Lovino stormed into the kitchen, slammed the bag of flour down on the bench, and spun around to stare fiercely at Feliciano. Feliciano squeaked, took a step back and clutched the tomatoes to his chest. Lovino could look so scary when he wanted to.

"What is that irritating tune you've been humming all afternoon?" asked Lovino irritably.

Feliciano scratched his head. "Huh? Oh." He'd barely even realised he had been softly singing 'Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart' since they left the tavern. He shrugged. "It's not irritating, it's pretty." He immediately started humming it again as he placed the tomatoes in the large but pitifully empty fruit bowl.

"It's stupid. Stop it. Stop it now."

"But Lovino..." Feliciano whined.

"You need to take things a little more seriously, Feliciano," said Lovino, his tone both condescending and frustrated. "You can't just spend important meetings like that sitting and singing along to the radio. This isn't a game. You need to be serious, like me and Grandpa." Lovino immediately jumped when Grandpa Roma walked into the room behind him and clapped him on the shoulder.

"What's all this I hear about being serious?" asked Roma, grinning cheerfully as he placed the small bag of oranges on the bench. "Don't listen to your brother, Feliciano, he's far too serious for his own good. And you have a beautiful voice just like your Grandpa!" Lovino opened his mouth indignantly but Roma just raised a hand and said, "Try this one..." before bursting into a loud, roaring rendition of Verdi's 'La Donna è Mobile', his favourite canzone. Feliciano laughed loudly, clapped in delight and joined in while Lovino placed his hands over his ears and grimaced as though in pain.

"La donna è mobile,
Qual piuma al vento,
Muta d'accento - e di pensiero."

"Grandpa, don't be ridiculous!" Lovino backed away from them, looking indignant. "I meant it!"

Feliciano giggled and he and Roma just sang louder while slowly advancing on Lovino.

"Sempre un amabile,
Leggiadro viso,
In pianto o in riso, - è menzognero."

"STOP!" cried Lovino. As he continued to sing, Roma took a cooking pot from the bench and placed it on Lovino's head. He closed in on one side of Lovino as Feliciano closed in on the other, and they both sang as loudly as they could while Lovino seemed to be fuming with anger and trying not to laugh at the same time. "Go away! Stop it! Leave me alone! You're both crazy and I'm leaving this family!"

Feliciano and Roma, still singing, chased Lovino as he ran out of the kitchen into the front living room, where he immediately stopped short and fell silent. Feliciano looked over to find Antonio, their Spanish accomplice and informant, standing in the front doorway and smiling at Lovino in an amused way. Lovino turned bright red, tore the pot from his head, and scowled at the Spaniard. "What are you looking at, bastard?"

"Antonio!" cried Roma in delight, crossing the room and pulling the dark haired man into a warm embrace. "Ah, thank the good Lord! I was hoping to see you soon!"

"Greetings, Roma! It's good to see you!" Antonio looked slightly tired and a little unwashed, but his smile was as wide and genuine as ever. Feliciano liked Antonio. He was cheerful and friendly and always brought him something whenever he visited, which was more and more often these days.

"Antonio! Did you bring me a present? Huh, huh, did you?" asked Feliciano eagerly, rushing over to Antonio and jumping around him excitedly. Antonio laughed and ruffled Feliciano's hair. Lovino just folded his arms and scowled from the kitchen doorway.

"Of course I did, Feli! This time I have..." Antonio paused dramatically before reaching into the large bag slung over his shoulder. Feliciano waited impatiently before Antonio finally pulled out a soccer ball. Feliciano gasped and grabbed the ball from Antonio's hands.

"Yes! Perfect! I lost my last one, actually Lovino lost it, and it's been impossible to find a new one and I've actually been wanting one of these lately because..." Feliciano felt a sharp pain in his skull as Roma slapped him over the back of the head. "I mean, uh, thank you, Antonio!"

"You're welcome, Feliciano. And I have something special for Lovino!" Lovino stayed where he was, glaring from across the room.

