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So, Feliks and Ivan are coming in soon! I'll fitting them in as soon as I can. Actually...Feliks is coming...sooner than you think...heheh...so...yeah. As soon as Ivan comes in, there's going to be more cute and sad parts. Well, I look forward to tearing out your heart strings, but until then...chapter two!
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The two boys hid out half successfully, nearly getting caught by a soldier, just once. But he was too drunk so slipping past him was like outrunning a toddler. A toddler that didn't know they were playing chase in the first place.
The sun was risen, and it was about six-thirty in the morning. Feliciano yawned in exhaustion. A cup of coffee sounded really nice to him right then, but even if he wasn't in the middle of a small, deserted town, that'd be tough. Oh yeah, and I believe I mentioned something about a deserted town.
"Lud...I think we're lost..." Feliciano sighed as he dropped his bookbag and fell onto his bottom with a thud.
"No, we're not. I'm just trying to find a route to Switzerland...we will, unfortunately, have to go through Po- Feliciano, don't fall asleep on me!"
The Italian was curled up in a ball like a cat, sleeping soundly on the dry earth.
Ludwig cursed silently and sat down next to him. Then he decided to tell him the plan anyway, because he figured he'd be a better listener unconscious than awake.
"So, we will have to go through Poland, unless you feel like swimming to Sweden. If only we had boats...but anyway, Poland is only about three hours away from where we are now. But of course, Poland will take forever to cross through...well...unless we cut around the edge, and end up in Germany. Um...no...I say we try to get to Czechoslovakia. So yes, we'll go through Poland, then find ourselves in Czechoslovakia. Now, if we cut through the way I planned, we should find ourselves in Austria, and hopefully not Hungary. I'd like to keep the amount of countries we go to as small as possible. But anyway, if things go accordingly, we'll be in Austria. If we go like...um I think West...we'll be in Switzerland!"
Feliciano groaned.
"That's too far..." he whined.
Ludwig jumped.
"You're awake?! How much did you hear?"
"Um...all of it..." he muttered, rubbing painful dust from his eyes.
"Good. So I won't have to repeat myself."
...
...
Ludwig dragged the lazy redhead along like an oversized rag-doll. The toes of his boots scraped the ground, since he decided he didn't want to move his legs. Feliciano had never gone a whole night sleepless, so it left him in exhaustion at its ultimate form.
"Pick up your feet! I cannot be expected to drag you all the way to Switzerland, can I?!" Ludwig growled.
Feliciano lazily lifted up his arm and gave him a thumbs up sign.
"Sounds fine with me..." he yawned. Then his hand fell down limply beside him, as if he were weak and dying. Ludwig let out a frustrated growl.
"You are such a-!"
"Good friend? I know, thank you Ludwig, you are, too..." he said sleepily.
The blond boy nearly crushed his friend's face in with his boot. He didn't do that, but however, he did give him quite a good kick.
"Owowowowow!" Feliciano shrieked rapidly.
Ludwig smirked in satisfaction. He had woken up Feliciano, and showed him who the figure of authority was there. The kid was on a roll!
"Nn...are we close to Poland?" Feliciano asked, sounding a bit dazed.
Ludwig nodded.
"Shouldn't be too long. Ten minutes, at the least!" he answered with a small smile. Feliciano let out a sigh of relief. Probably assuming they'd find a place to rest once they reached Poland. Silly boy, this is Ludwig we're talking about.
"Oooh, maybe we can pick up something hot to eat! I'm so hungry!" Feliciano drooled a bit at the thought of fresh soup or whatever they have to serve.
"Idiot! We can't buy anything!"
"...why not?"
Ludwig face palmed, and refused to answer such a stupid question. And to his relief, his lack of answering also brought in a nice silence, while Feliciano was being awake. How that happened is beyond anyone's comprehension.
...
...
A boy with longish blond hair walked on the dirt path, clasping his left hand around his right arm awkwardly. His usually amazing green eyes were dulled and staring down at the ground as he walked. There was a cut on his lip from a beating a week ago, and a bruise on his right eye from a three days ago, and I bump on his head from only an hour ago.
It was undeniable, the children around him loved picking on him. All the mental drillings and the thorough beatings. That's what they loved. Even German soldiers hate him. Because being a homosexual is horrible. Only satanized people are into their own gender. Or at least, that's what people say. But he never got what was so bad about it. Was he committing a serious sin by preferring to date a guy over a girl?
His wobbly legs gave out from beneath him, sending him to the dirt. Raising his head the slightest, he rubbed the earth off of his face, which was already dirty enough, and was in no need for another round of dust and dirt. His arms vibrated like crazy as he hauled himself up.
Just keep going...home is the way...he thought as he started up walking again.
Town was not too far up ahead, but he felt like he had another mile to walk.
One step. Two step. Three step. Four step. One meter. Two meter. Three meter. Four meter. One mile. Two mile. Three mile. Four mile. With lead-heavy legs, that's easily how it can feel to a boy.
He sluggishly climbed up creaking wooden porch-steps. Grandmother slept like the lazy old lady she was. He glared at her snoring body and resisted the urge to kick her. That woman was the bane of his existence.
Turning away from her, he pushed the door open. His cheek muscles stretched until they hurt, and they shaped a magnificent phony smile. Artificial happiness and joy lit up his dull eyes.
"Papa! Mama! I'm home!" he greeted with a grin. Footsteps sounded from the nearest room. His mother came to greet the boy with a real smile. Something to be envied, indeed.
She brought him into a bone-crushing hug. Her muscular arms nearly squeezing the breathe out of the poor boy. Another set of footsteps came to greet him. His father. Who said hello with a handshake. With secret disappointment, he took the hand and shook it.
"Eh...what's this?" his father asked, pushing away his blond bangs to see the bright, red bump, clear as day, on his forehead.
"Getting into more fights I see. Well, I trust you won?"
The boy gritted his teeth. And the lied through the gaps.
"Yes, I beat them good, Papa..."
No. He did not fight. No. This is considered a loss.
His father expected him to be strong. All the beatings he got from the children were assumed to be battle scars by the kid's father.
"Feliks, don't be going off beating those kids hind-ends like that, alright? I'm sure they don't enjoy it." his mother said, ruffling his hair.
"Yes, ma'am..." if it wasn't for that last part, Feliks probably wouldn't be feeling angry with her, too. Mama didn't understand. Papa didn't understand. Who could understand?
"I'm going off to work now-"
"But I just got home, Papa!"
His father raised an eyebrow.
"Maybe if you would try to get home earlier we could see more of each other."
He gave Feliks mother a quick peck on the cheek and didn't bother with Feliks. Apparently he was too old for affectionate goodbyes.
...
...
"This is it Feliciano..."
Feli looked at his friend excitedly.
"Really!?"
He nodded.
"Welcome to Poland."
- Darn, this was shorter than I wanted it to be. -exaggerated sigh- Oh well. So, we've got some Feliks in the house. Woop! I'm itching to fit Ivan in here, seriously! Well, I bid you farewell! Until the next chapter!