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On the Other Side of the Pillow	By : mykonosparadise Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 4761 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia: Axis Powers nor any characters from the series. I don't make money on the fiction.

Chapter List
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- Chapter 5 -

Ludwig stood with a bare candle in his hand, haunted by doubt.

On entering the bedroom, he concluded that his brother has probably been asleep for a while, but he still wasn't definite about this.

He sneaked in without a hindrance. A full moon lit the night sky. He proceeded slowly but inexorably, then stopped in his tracks.

This was an error. A grave error.

Wasting his precious drops of bromide on such a nonsensical act was a decided flaw. His logic told him outright that he was making a mistake. A yet another lapse from grace, another failure in moral conduct.

There was a sudden chill in the air.

A flicker of anxiety washed over Ludwig's face. He hung his head, wavering, eyes followed the white of his delicately wrought nightgown that fell down to his knees. Fine Egyptian cotton, simple but elegant design, trimmed with beautiful lace. Fingers fidgeted with the smooth muslin of his banded cuff while he stood there, unsure whether to give in to his lingering intention. He came to seek solace, but it was his contention that his plan was bound to fail.

He should have stayed in bed.

No, not in his bed. Anywhere but his bed. That was where he wanted to run from, to leave the place where he was confined by misery. Why did he allow himself to be swayed?

To quell his fear, he thought of his dire circumstances. In the depths of his deep and growing despair, he couldn't stand another night without Gilbert, another night of disordered sleep, another night tinged with sadness. It was a torture to his hungry heart. The long wait has driven him to distraction. Still, he felt a profound regret for having wasted almost all of his sedative.

Despite the obstacle that hindered him, he made an ingenious solution and took a grudging step forward.

His mind bellowed at his body, but it was despair that goaded him on. After a stagnant month, he was driven to agony.

A flicker of the candle lighted his brother's sleeping figure, his face, serene and still.

His spirits rallied after this first success.

Ludwig felt his breath come quicker. Between the devil and the deep blue sea, faced with two equally undesirable choices, he would always choose this. Want was winning him over, the scene lured him on. His sense of right had a nasty tumble—the sight was so crushing that he forgot about his dignity. Need blurred the line between right and wrong, trumped every trace of scruples. His conscience was a poor guide in this matter.

In the final upshot, he made a brisk walk toward the sleeping nation. When he climbed into the bed, he felt wretched. This is how he spent the first bloom of his youth—returning to the roots of his discontent and sorrow. This is what he was doing to save himself from another solitary night in his room. He crept over the pale lavender silky satin of the covers and knelt beside the Prussian. A couple of dexterous moves and Gilbert was divested of his shirt. At last, he could let his hands wander across his chest again, after a whole eternity.

It was little consolation for Ludwig. It did nothing to impede his misery.

On his knees still, he leaned in, kissing lightly across Gilbert's forehead. The gesture derived only pain, no pleasure.

Another kiss, another try to nurse his despair. A tender one on his eyelid, on the sharp nose he loved, on his hard jaw. He cupped Gilbert's cheek in his palm, thumb caressing his skin, shaved and soft.

He treasured the moment, admiring his brother beyond measure. It was a stinging bliss to have him in his arms again.

He continued, watchful for signs of awakening. The tip of his index finger he put lightly over his bottom lip, tracing out the velvety skin in a touch that sent him into an ecstatic joy for a brief moment.

Blue eyes slid close as he grazed Gilbert's lips again, with his own now, before he took it between his teeth and sucked gently. A soft bite followed. He divined how good it was to do this again. If only Gilbert would tilt his head up to kiss back.

He licked along the sweet lips, covering them with small nips that piqued his desire. To prevent his body from yielding to the temptation, he thought of his secret wooden box that he has left in his bedroom. A quarter bottle of bromide which he added into Gilbert's tea tonight wasn't enough for prolonged interaction.

He dragged the collar down to expose his neck which he showered with more kisses, a whiff of scented soap danced in his nostrils as he advanced lower with a hum. Fingertips ran up and down both of his arms, across his collarbone and over her shoulders. Lips were on his forehead now, a sweet short kiss on his lips again, hands wandering freely, touching him, feeling him. A kiss on his shoulder, then back up on his pale cheek, while quick fingers took a lively interest in skimming over his ribs, his taut muscles.

His heart was hammering. He listened closely, worshiping Gilbert's every breath.

His brother was there, but he was thousands of miles away from him.