"Lovino, my dear boy!" said Roma. "Stop being a rude little bastard and get over here."

Lovino reluctantly made his way across the room, his arms still folded and his face twisted in a sour expression. Antonio reached back into his bag, pulled out a small red object then tossed it in the air, caught it, and held it out to Lovino with a flourish. Lovino just glared at it.

"A fucking tomato?"

Roma cuffed him over the back of the head. "Watch your manners, young man."

Lovino rubbed his head and glared at Roma. "Why would I want a stupid tomato, Feliciano bought a bag of them today."

"Don't be impolite, and take the tomato."

"I don't want the tomato!"

"Take the fucking tomato, Lovino!"

Lovino snarled, snatched the red fruit from Antonio's hand, then immediately wrinkled his brow in confusion. His eyes flashed quizzically at Antonio, who simply winked.

"Antonio, a thousand apologies," said Roma, spreading his hands. "I love my grandsons to death but they can be such rude little shits."

Antonio laughed and clapped Roma on the back. "Please, Roma, there is nothing to apologise for. It is I who should be apologising for the delay in my arrival. The travel routes have become so difficult in the last few months."

Roma waved a hand dismissively. "Of course, of course, I understand this. I expect you have information for me?" Antonio nodded and pulled a pile of documents from his bag. Roma led him to the large central table where Antonio sat and spread the documents. They immediately began rifling through them and talking urgently. Once again Feliciano found himself bored and he fell into a couch beside the staircase, tossing the soccer ball from hand to hand. A few moments later, Lovino sat heavily beside him. Feliciano leant over to take the tomato from his hands, but Lovino was too quick and snatched it out of Feliciano's way.

"Lovino!" whined Feliciano. "Let me see, what is it? It's not actually a tomato, is it?"

"No," murmured Lovino, staring at the red fruit in his hand. "It's hard, like it's made of glass or something." He shook it and it rattled slightly. "I think you can open it, but I can't work out how."

"Oooh," said Feliciano, fascinated. "Why did Antonio give you something terrific like that?"

"Terrific? I don't even know what it is!" Lovino held the tomato shaped object to his ear and shook it again. He scowled angrily. "Stupid Spaniard. This is going to drive me crazy."

Feliciano shrugged and again focused on the soccer ball, occasionally looking over to where Roma sat with Antonio, speaking intensely. He wondered what actions this information would lead to this time, and how it would involve everyone around him. A few phrases caught his half-hearted attention, such as "planning a landing" and "German planes stationed nearby" and "need to gather more information on this," but most of it went over his head. Feliciano just prayed that whatever came of it would not hurt Grandpa, or Lovino, or Antonio. Or Ludwig. He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them, he noticed Antonio looking over and winking at Lovino. Lovino rolled his eyes, maintained his scowl, and looked away, even as the tiniest curve played at the corner of his lips. Feliciano tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as he watched. What was that about then?

Only a few minutes later, it seemed the business was already done. It had been fairly short this time, and Feliciano hoped that was a good sign. Roma and Antonio traded documents and when they stood Feliciano and Lovino went over to join them. Antonio gathered up his bag and thrust the papers into it messily. "I will be in town for a few weeks, Roma, so I will keep you informed."

"Yes, yes. Please come around whenever you are free. Our home is your home, my friend."

"Of course I will!" Antonio smiled before pulling Feliciano into a hug. "Stay safe, Feli."

"Visit soon, Antonio!"

Antonio nodded and when he turned, Lovino took a step back. Antonio just laughed, leant forward, and whispered something into Lovino's ear which made Lovino's eyes go wide and his face turn bright red. When Antonio pulled back he was looking at Lovino with a mixture of amusement, delight, and something Feliciano could not quite put his finger on. Roma quickly gripped Antonio's arm and steered him insistently toward the front door before kissing his cheeks a little forcefully in farewell. "Until next time! Oh, and Antonio, tell me. Can you sing?"

"Sing? Why?" asked Antonio, his cheerful smile back in place.

