit a one-sided one) with Old Fritz the other day. After Ludwig had shut the door, he looked back to find that Fritz was gone, and he was back in his basement. After some frenzied searching that involved looking in some unusual places out of sheer confusion (he lost count of how many boxes he had looked inside), he collapsed onto his bed (so small compared to the one he had in the days when he was in charge) and stared at the ceiling, suddenly feeling very claustrophobic in that little room.
Every time he looks at his bedroom, he is reminded of how far in the past his prime was and how far he has sunk. He used to be a mighty warrior, commanding respect even if he came off as an arrogant blowhard. Now he has become a relic, an antique shoved into the basement to collect dust as days slowly passed by.
The thought sends an overwhelming wave of loneliness crashing over him, and in a desperate attempt to cover it up before he gives in to it, he grabs a pillow and holds it as close as he can. It isn’t much, but it’s something to hold onto, something warm, soft, and most importantly, real. He closes his eyes and prays that the spell passes before Ludwig comes back into the room.
“Brother?”
Gilbert hears a child’s voice say that word, and the familiarity jars him into opening his eyes.
A young Ludwig is in his arms, pressed close to him, but not returning the embrace. The child can't possibly be older than six or seven years old. "Hey, West," Gilbert says, loosening the hold so as not to squish the little boy. "What are you up to now?" His voice loses the loud, aggressive edge it normally has, becoming soft and gentle (or as soft and gentle as his voice can get, at any rate). It's a demeanor he has reserved specifically just for moments like these with his little brother. He considers it his favorite secret (if his worst-kept), one he keeps close to his heart.
He looks around the room, recognizing it as his bedroom in the mansion he used to have in his days of glory, so much more luxurious than his lodgings in the basement. For one, he actually had a bed that he could fully spread out on without dangling off the edge even a bit. In fact, it was big enough for two people. Such luxuries were commonplace to him when he was on top of the world.
Little Ludwig simply stares up at his older brother before trying to wriggle out of his grip. "N-nothing, brother. Nothing at all." Even back then, Ludwig was a stoic child, afraid to let his big brother know if he was scared or sick. He was both of those quite frequently, the latter more so than the former.
Yes, big, strong, hardy Ludwig had been a very sickly child. He was just as good as keeping up a facade of strength then as he was now, though, and he would always deny that there was anything wrong if asked. It was a trait that grew out of wanting to be as strong as his big brother someday, and even though it earned him nothing but rebukes from Gilbert, he kept doing it.
"You're not feeling sick, are you? Don't be afraid to tell me if you are," Gilbert strokes Ludwig's head, his hair soft and centuries away from that damned hair gel. "I always tell you that there's a line between being strong and fighting through sickness and being stupid about it. If you're sick, you should always try getting better first, if you can. You don't have to be so tough about it just yet."
"But... but it's practice for when I do have to be tough. You never let a cold set you back." The boy is pouting a little, and that just makes Gilbert want to squeeze him that much tighter. For such an unchildlike child, Ludwig has his moments that can melt even his big Prussian brother.
"That's only because I always have things to do, even when I'm sick, so I can't make getting better my first plan. And you know I'm too tough to get sick that often, so it's not like it matters, right?" Gilbert laughs and ruffles the boy's hair, sending him into a tizzy. Once a neat freak, always a neat freak.
"B-brother! Don't do thaaaaaat!" Ludwig squeals, trying to put his hair back into place.
Gilbert laughs at the boy, who is so orderly for someone who is so young. "You're too young to worry about that kind of thing, though, so you should just relax and focus on getting better again."
Little Ludwig slowly brings his hands down and tries to stand strong, tall, at attention, just like he's seen Big Brother do. He's trying to cover up that little bit of weakness that slipped through, even though he's having some difficulty staying upright due to factors he wasn’t quite expecting. "I-I don't get it. What difference does it make how old I am? If you're strong, I should be strong, too!" He is indignant, as if he has to defend his right to hide his pain.
