Dein Hand, in Meine

Chapter 12

Leaving a heart behind.

Days drew on, as I grew closer to the Italian.

Everyday it seemed like a new side of the male was being shown.

Not only was he an advanced artist, but he was a great cook as well.

During dinner, Feliciano and Lovino would stand side by side, handing each other various ingredients and exchanging smiles and nods of approval.

Sometimes though, Lovino would raise and eyebrow as Feliciano would hand him a insensible ingredient, such as chocolate or an entire bag of flour, and give out a small giggle as his brother rolled his eyes.

Though at times, I swear I could catch him smiling.

Sometimes I was asked to help out, and I was all too glad.

Every day made me realize that living with the cheery Italian and his grumpy brother had filled an empty space.

Before, I had missed Vater and Bruder almost everyday, contemplating writing them letters but feeling it was safer to just let it be.

But now it was almost as if I belonged, like a family, but to two people who were completely unrelated to me.

Especially Feliciano; I had grown the closest to him.

So close that every night, I would share a bed with him and smile at the soft breathing that he emitted, that and the way his thin, but smooth arms wrapped around my torso as we drifted off into slumber.

At first the act had been strange to me.

Sleeping next to another man was just something that no one did.

It was frowned down upon, and if you were caught you would be killed; or sent away.

But the warmth it brought to me, the security I thought I would never need, was all brought by the sweet Italian's embrace.

I ran my fingers through soft, auburn locks, tracing the outline of his face with my index finger.

I was surprised at even my own actions, how affectionate I could be.

I had never let such a side show to anyone so quickly, let alone in general.

Not even Bruder got this much of my attention.

I knew this was most likely bad news, that the entirety of the situation was a poor idea.

But I could not help myself.

He led me in, from the start.

Like an angel of temptation he had swooped in, two loving amber eyes, a pair of soft lips always fitted into a smile, and a heart that never seemed to stop working or to take a break; he captured me.

The curl to the left of his head, like a halo and his simple manner sometimes made me believe that he was truly an angel, and God sent him to keep me sane in my mission.

Keep me human.

I watched as the small man stirred, an auburn head turned to reveal a smiling face, an open eye and a closed one.

"Buongiorno bello..." (Good morning handsome)

He whispered, his eyes searching for me.

The thing was though; I was not next to him.

I was in the bathroom in the next room, washing the sleep out of my eyes, and a stiff frown stuck to my lips.

"L-Ludwig?"

He whispered in his groggy state, his body beginning to wake up.

"LUDDY?"

I could hear the man's panicked call from my place at the sink and immediately turned the faucet off, pushing the door open and entering the male's room.

We immediately embraced, his eyes dotted with tears and his expression heartbreaking.

I cursed under my breath, allowing him to burry his face into my chest, his cries furthering my guilt.

I did not mean to make him feel such a way, no, not to make him cry.

I just did not want to have to witness leaving him behind, because today; I was going back to war.

How selfish of me.

I could feel my own emotions gathering in my chest.

For some reason, I knew this would not be the least bit easy.

I would miss the Italian, and surely I knew I probably could not survive without him.

That was my mistake; becoming dependent on him.

Not only did I get used to his cooking, his surprisingly good-hearted older brother, but I adjusted to his affection and what I was sure might have been...love and in return, I had loved him back.

I was in love with him.

Even if he was a man.

I was in love.

Flashbacks of Gilbert ran through my mind, his mocking tone, the way he picked on me for it; but it had happened.

He always told me that I may not ever find a lover, a woman to spend the rest of my life with.

He teased me nearly everyday, bragging about the young lady who had hit him in the back of the head with her saucepan, after he tried to make a move on her. But had accepted his kiss afterward anyway.

But he made sure to remind me how awkward I was and how inexperienced.

How I would never fall in love with a woman...and funny enough; he was right.

I fell for a man.

A man who could cook like he was trained by heavenly chefs, with eyes more delicate than any flower I've laid my own eyes upon.

With a heart of gold.

He was a luxury that the Nazis could not even hope to have.

I planned on keeping it that way.

I felt a tug at my hand, one most eager and forceful.

I looked down to see worrisome eyes.

"Please Ludwig, let me take you somewhere before you go."

The words did not have much time to be processed as I was dragged through the bedroom door, and soon enough the front door, out onto the Florence streets.

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We stood under Vasari's fresco, held inside the dome of the Florence Cathedral.

Wide eyes, I gazed up, the Italian's hand tightly gripping mine.

I smiled softly, the cathedral's gothic interior surrounding us.

"Breathtaking."

I said, my mouth slightly agape in awe.

It was very rare for me to see such pieces, even Feliciano's wall was a masterpiece.

I diverted my eyes from the fresco and looked at the shorter male beside me.

He was crying, but a sad smile was still held on his lips.

My expression turned soft, a tear rolling down my own cheek.

I gently placed my arm around his waist, capturing his small form.

Chest to chest we stood, Feliciano's expression filled with confusion.

But his eyes slowly closed as our lips met, and as we held each other under the dome, the empty church echoing with nothing but sorrow and the love that flooded our veins.

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