"Because if you look at my grandson like that again, I will castrate you."

Lovino's eyes widened further and his mouth fell open. "Grandpa!" he cried, sounding mortified.

Antonio's face went blank before Roma began laughing raucously. Antonio sighed in relief and joined in.

"No, no," laughed Roma as he clapped Antonio on the shoulder, "But Antonio, really..." Roma cut off laughing and glared. "I'm deadly serious."

Antonio's smile faltered and he backed up insistently. "We'll... uh. We'll speak soon, Roma."

"We will!" Roma gave Antonio a cheerful smile and a happy wave. But when Antonio's eyes flicked over to Lovino, Roma made a distinct slicing motion below the waist. The Spaniard hurried out and Roma clapped his hands, spun around and grinned at his grandsons. Lovino still stared wide eyed and open mouthed. "So," said Roma merrily. "Who wants pasta for dinner?"

"Ooh, ooh!" cried Feliciano, running back to the kitchen.

"I'm leaving this family," muttered Lovino again as he dragged himself behind.

.

Feliciano walked slowly through the field to the oak tree, unsure whether Ludwig would be waiting there. He had said he would, and Feliciano hoped desperately that he would, but Feliciano knew that he could not be sure. He felt strangely like he knew Ludwig completely, like he'd known him forever, but he had to remind himself that they had only spoken twice and it was quite possible that Ludwig barely had a thought to spare for him. After all, the last two times he had met Ludwig had been purely by chance. Could Feliciano be sure that Ludwig would turn up when actually asked? He clutched his basket tightly in his hands, hoping he would not simply be walking past the oak tree and heading towards the market alone as he did every day. But even as he tried to prepare himself for the worst, he drew closer to the tree and realised with a rush of joy that he could see someone standing underneath it. Feliciano's heart jumped in his chest and he ran the rest of the way.

"Buon pomeriggio, Ludwig!" he cried, breathless, his voice wild and joyful.

Ludwig nodded, his hands held behind his back, standing straight and alert in his immaculate grey uniform. He didn't smile, but his eyes were bright. "Guten Tag, Feliciano."

"Guten Tag," repeated Feliciano. "Good day?"

Ludwig nodded again. "Sehr gut."

Feliciano wrinkled his brow. "I don't know that one."

Ludwig's mouth twitched upwards slightly. "It means, 'very good'."

Feliciano's stomach filled with warmth. "Grazie!"

"You're welcome."

"No, no," said Feliciano, shaking his head, "You say 'prego.'" Ludwig just nodded. "Say it, Ludwig!"

"Oh, uh..."

"Say it!"

"Prego!" Ludwig shouted as though he was answering an order, then looked immediately taken aback.

"Sehr gut! Isn't this fun?" Feliciano reached into his basket and pulled out the soccer ball that Antonio had given him. "My friend gave me a soccer ball. Do you want to play?" He dropped the basket to the ground and advanced towards Ludwig slowly. Once again Ludwig looked a little thrown.

"I'm sorry? You wish to play soccer? I thought you wanted a language lesson."

Feliciano smiled and shrugged a little. "Giochiamo a calcio." Ludwig seemed a little awkward around him. But soccer... well, Ludwig played soccer. He liked soccer. Maybe he would feel more comfortable if he was kicking a ball. Feliciano thought it one of his more brilliant ideas and kept smiling as he tossed the ball from hand to hand. "Show me how good you are."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow skeptically. "I do not think you could keep up with me."

Feliciano smirked slightly. "We'll see." He quickly dropped the ball to his foot and kicked it with all his strength. Ludwig only just managed to catch it as it flew against his chest, then stumbled backwards a step before steadying himself and coughing. He looked up at Feliciano, his expression surprised and impressed. Feliciano waited apprehensively. Ludwig opened his mouth as though to respond, stopped, then looked down at the ball. Feliciano could almost see him thinking. After a few moments Ludwig dropped the ball. He carefully removed his jacket, folded it, and placed it on the ground.