"Oh, come on, don't get all tough like that. You just have to accept that you are too young to worry so much. That's just how it is." Gilbert draws Ludwig close again, even as the little boy tries to pull away. He wants his little brother to grow up big and strong, and he doesn't mind having to take care of him one bit. Sometimes, in his mind, he even finds himself calling Ludwig his baby brother instead of simply his younger one. He'll admit that he sometimes babies his brother, but it seems that a child like him is near impossible to spoil. Where he got such unusual discipline is a mystery, even if it can be traced back to that boy’s desire to be just like his big brother.
Looking after a child is quite different from what Gilbert is used to, but he has no objections to it at all. He finds something deeply satisfying about having someone who truly needs him, someone to be responsible for. He can't explain why something that runs so counter to his warrior nature makes him feel so happy.
He notices that Ludwig has relaxed in his arms, finally returning the hug, but it seems odd for him to relax so suddenly. "Are you okay, West?"
Ludwig looks up somewhat languidly, his eyes looking a bit glazed over. "Mm-hmm... I'm fine... I'm just a little sleepy, but it's nothing. I'll be okay."
It is never just "nothing." Gilbert lays the back of his hand on Ludwig's forehead to find it slightly warm. "Wrong answer. Your fever's up again. And normally, when your fever comes back, so do your body aches. I'm right, aren't I?"
Caught in the act, Ludwig sighs, disappointed at being found out. "Mm-hmm... it doesn't hurt too much, though." The tears shining in his eyes betray him.
"What did I just tell you? Don't try to strain yourself if you can get well first! You should be in bed!" Gilbert has had to chastise his strange little brother about this facade thousands of times. "You came here because it hurts and you wanted me nearby to make it hurt less, didn't you?" The poor, sick boy nods. "Why didn't you just say so? There's nothing wrong with being in pain. You're just a kid. You don't have to shrug it off just yet. We just went over this,” the Prussian continues, gently stroking the back of his brother’s head and trying to soothe him. “Someday, you'll grow up to be big and strong, and by then you'll be ready to handle these kinds of things. But for now, just take it easy, okay?"
Gilbert knows that his brother is just going to repeat this episode, and he'll have to repeat the lecture as well, but he doesn't really mind. He can be happy off the battlefield, too. He loves his little brother with every drop of affection in his heart, and he knows for sure that, with his help, the boy is destined for greatness. He holds his dear little brother close, as if to keep him as safe as possible, even though there’s no lurking threat but Ludwig’s illness.
Elsewhere, Ludwig walks in on an entirely different scene. “Gilbert? What are you doing to that pillow?” Gilbert picks up his head to look at him, but other than that he receives no response. “Why are you holding it and talking to it like it’s your child?” He can’t hide the confusion in his voice.
Gilbert rolls his eyes, absentmindedly tousling the hair of the little boy in front of him despite the latter’s objections. Again with people mistaking Ludwig for his son! Too many people have been surprised by his apparent “paternal instincts” to count. As usual, he has to set those mistaken people straight. “He’s not my kid, he’s my little brother,” he says to the baffled retainer that just bumbled into the room. "I know everyone sees how I am with him, but why do you people think he's my kid? I-"
Ludwig lunges forward and shakes Gilbert out of his world, eyes wide with shock. "I'm your little brother, and I'm right here!"
On reflex, Gilbert hits Ludwig's hands off his shoulder, like an animal striking out in self-defense. He blinks, shakes his head, looks around, and then stares through Ludwig for a moment, still holding that pillow. "What... about my..." he mumbles, as if he's still waking up. Another set of bewildered blinks later, he comes back to reality and replies to Ludwig with a wide, nervous grin. "Of course you're my little brother! What the hell are you going on about, West?" He has a feeling that he has been asking that question a lot lately.
"You seemed to think I was the pillow," Ludwig grunts, unable to hide the baffled irritation in his voice. "Do you have any idea how creepy that looked?" Gilbert's shrug says no. "You were talking to an inanimate object like it was a living person. Worse yet, you were talking to an inanimate object like it was me. That's something 'crazy' people do, Gilbert."