Ludwig's last anchor was loosening its hold. He couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that all this was pointless, that his first flush of youth was wasted in these agonizing circumstances.

This wasn't love. It was self-humiliation, blind devotion, and submission to the worst in him. Tears and hiding, tears and suffering.

He has fallen into such a subjection to his brother. Was he the only one to know the feel of being in the hands of someone who wasn't even aware of it?

At last finding it impossible to continue his vain attempts, he fell to the side, body lined up against Gilbert. With a sigh of exhausted anguish he wound an arm around his brother, fingers reached to the back of his neck. He threaded them through the thick, platinum-blond locks, brushing his ear lightly. His depression was not alleviated by that, he only felt oppressive sadness. The very touch grieved him—deep-seated bitterness stirred within him.

It was plain—his romantic ideals were impossible to preserve. His lofty hopes were inherently unrealistic. Whatever he might wish, it was impossible to have the one he loved, despite all his untiring efforts.

He held Gilbert's shirt in a tight clench, fingers twisted the cloth painfully in the same manned Gilbert has wrung his poor heart.

He clung onto him until he wearied himself with it and all thoughts neglected him.

Dark clouds were passing on the sky. A myriad of stars was still visible.

He lost track of time. Hour after hour he would lie beside the older nation, giving a deep sigh ever so often. His mood swung between elation and gloom.

The young German was tired, but he retained an indomitable spirit and willed himself to stay awake with grim determination.

Daybreak drew nigh.

At the height of his hopelessness, the clock struck five and the morning chimes aroused him. While the metal clock-hands slowly crept onto six o'clock, he rose from the bed and buttoned Gilbert's shirt up. He was enervated and fatigued by the long ordeal, and his body was not very keen on the idea of standing up.

As he sat up, his legs dangled over the side of the bed, barely touching the ground. The candles were wasted. Dawn was stealing over the mountaintops steadily.

Ludwig watched the sweep of the horizon through the large window, a sparkling sunrise dazzled him, announcing a fine morning.

Slinking away now sounded reasonable.

He continued to sit there, contemplating about possible egress, but did nothing.

His conscience slipped back to those remorseful thoughts. He became obsessed with ideas of moral obligation, of guilt and innocence, going all the way back to his first encounter, to the night when everything has started. He was committing a vile crime that has arisen out of entirely selfish motives.

He still smarted when he remembered how he lost his innocence. Mistakes glared from every corner. His mind succumbed to such twist of paths, he thought he was close to losing his mind.

He had to comfort his conscience. His lips parted, he took a breath before falling in an earnest plea.

"Dear God, I beg You to hear my words." Ludwig started with a low murmur. His soul would perish in the eternal torment of hell, deprived of joys of heaven, and he still had the modesty to pray.

"Instruct me, I need guidance. I do not ask for much." He whispered aloud, groping for inspiration and hope. "Let me see him happy. Let him feel nothing but love and devotion for me. My heart I have lost, for I gave it to Gilbert long ago. But all I have left I give to You if You will make it so." A gush of sorrow swept through his chest after the prayer. A lonely glistening drop rolled down his cheek.

His head was throbbing.

While he begged inwardly for Gilbert to never tempt him again, more tears welled up in his eyes.

What joy the Lord has denied him.

In these past few months, he has shed more tears than he was comfortable to admit.

The worst happened then. A little devil, a faint flush of hope, rose from the depth of his heart that was enraptured in its own dream. Some remote and distant hope remained there that Gilbert might someday perhaps find him attractive too.

Fatigued with false hopes, he tried to fend it off. It was a direct affront to his fortitude and determination not to come here anymore. Feeling his emotions clash, Ludwig was torn—he knew his dark secret would stand in the way of his future with Prussia. What is more, his love for Gilbert only grew, and his problems didn't show any signs of disappearing.

If his conscience was strong enough to put manacles on him remained to be seen.

The dawn slowly restored his good reason. His heart was mute.

He sat for a little time on the side of the bed until he heard a rustle beside him, and dried his moist eyes.

Amidst the silence, Gilbert gave a sleepy moan. As he opened his eyes, tenderly upon him was the face of his brother.

Blue eyes wandered timidly over the Prussian whom he deemed to be surprised at his company. Gilbert watched him with something faintly like wonder, but soon returned to his usual poise.

"Since when have you been here?" He couldn't resist the impulse to ask, curious to know what had led Ludwig to his bedroom, a touch of surprise in his voice.