"Very well then. Lass uns Fußball spielen." Ludwig kicked the ball back.

.

So far, Feliciano was not very impressed. He dropped the ball to his knee, then to his ankle, and finally flipped it into the air before kicking it steadily at Ludwig, who was attempting to defend the oak tree which served as their goal. It sailed above his head and slammed into the tree. Feliciano threw his arms in the air and shouted, "Another goal to the Italian! That's six goals to me, Ludwig, I'm winning. Did you really nearly play soccer for Germany?"

Ludwig scowled and kicked the ball forcefully back to him. "I did. But not as a goal keeper."

"Why did you stop playing?" asked Feliciano as he ran forward and caught the ball. "What happened?"

Ludwig paused and ran a hand through the hair that kept falling in his eyes. Feliciano's heart beat a little faster at the gesture. It was somehow endearing. "War happened. And I joined the Luftwaffe."

"Luftwaffe is 'Air Force'," said Feliciano proudly. He was quite certain he would be speaking fluent German in no time. Ludwig nodded and almost smiled.

"Sehr gut."

"What do you like best? Soccer or flying?" Feliciano slowly began to back away, tossing the ball in the air and catching it as he went. Ludwig paused again. He always seemed to think about his answers before he gave them, Feliciano noticed. It was a smart strategy.

"They are very different."

"But you chose flying over soccer," said Feliciano inquiringly. Ludwig shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"I chose my country over soccer."

"Ludwig, wouldn't it be wonderful if instead of all this fighting we could just play soccer? Imagine, Germany and Italy and England could all have a soccer team instead of an army, and we could just play games to find out who wins, and then you wouldn't have to go off and shoot people. Ludwig, why can't we do that?" Ludwig looked startled and amused and almost sad all at once. Feliciano lined up the ball once again. "Although if you were in Germany's team I don't think they would win." He kicked the ball.

"Oh, is that right," said Ludwig. To Feliciano's surprise, this time Ludwig managed to catch the ball. He then immediately marched up to Feliciano and glared down at him. Feliciano's eyes widened and he took an unconscious step backwards. "Go stand in front of the tree." Feliciano was sure Ludwig didn't mean to be scary, but it was certainly easy to see how he had become an officer. Refusing him just didn't seem to be an option.

"All righ... ah... yes, sir." Feliciano raced over to the tree and turned back to see Ludwig throw the ball in the air and catch it on his finger, spin it, then run it across his shoulders before catching it in his other hand. Feliciano stared astounded.

"You think yourself a better goal keeper?"

"I'm sorry?" Feliciano tilted his head to the side as he continued staring, stunned. Now Ludwig was spinning the ball on his knee. How was he doing that?

"Let us see if you can stop a goal from me, Italian!" Ludwig juggled the ball between his knees, flipped it into the air, then kicked it so hard that it went flying past Feliciano's ear and smashed into the tree. Feliciano was fairly sure his heart actually stopped in his chest. Ludwig smirked. "What was that phrase you used earlier? Oh yes... another goal to the German!"

Feliciano still hadn't managed to move. "Please don't kill me."

"Come on, Feliciano," said Ludwig as he retrieved the ball and kicked it back to his starting position. "You were so confident earlier!"

"That was before you nearly took off my head!" As Ludwig lined up another kick at the tree, Feliciano threw his hands up over his head. "Dio mi salvi!" he cried as once again Ludwig sent the ball flying into the tree.

Five more goals smashed against the oak tree and Feliciano was fairly sure of three things. One - he was the worst goal keeper in Italy. Two - pretty soon there was going to be a hole right through his favourite tree. Three - when Ludwig smiled, he was the most beautiful person in the entire world. "I believe one more and I win, correct?" asked Ludwig, lining up for the seventh goal. Feliciano decided he'd had enough.

"All right, that is it." He raced forward and kicked the ball out from under Ludwig's foot.

Ludwig just blinked and looked at him in surprise. "Hey, that's against the rules!"