The connection of the word "crazy" to Gilbert stings him deeply. "Um... yeah. That is crazy talk," he murmurs, awkwardly discarding the pillow onto the floor, then putting it back on the couch when met with Ludwig's glare. "I was just... thinking, you know? About old times, I mean. When you were a kid and I took care of you." He scans the floor, avoiding eye contact with his brother. "You used to be so cute," he adds with a quiet chuckle.
Ludwig gives his brother a funny look, but tries not to let the strange episode get to him. "Well... Just don't do that again, okay? It's disturbing."
"Gotcha," Gilbert replies, adding a mock salute for effect and still smiling away to hide the fact that he's just as confused as Ludwig is. He never talked to a pillow. He was talking to his little brother.
The strange episode gets to Ludwig anyway, even as he tries to force a tiny smile on his way back to the kitchen. He isn't one to get creeped out easily, but something about the way Gilbert was talking to that pillow unsettles him. It's not that he has a problem with what was said. He remembers those kinds of conversations with his older brother fondly, and he'll never deny that Gilbert was quite responsible around him, almost like a father figure.
Ludwig quickly shakes that last notion out of his head, since that kind of comparison is another can of worms entirely. His brother was, and still is, simply his brother, and a good one at that.
No, what really bothers Ludwig was how wrapped up Gilbert was in that fantasy, how happy he seemed to be with the little brother that Ludwig used to be. He knows that Gilbert isn't always happy with his present situation, and that dissatisfaction sometimes spreads into how he treats him. However, he seems to love the past so much more than his present, even to the point of rejecting his brother's current incarnation for the one in his memories. A fixation like that can only be dangerous.
This incident is yet another one in a string of episodes of odd behaviors that Ludwig has noticed. Never before has he seen Gilbert so prone to fantasies and reminiscence, spacing out at random times and constantly talking about history. It's especially bad when he's in the basement. It seems that he's staring off into space or talking to himself every single time Ludwig goes downstairs, like a bizarre coping mechanism he needs to keep himself sane in there.
Ludwig feels the worry course through his body and tense him up. He has someone he calls whenever his anxiety gets this bad. Maybe that person will have some idea of what to do.
Author/Artist: Sami-Fire (Me!)
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Prussia, Germany, Russia (In later chapters)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Clusters of foul language and allusions to rape (that doesn't enter the picture yet, though). Also, AAAAAAAAAAANNNNNGGGGSSSSTTT, mental breakdowns, and some odd concepts.
Summary: Prussia's past comes back to haunt him in an almost literal sense, causing him to take stock of his current life. He doesn't like what he sees.
Today, Gilbert idles in the basement of the little brother that he raised. He vacantly spins around in the chair in front of his computer, which he chiefly uses to update his blog, Twitter, Facebook, and Livejournal. Knowledge of how to use this new technology came to him a little more slowly than it did for the other nations, but once he got a handle on it, there was no stopping him from using it to “spread the awesome around.”
He spins two circles clockwise, then three circles in the opposite direction, dizzily coming to a stop to stare at the wall for a moment. It fails to be worthy of his attention for more than a minute, and he goes back to fidgeting with his computer’s mouse. In his boredom, he gets a powerful craving for strawberry ice cream (the kind that loves to end up splattered all over his computer), so he goes to get some.
He stops when he hears someone call his name, stiffening up and listening for any subsequent sounds of interest, but hears nothing. He turns back to his computer, but barely gets a chance to do anything before he hears the voice again.
This time, a quick look over his shoulder is rewarded, for Friedrich II is sitting right behind him, patiently waiting for him to take notice. Gilbert blinks and looks again, but his former king doesn’t disappear. Almost on reflex, he kneels before his favorite ruler. “Old Fritz! What brings you here?” he blurts out, delirium and excitement overtaking him at the sight of his old friend. He was the only one who ever got away with speaking so informally in front of the king.