He was met with a sober face.

"I came to wake you." Ludwig answered the question he had braced himself for. Gilbert would never know how ashamed he was to tell him the truth. "I have been invited to attend a royal reception and I came to inform you before I left." He finished his lucid explanation. "May I enlist your help in this?"

Gilbert squinted at the elaborate grandfather clock that showed half past five.

"Is anyone even stirring at this early hour?"

Ludwig didn't recognize suspicion in his voice. Gilbert was naïve and clueless to a fault.

"I didn't mean to usurp your rest." The younger German said, knowing that his brother had a cordial dislike for being woken up.

"I will be most willing to offer my help after another two hours of sleep."

"That will do handsomely." Ludwig replied and let the matter rest. Gilbert stretched himself with a groan and a winning smile on his lips, too blinded by Ludwig's presence to understand his enigmatic behavior.

The smile didn't extend to Ludwig, it only reopened his wounds. It charged him to smile in return, but he offered only a watery smile in lieu. His expression quickly melted into one of a wan look. He looked away with downcast eyes.

That little smile now sadly gone, Gilbert watched him. Vacant blue eyes stared at the parquet; he looked so pale and tired. What was hiding behind that despondent aura? Gilbert has never seen misery of this kind on someone's face before. He gave himself to puzzling out the source of Ludwig's great unhappiness, but he didn't question him—he felt he would humiliate him with his curiosity.

Ludwig felt Gilbert's steady gaze on himself and thought about taking his departure.

"I had better take my leave now."

"You are under no compulsion to leave." Returned the albino, smiling, a mischievous light in his eye. "Bide here for a while and lie down with me." He ventured a suggestion without a hidden agenda behind his words.

Ludwig's stomach knotted up.

Gilbert was watching him with expectant eyes, but he was hesitant to embrace the opportunity. The only drawback was physical closeness. The same closeness he craved.

His brother made a dim suggestion that he might touch him; he didn't flinch. Gilbert didn't seem deterred by his lack of interest.

Ludwig's attention was diverted by a dogged grip on his wrist. His reluctance was spoiled once Gilbert pulled him in—he was in much need of his hushing voice and gentle touch. With a scarlet face, he lay down, attentive to his and Gilbert's body position. The Prussian has squeezed him in a tight grip, arm round his waist, cheek on his neck. Gilbert's strong thighs were firmly up against his, groin pressed against his ass. A sudden impulse of lust seized the blond. His shaft hardened in an involuntary reflex, enthusiastic about the fact that Gilbert was lying in the same bed with him.

'No, no, no!' A voice screamed in his head, he knew too well what his body was interested in. Beneath his fingers he meshed a scallop of cream broderie anglaise embroidery on the pillowcase, desperately trying to separate his inner voice from Gilbert's.

It was in an instant, after a tiny little gesture which made a sudden bolt in his mind that new sensations started seeping into his consciousness—he felt Gilbert's index finger stroke the soft skin of his inner wrist and a nuzzle against his hair.

For the first time in a while, Ludwig let his body go slack and melted into the brotherly tenderness. His eyes refused to remain open.

How much he wished to lay his cards on the table and confess everything.

"Brother?" The blond dropped his voice to a whisper. "Do sinners go to hell?" He asked with a twinge of guilt.

A sigh, deep but dull, was given in response, as if Gilbert was earnestly contemplating what to say.

"That place men call hell is not tangible, not touchable. It has no limits." He stipulated, "Hell or heaven are within. We create either hell or heaven around us." The Prussian gave a thoughtful nod at his own words, his nose nuzzled against the blond hair where he now nestled his face.

Ludwig pondered. Where did such a humanistic streak in Gilbert's belief stem from? Hell hath no limits, it sounded so familiar.

Where only did he hear those words before?

"Have I read that somewhere?"

"Doctor Faustus."

Ah.

"Do I create the hell, brother?"

A smile stretched across Gilbert's lips as he pressed a kiss against the crown of his head.

"No. You are my heaven. You are a model of virtue." Said the older nation, stressing his affirmation and affection with another kiss.

If he only knew…

'You are my heaven too.' Ludwig wished to say, but the words refused to come out.

Gilbert was both. He was his heaven and hell.

The gentle pressure on his hand bribed him into a sweet state of slumbering.

To Be Continued…

A/N: The next chapter is our great finale - it'll be exciting. Stay tuned, guys!
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On the Other Side of the Pillow