Feliciano grinned defiantly. "Sometimes it is fun to break the rules, Ludwig. And besides, you can't win if you can't get the ball!" Feliciano laughed gleefully and took off with the ball, kicking and weaving it away from the tree and into the field. He looked back, half expecting Ludwig to be walking away, but surprised and thrilled to find him actually chasing after him. Heart pumping, head spinning, Feliciano guided the ball into the tall grass and laughed breathlessly when Ludwig overtook him and maneuvered the ball out from under his feet. Ludwig smiled widely, a genuine smile, one of the first Feliciano had seen on Ludwig's lips, and it took Feliciano's breath away. The momentary lapse was enough for Ludwig to drive the ball away and call back to him.

"You'll have to do better than that, Feliciano."

Feliciano grinned and chased after him. Running and laughing, the sun soaked ankle high grass brushing his legs, eventually he caught up with Ludwig and in one wild, unexpected, glorious moment their legs tangled and they both fell to the ground in a breathless, laughing heap. The ball flew forgotten into the grass. Ludwig's laugh was deep, but somehow different from his speaking voice. Feliciano's stomach flipped at the wonderful sound. It was almost like some unrestrained part of Ludwig breaking free. Almost winded, but still laughing, Feliciano rolled over to face Ludwig, only inches away. He certainly looked different now, his hair falling unkempt in his eyes and his shirt slightly rumpled as he lay in the grass. Ludwig's eyes met his and Feliciano gazed back. For a long moment it felt as though time stopped as they lay like that, their laughter softly dying away, until Feliciano could hear nothing but the sound of their breathing. An unfamiliar ache spread through his chest and it took him a moment to realise what this strange craving was - he wanted to reach out and touch Ludwig. He wanted it so much it hurt; he'd never felt anything like it. Just as Feliciano unthinkingly lifted his trembling hand, Ludwig suddenly looked away and gave a soft gasp. "O, verdammt."

"Hmm?" asked Feliciano, taking the moment to drop his hand and try to bring his breathing back under control. Just what was he thinking?

"Oh, it is nothing, just..." An expression of embarrassment crossed Ludwig's face as he drew himself up into a sitting position. "I brought something for you, and..."

"Really?" Feliciano interrupted, his stomach fluttering as he sat up quickly. "What is it? What did you bring me? Is it a present? Will I like it?"

"It is not much, please, do not get excited." Feliciano nearly giggled. Was Ludwig actually blushing? He reached into his pocket, pulled out a rather battered looking wrapped bar and held it out to Feliciano. "And I think I squashed it. But, er, here. I hope you like chocolate."

Feliciano couldn't believe it. He had to stop himself from squealing as he took the bar. "Cioccolato! Oh! I haven't had chocolate since before the war! Where did you get this?"

Ludwig looked down at his hands, his cheeks still red. As big and tall as he was, he still managed to look almost like a little boy. "We had a little sent to us with our ration supplies this week. I don't really like it that much, so I thought..."

"Thank you, Ludwig! Danke, Grazie!" Feliciano immediately tore into the wrapper and took a bite, his eyes closing at the delicious melting taste of the chocolate. One of his favourite foods, it had been simply impossible to get for years now. He tried to savour it slowly. Feliciano had almost forgotten what chocolate tasted like; to taste it again was incredible. "Mmm. Ah, this is amazing. German chocolate is very good, it might even be better than Italian. Do you want some?" Feliciano opened his eyes to see Ludwig staring at him, his face red and his eyes wide. Ludwig coughed and looked away.

"No, thank you."

Feliciano shrugged. "All right. Although, do you mind if I save just a little bit for Lovino, because he really likes chocolate as well, and I think it would make him happy and he is so cranky lately, I think he needs something to make him happy... I think Antonio makes him happy but I don't think he wants to admit it, isn't that strange?" Feliciano took another bite of the chocolate bar as Ludwig took a moment to respond.

"Who is Antonio?"