For a moment, he nearly apologizes for the shoddy accommodations, but then realizes he doesn’t need to. He’s in the opulent throne room of his glory days, after all. This is his true home, not that dingy, drab basement.
Old Fritz just smiles gently, not speaking at all. Naturally, Gilbert sees fit to fill the silence. “So, what’s it gonna be today? Are we gonna splatter the Austrians again? Just give the order and I’ll do what I do best,” he says, his grin every bit as wide as it used to be in those times. Still no response from his leader, only that smile.
Just when it looks like he’s about to say something, Gilbert hears the sound of a door opening, and he turns to see a young Ludwig peeking in on them. He sees fit to correct the boy. “Aw, c’mon, West! Can’t you see I’m a little busy with Old Fritz here?” He almost doesn’t care what he’s saying; his favorite king is back, and he’s more than ready to carry out his commands.
Meanwhile, hundreds of years away, Ludwig stares at his brother kneeling down in front of his bed and chuckles. Walking in on Gilbert talking to Old Fritz is nothing unusual. The reference to him is a bit odd, however, for Ludwig wasn’t even around during the time Gilbert considered his absolute peak, and Gilbert never normally seems to notice that the intruder on his sessions is his brother. Nonetheless, Ludwig dismisses the oddity and shuts the door to the basement.
* * *
Once again, Gilbert finds himself idle, this time on the living room couch. His days are quiet and peaceful, but undeniably boring. It’s not as if he has much to do these days, even when Ludwig drags him along to meetings or other functions he gets to participate in as a nation. The “he” in this case refers to Ludwig, for no matter what he tells Gilbert, the elder brother will always say that the nation he represents is gone, and with it his power and glory. Gilbert doesn’t like to think about that, much less to talk about it. Not one bit.
He had flashes of that empty feeling days before, after his talk (albeit a one-sided one) with Old Fritz the other day. After Ludwig had shut the door, he looked back to find that Fritz was gone, and he was back in his basement. After some frenzied searching that involved looking in some unusual places out of sheer confusion (he lost count of how many boxes he had looked inside), he collapsed onto his bed (so small compared to the one he had in the days when he was in charge) and stared at the ceiling, suddenly feeling very claustrophobic in that little room.
Every time he looks at his bedroom, he is reminded of how far in the past his prime was and how far he has sunk. He used to be a mighty warrior, commanding respect even if he came off as an arrogant blowhard. Now he has become a relic, an antique shoved into the basement to collect dust as days slowly passed by.
The thought sends an overwhelming wave of loneliness crashing over him, and in a desperate attempt to cover it up before he gives in to it, he grabs a pillow and holds it as close as he can. It isn’t much, but it’s something to hold onto, something warm, soft, and most importantly, real. He closes his eyes and prays that the spell passes before Ludwig comes back into the room.
“Brother?”
Gilbert hears a child’s voice say that word, and the familiarity jars him into opening his eyes.
A young Ludwig is in his arms, pressed close to him, but not returning the embrace. The child can't possibly be older than six or seven years old. "Hey, West," Gilbert says, loosening the hold so as not to squish the little boy. "What are you up to now?" His voice loses the loud, aggressive edge it normally has, becoming soft and gentle (or as soft and gentle as his voice can get, at any rate). It's a demeanor he has reserved specifically just for moments like these with his little brother. He considers it his favorite secret (if his worst-kept), one he keeps close to his heart.
He looks around the room, recognizing it as his bedroom in the mansion he used to have in his days of glory, so much more luxurious than his lodgings in the basement. For one, he actually had a bed that he could fully spread out on without dangling off the edge even a bit. In fact, it was big enough for two people. Such luxuries were commonplace to him when he was on top of the world.
Little Ludwig simply stares up at his older brother before trying to wriggle out of his grip. "N-nothing, brother. Nothing at all." Even back then, Ludwig was a stoic child, afraid to let his big brother know if he was scared or sick. He was both of those quite frequently, the latter more so than the former.