"He is our friend. He is Spanish. He gave me the soccer ball. And he gave Lovino a glass tomato and then he looked at Lovino all funny and Grandpa Roma threatened to castrate him."

Ludwig's eyes widened at that. "Threatened... to..."

"Castrate him. I'm not quite sure what that means but I think it has something to do with singing soprano. Ludwig, how do you say 'chocolate' in German?"

Ludwig blinked his slightly panicked expression away. "Schokolade."

"Schokolade," Feliciano repeated. "Isn't that funny, it sounds the same... chocolate, cioccolato, schokolade. I never would have guessed you had chocolate in your pocket. I wish I had something to give you, but I don't have anything interesting in my pocket." Feliciano really did wish he had something to offer Ludwig in return. Just to be sure, he dug around in his pocket. He came out with a piece of string and a slightly battered red daisy he had picked earlier. "Here you are Ludwig, you can have this." Feliciano held out the flower and Ludwig took it hesitantly. "In Italian flower is fiore."

"Um," said Ludwig, just staring perplexedly at the flower. "Grazie." Ludwig knitted his eyebrows together, brushed his hair impatiently from his forehead, then looked up at Feliciano with a confused expression. "Why...uh..." He did not seem to know what he wanted to ask. "Why do you want to learn German?"

Actually, Feliciano wasn't sure. He'd never even thought of it before meeting Ludwig. "Because... uh..." Because it was an excuse to see you again... He tried to think of something quickly. "Because... I..." He could not think fast enough. "...wanted to see you again," he finished quietly. Feliciano never was very good at lying.

"May I ask why?" Ludwig's eyes remained fixed firmly on the flower as he twirled it through his fingers.

"I like you." Feliciano also never thought before he spoke.

"But..." Ludwig broke off and paused for a moment, obviously thinking about his next words like he always seemed to do. He shook his head, but a tiny smile played on his lips. "I like you too, Feliciano."

Feliciano broke into a broad smile. He could not remember when he had last felt so dizzyingly happy. Those five words were the best he had ever heard. But then Ludwig sighed and looked up, catching Feliciano's gaze with those too-blue eyes.

"This is probably not a good idea, though."

Feliciano began to ask why, but stopped. He knew why. "No. Probably not. But I don't care."

Ludwig raised his eyebrows but did not look away. "You are unlike any person I have ever met."

"I hear that a lot. Is it... is that a bad thing?"

Ludwig paused then shook his head slowly. "No. Not bad at all." Silence fell between them and Feliciano looked at the ground, still smiling to himself. Ludwig cleared his throat and sat up straighter, adjusting his collar and pulling his shirt down. "I apologise."

"For what?" asked Feliciano in confusion.

"I do not... I mean..." Ludwig breathed deeply and focused on fixing his collar. "I am not used to speaking so openly. And I have not spoken with someone like this before. And please take no offence but I should not have spent the afternoon playing soccer with you, as this is not an acceptable use of..."

"Ludwig, would you like me to sing you a song?"

It took a few seconds for Ludwig to stop speaking, then he fell silent, one of his hands on his collar, the other still clutching the tattered red flower. He looked up slowly into Feliciano's eyes. "You say the strangest things."

Feliciano shrugged. "I hear that a lot too. But you looked like you were getting upset, and when Lovino gets upset, I always sing him a song. Sometimes he gets angry and yells at me but sometimes it makes him feel better even though he never says so. So shall I sing you a song?"

"Yes," said Ludwig, looking immediately surprised at his answer. "I mean, sure. Why not." Ludwig twirled the stem of the flower through his fingers. Feliciano smiled as he watched Ludwig's hands. So large and strong, but they handled the flower so gently. He paused a moment, breathed deeply, and began.

"Tutte le genti che passeranno, (And the people who shall pass)
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella, ciao, ciao, ciao.
Tutte le genti che passeranno,
Mi diranno «Che bel fior!»" (Will tell me - "What a beautiful flower.")

Feliciano fell silent, wondering if singing a revolutionary song to a German was a very good idea. But if Ludwig recognised the song, or the words, he did not show it. He simply gazed intently at Feliciano, his expression unreadable. Feliciano continued.

"E se io muoio da partigiano, (And if I die as a partisan)
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella, ciao, ciao, ciao.
E se io muoio da partigiano,
Tu mi devi seppellir." (Then you must bury me.)

Feliciano faltered again, and wondered if he should stop. But Ludwig looked transfixed and said quietly, "Keep going." Feliciano did.

"E seppellire lassù in montagna, (Bury me up in the mountain)
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella, ciao, ciao, ciao.
E seppellire lassù in montagna,
Sotto l'ombra di un bel fior." (Under the shade of a beautiful flower.)

Feliciano sang the song much slower than he usually heard it; a gentler, quieter version of the familiar tune. The words seemed so different now, when he sang them slowly, softly, instead of shouting them wildly while dancing in a crowded room. Ludwig listened silently as Feliciano sung the last verse so quietly it almost drifted on the breeze.

"È questo il fiore del partigiano, (This is the flower of the partisan)
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella, ciao, ciao, ciao.
È questo il fiore del partigiano,
Morto per la libertà." (Who died for freedom.)

The last of the words died away. Feliciano did not dare to look up at Ludwig. This felt so different to when he sang with Lovino or Grandpa Roma or everyone in the Resistenza. This felt like he was showing a part of his soul to Ludwig. It felt wonderful; it felt terrifying. Only after a very long silence did Ludwig respond softly. "What is that?"

Feliciano swallowed heavily. "It's just a little Italian song."

"What is it about?"

Feliciano bit his lip wondering how to describe it. Oppression... death... freedom... Then he looked back at Ludwig's big hands and what they held. "It's... it's about a flower." Feliciano forced himself to look up at Ludwig and felt immediately transfixed by his gaze. Ludwig stared at him as though he had never seen him before, and as though he had been looking at him forever.

"What is 'bella ciao'?"

"It means 'goodbye, beautiful.'" Feliciano felt released when Ludwig finally looked away. He was almost breathless. Looking up, he saw that the sky was turning pink, the sun hidden behind orange tinted clouds. He was suddenly surprised at how much time had passed. "We have stayed too late," he said, hoping his voice did not sound as shaky as he felt. "I have missed going to the market. Grandpa will be upset."

"I apologise for delaying you." Ludwig let out a deep breath and closed his eyes. He almost seemed to be fighting with himself.

"Please don't. I much preferred being with you here." And it was true. Feliciano could not remember the last time he had felt so filled with happiness, just playing soccer and laughing and singing and watching the slowly darkening sky as the soft, scented breeze drifted past.

A sudden low, muted roar broke the stillness of the afternoon. The familiar sound of distant bombs echoed off the mountains. Everything slowed around them. Only the intermittent distant rumbling of the bombs disturbed the silence. The sun slowly broke free of the clouds, and Ludwig opened his eyes and looked straight into Feliciano's. This time neither of them moved to looked away. It felt like all afternoon their eyes had gravitated towards each other. The cool afternoon breeze gusted gently over them and Feliciano had the feeling that if he didn't move soon, he may just never move again, sitting in this open field and staring into Ludwig's blue eyes. But then Ludwig broke the silence. "I have to go."

Feliciano sighed, disappointed. Of course, he knew Ludwig had to leave at some point. But he realised he didn't want him to... he never wanted him to. "I will see you tomorrow, won't I?"

Ludwig only paused for a second. "Yes, you will."

"Oh, good," breathed Feliciano. Ludwig's eyes still stared into his, and Feliciano's chest felt strangely tight. He felt so happy that he would see Ludwig again tomorrow, but at the same time a sort of unfamiliar ache and longing overwhelmed him. It was confusing. All he wanted was to hold onto Ludwig and not let him leave. He swallowed heavily and forced his lips into a smile. "Auf wiedersehen, sweetheart." He did not even realise he had let the 'sweetheart' slip.