Yes, big, strong, hardy Ludwig had been a very sickly child. He was just as good as keeping up a facade of strength then as he was now, though, and he would always deny that there was anything wrong if asked. It was a trait that grew out of wanting to be as strong as his big brother someday, and even though it earned him nothing but rebukes from Gilbert, he kept doing it.
"You're not feeling sick, are you? Don't be afraid to tell me if you are," Gilbert strokes Ludwig's head, his hair soft and centuries away from that damned hair gel. "I always tell you that there's a line between being strong and fighting through sickness and being stupid about it. If you're sick, you should always try getting better first, if you can. You don't have to be so tough about it just yet."
"But... but it's practice for when I do have to be tough. You never let a cold set you back." The boy is pouting a little, and that just makes Gilbert want to squeeze him that much tighter. For such an unchildlike child, Ludwig has his moments that can melt even his big Prussian brother.
"That's only because I always have things to do, even when I'm sick, so I can't make getting better my first plan. And you know I'm too tough to get sick that often, so it's not like it matters, right?" Gilbert laughs and ruffles the boy's hair, sending him into a tizzy. Once a neat freak, always a neat freak.
"B-brother! Don't do thaaaaaat!" Ludwig squeals, trying to put his hair back into place.
Gilbert laughs at the boy, who is so orderly for someone who is so young. "You're too young to worry about that kind of thing, though, so you should just relax and focus on getting better again."
Little Ludwig slowly brings his hands down and tries to stand strong, tall, at attention, just like he's seen Big Brother do. He's trying to cover up that little bit of weakness that slipped through, even though he's having some difficulty staying upright due to factors he wasn’t quite expecting. "I-I don't get it. What difference does it make how old I am? If you're strong, I should be strong, too!" He is indignant, as if he has to defend his right to hide his pain.
"Oh, come on, don't get all tough like that. You just have to accept that you are too young to worry so much. That's just how it is." Gilbert draws Ludwig close again, even as the little boy tries to pull away. He wants his little brother to grow up big and strong, and he doesn't mind having to take care of him one bit. Sometimes, in his mind, he even finds himself calling Ludwig his baby brother instead of simply his younger one. He'll admit that he sometimes babies his brother, but it seems that a child like him is near impossible to spoil. Where he got such unusual discipline is a mystery, even if it can be traced back to that boy’s desire to be just like his big brother.
Looking after a child is quite different from what Gilbert is used to, but he has no objections to it at all. He finds something deeply satisfying about having someone who truly needs him, someone to be responsible for. He can't explain why something that runs so counter to his warrior nature makes him feel so happy.
He notices that Ludwig has relaxed in his arms, finally returning the hug, but it seems odd for him to relax so suddenly. "Are you okay, West?"
Ludwig looks up somewhat languidly, his eyes looking a bit glazed over. "Mm-hmm... I'm fine... I'm just a little sleepy, but it's nothing. I'll be okay."
It is never just "nothing." Gilbert lays the back of his hand on Ludwig's forehead to find it slightly warm. "Wrong answer. Your fever's up again. And normally, when your fever comes back, so do your body aches. I'm right, aren't I?"
Caught in the act, Ludwig sighs, disappointed at being found out. "Mm-hmm... it doesn't hurt too much, though." The tears shining in his eyes betray him.
"What did I just tell you? Don't try to strain yourself if you can get well first! You should be in bed!" Gilbert has had to chastise his strange little brother about this facade thousands of times. "You came here because it hurts and you wanted me nearby to make it hurt less, didn't you?" The poor, sick boy nods. "Why didn't you just say so? There's nothing wrong with being in pain. You're just a kid. You don't have to shrug it off just yet. We just went over this,” the Prussian continues, gently stroking the back of his brother’s head and trying to soothe him. “Someday, you'll grow up to be big and strong, and by then you'll be ready to handle these kinds of things. But for now, just take it easy, okay?"