"Bella, ciao." Ludwig stood swiftly, placed the flower in his pocket, and marched off into the afternoon sun, stopping briefly by the oak tree to pick up his jacket. Feliciano just sat frozen, his heart thumping and his mind reeling. Had Ludwig really just called him beautiful?

.

Feliciano lay staring at the ceiling in the darkness, unable to even think about sleeping. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts; wonderful and terrible, beautiful and terrifying. And each and every one about Ludwig. It was so strange to feel like this; a feeling he had never felt before, yet somehow completely familiar. The stillness of the room almost smothered him, broken only by the very faint sound of the wind outside and Lovino's uneven breathing. The bedroom was large, but he could always hear the change in Lovino's breathing when he fell asleep. It was obvious his brother was still lying awake in his bed on the opposite side of the room.

"Lovino?"

"Hmm?"

Feliciano twisted his hands in the sheet. "What do you think of Antonio?"

There came the sound of a sharp intake of breath, quickly hidden by a cough. "Why on earth would you ask me that?"

"Well, don't you... like him?"

Lovino snorted derisively. "Like him? That Spanish bastard? Why the hell would I like him?"

"Well, I like him, and Grandpa does, and I just sort of thought that you did. Maybe. A little more than we do." Feliciano waited in silence for Lovino's answer.

"Well I don't."

"Oh. All right then." Silence fell again. Feliciano lay still, listening to the sound of Lovino's tossing and turning in the bed beside him. He tried to wait long enough for Lovino's anger to calm a little. "Lovino?"

"What?" Lovino snapped, sounding frustrated.

Feliciano knew his brother. He knew when he was lying, when he was exaggerating, and when he was hiding the truth with the opposite, which was exactly what he was doing now. "Have you ever thought of telling Antonio that you... don't like him?" There was no sound but that of Lovino's breathing. "Lovino?"

"Go to sleep, Feliciano." Feliciano nodded to himself, tried to focus on the sound of the wind, and twisted his hands in the sheets as his thoughts continued to chase themselves through his mind. He waited patiently until he thought enough time had passed. "Lovino?"

"For God's sake, Feliciano, what do you want?"

"You do like Antonio, and you do want to tell him, but you are worried about what might happen when you do. Not that I really blame you, because Grandpa Roma did threaten to castrate him and all, but maybe... maybe if you just explained..."

"Feliciano," said Lovino, quieter this time. Feliciano looked over at his brothers bed, but could only just make out the outline of his back in the dim moonlight that came through the window. "Sometimes we have feelings which we will never be able to express. Sometimes we have secrets that should stay that way. Sometimes..." Lovino stopped and Feliciano waited, holding his breath, to see if he would continue. "Sometimes there are things that are just not worth the risk."

Feliciano did not respond. He closed his eyes and thought through Lovino's words. It was true. He would never be able to express what he felt; the confusing but wonderful, scary but thrilling, world altering feelings that overwhelmed him when with Ludwig - just looking at him, speaking to him, sitting beside him, thinking of him. And true, maybe some secrets should stay that way. Who knew what Ludwig would think if he knew the depth of all Feliciano felt and wanted? If he knew that Feliciano wanted to touch him, wanted to stay with him, wanted to hold him close and never let him go? Feliciano faced rejection, ridicule, and so much more. Ludwig was a German officer. Feliciano was a member of the resistance. The risk was huge. Torture, execution, the destruction of his family and the entire resistance. Lovino was right. How could it possibly be worth it?

But behind Feliciano's eyelids Ludwig was all he saw - brushing his hair impatiently from his eyes; smirking as he smashed a goal against the tree; staring at him intently with eyes bluer than the sky. Confused and wide-eyed in an enemies uniform, smiling and laughing in the sun soaked grass. All Feliciano could think of was Ludwig. All he wanted was to be with him.

If Ludwig wasn't worth the risk, then nothing was.