Gilbert knows that his brother is just going to repeat this episode, and he'll have to repeat the lecture as well, but he doesn't really mind. He can be happy off the battlefield, too. He loves his little brother with every drop of affection in his heart, and he knows for sure that, with his help, the boy is destined for greatness. He holds his dear little brother close, as if to keep him as safe as possible, even though there’s no lurking threat but Ludwig’s illness.
Elsewhere, Ludwig walks in on an entirely different scene. “Gilbert? What are you doing to that pillow?” Gilbert picks up his head to look at him, but other than that he receives no response. “Why are you holding it and talking to it like it’s your child?” He can’t hide the confusion in his voice.
Gilbert rolls his eyes, absentmindedly tousling the hair of the little boy in front of him despite the latter’s objections. Again with people mistaking Ludwig for his son! Too many people have been surprised by his apparent “paternal instincts” to count. As usual, he has to set those mistaken people straight. “He’s not my kid, he’s my little brother,” he says to the baffled retainer that just bumbled into the room. "I know everyone sees how I am with him, but why do you people think he's my kid? I-"
Ludwig lunges forward and shakes Gilbert out of his world, eyes wide with shock. "I'm your little brother, and I'm right here!"
On reflex, Gilbert hits Ludwig's hands off his shoulder, like an animal striking out in self-defense. He blinks, shakes his head, looks around, and then stares through Ludwig for a moment, still holding that pillow. "What... about my..." he mumbles, as if he's still waking up. Another set of bewildered blinks later, he comes back to reality and replies to Ludwig with a wide, nervous grin. "Of course you're my little brother! What the hell are you going on about, West?" He has a feeling that he has been asking that question a lot lately.
"You seemed to think I was the pillow," Ludwig grunts, unable to hide the baffled irritation in his voice. "Do you have any idea how creepy that looked?" Gilbert's shrug says no. "You were talking to an inanimate object like it was a living person. Worse yet, you were talking to an inanimate object like it was me. That's something 'crazy' people do, Gilbert."
The connection of the word "crazy" to Gilbert stings him deeply. "Um... yeah. That is crazy talk," he murmurs, awkwardly discarding the pillow onto the floor, then putting it back on the couch when met with Ludwig's glare. "I was just... thinking, you know? About old times, I mean. When you were a kid and I took care of you." He scans the floor, avoiding eye contact with his brother. "You used to be so cute," he adds with a quiet chuckle.
Ludwig gives his brother a funny look, but tries not to let the strange episode get to him. "Well... Just don't do that again, okay? It's disturbing."
"Gotcha," Gilbert replies, adding a mock salute for effect and still smiling away to hide the fact that he's just as confused as Ludwig is. He never talked to a pillow. He was talking to his little brother.
The strange episode gets to Ludwig anyway, even as he tries to force a tiny smile on his way back to the kitchen. He isn't one to get creeped out easily, but something about the way Gilbert was talking to that pillow unsettles him. It's not that he has a problem with what was said. He remembers those kinds of conversations with his older brother fondly, and he'll never deny that Gilbert was quite responsible around him, almost like a father figure.
Ludwig quickly shakes that last notion out of his head, since that kind of comparison is another can of worms entirely. His brother was, and still is, simply his brother, and a good one at that.
No, what really bothers Ludwig was how wrapped up Gilbert was in that fantasy, how happy he seemed to be with the little brother that Ludwig used to be. He knows that Gilbert isn't always happy with his present situation, and that dissatisfaction sometimes spreads into how he treats him. However, he seems to love the past so much more than his present, even to the point of rejecting his brother's current incarnation for the one in his memories. A fixation like that can only be dangerous.
This incident is yet another one in a string of episodes of odd behaviors that Ludwig has noticed. Never before has he seen Gilbert so prone to fantasies and reminiscence, spacing out at random times and constantly talking about history. It's especially bad when he's in the basement. It seems that he's staring off into space or talking to himself every single time Ludwig goes downstairs, like a bizarre coping mechanism he needs to keep himself sane in there.
Ludwig feels the worry course through his body and tense him up. He has someone he calls whenever his anxiety gets this bad. Maybe that person will have some idea of what to do.