They met in a Biergarten outside of central Munich, and sat outside in the warm autumn air, just as the sun was glowing with redness on the horizon- a flush, embarrassed, like submitting to night would somehow heal the humiliation it felt. A soft breeze rattled the umbrella above them and the table, making the only noise in the entire area; remarkably, Roderich and Gilbert were alone in the little alcove beside the indoor restaurant, which made it all the more painfully awkward as they sat across from each other. They hadn't spoken a single word out loud to each other since the library, only texts, and even after they had sat down together, all Gilbert could think of to say was "Hi".

All abilities of smalltalk, not that he had ever been good at it, seemed to fly out of the window as they stared at their drinks in silence. Gilbert had ordered a beer like he had drank earlier that night, and by now, it was already halfway empty, the amber liquid through the glass casting abstract shapes of light on the table. Roderich sat behind some kind of flamboyant red drink in a wine glass which, to Gilbert, seemed natural that he'd order something pretentious- looking at him, he wondered if Roderich had ever even had a beer.

He imagined the night would go on like this forever, in dead silence, until they finished their drinks and parted ways awkwardly, but it wasn't to be: Gilbert watched as Roderich raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm terribly sorry for being so assertive with you, Gilbert," Roderich straightened his back and made what was probably the most painful eye contact he'd ever experienced. He looked like a king in his chair, with his hands folded on the table and his ruffly shirt resting on his skinny frame; Likewise, Gilbert felt much like a prisoner awaiting orders for execution.

"I merely…" Roderich stopped staring at Gilbert and dropped his gaze to his drink.

"What? You merely want some kid to play with because you don't know what else to do with your money?" Gilbert snapped. The look of hurt that formed on Roderich's face instantly sent a pang of guilt in Gilbert, and he looked away.

"No," Roderich said calmly, "But no matter. It's really of no consequence, anyway."

Feeling uncomfortable in his seat, Gilbert shifted, then took a long drink, "So you're a music major?"

Roderich nodded, and seemed to lighten up a little at the mention of it, "Yes, with a concentration in piano."

"Cool," Gilbert deadpanned, "I mean… what kind of job can you get with piano?"

Roderich looked offended, "Playing piano, of course. People will pay a great deal of money to host a performance for a great pianist."

Gilbert snorted and took a long drink of beer, "Yeah, but aren't the chances of that happening kind of slim? You have to be really great to do that. It's like becoming a famous singer or actor. You have to be really good, or just play your cards perfectly."

A look over anger twisted Roderich's delicate features, "Who says I'm not good enough? You've never even heard me play, so you're in no position to judge my success. I've worked hard for this my whole life. My parents even got me a grand piano for my barmitzvah. This is something I really want."

"Doesn't matter. A piano won't get you off the street when you're homeless, it won't provide for your loved ones, so you'd better make a back-up plan before it's too late," Gilbert sneered. His beer was nearly empty by now. A new one sounded nice.

Apparently, Roderich had had enough, because he leapt to his feet, nearly knocking over his drink in the process, "And I'm supposed to assume your little history degree will do anything, either? What are you going to be? A teacher?"

Gilbert's face fell, but soon his expression hardened and he jumped out of his chair as well. "Come on," He taunted, "Say that again, will you? Tell me how jacking off on a piano will earn you any more than I will!" Fortunately, no one else was near them to witness the outburst, but Gilbert watched out of the corner of his eye as the waiter slunk back into the kitchen with new drinks, trying to avoid the quarrel.

"Don't be so vulgar!" Roderich scolded, his cheeks tinted with red. Whether they were hot with embarrassment or anger, Gilbert didn't know. "You know, I thought you were different, like your grandfather- but you're nothing like him, Gilbert. He was kind, empathetic, and understanding. You are none of that. I thought you'd want friendship after he passed away, but I guess I was wrong."

"You don't even know me!" Gilbert exclaimed, raising his arms in the air wildly, "How could you know what I want, or even who my grandfather was?!" He sunk back into his seat, propping his head on his hand, "Please don't tell me you knew him before I told you he had passed away."

"I knew him," Roderich affirmed, sliding back into his seat as well. The tension around them had broken, but the painful awkwardness still hung densely in the air, "I knew him very well, actually. When I found out I had a class with his grandson, I was ecstatic. I thought maybe he'd be as eloquent and considerate as his grandfather, but I suppose everyone has to be wrong once in a while."

Gilbert was too concerned about the fact that even Roderich himself knew Opa Gerhard to care that he had been insulted, "But… how did you know him?"

Just as Roderich opened up his mouth to answer, the waiter stepped out towards their table, looking slightly anxious from their outburst earlier, "Another beer?" He asked, nodding at Gilbert's empty glass.

Gilbert shook his head before Roderich could give any consent, "The bill, please."

The waiter left and Roderich continued, "We're leaving so soon? Did you just come out here for a free beer and a chance to mock me?"

"I just had a lot of things on my mind, I guess," Gilbert admitted reluctantly, "My brother's at home by himself, and I needed to get out. I, uhh…" He looked down, laughing pathetically to himself, "I didn't want to look like a loser out here by myself, and I knew if I asked, you'd drop everything, so I asked you."

Roderich looked a little disappointed, "Oh, so anyway, about your grandfather."

Gilbert listened eagerly, attentively.

"When I was getting ready to finish up high school, he helped me sort some things together as I was preparing for college."

Gilbert scoffed in bewilderment, "That's it?"

"Yes, of course," Roderich said, as if it made complete sense.

The contradiction was that Roderich was, at most, Gilbert's age, if not younger, and whatever Opa Gerhard did, he had retired from over twenty years ago. Even if his work had any There was no way that any kind of work that he did was in affiliation with Roderich three or four years ago.

"But how?" He implored, "How could you have known him?"

The waiter returned with the bill, and Roderich dug around in his wallet for the required payment. Gilbert swallowed harshly, hoping Roderich would continue his explanation.

When it had been paid, Roderich turned back to Gilbert, "What were we talking about?"

Despite how much he desired to know, Gilbert knew he wouldn't be getting a straight answer anytime soon, and so he cleared his throat and stood up, "Nevermind. I should get home. My brother is alone- thanks… thanks for the beer, though."

Roderich's lips tightened, "It's not a problem. But I don't think we should do this again. I thought you were a different person, but I suppose you're not. Our personalities clash, Gilbert, and if we're both going to upset each other, I think it'd be wise if we keep our distance."

Gilbert almost said that he'd thought that from the very beginning, but that'd be furthering Roderich's point, and so he nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I guess." He flipped out his phone and sent a text to Ludwig.

I'll be home soon.

While he'd say that the outing was an uncomfortable disaster, he did feel a little better, and for that reason, he was slightly glad he had agreed to leaving the house. Ludwig would probably still be sulking in his room- the poor kid didn't have anything else to do, really. With only school to keep him busy, he never went out with friends, never got into any trouble. Essentially, he was the polar opposite of anything resembling a teenage version of Gilbert.

Nonetheless, Roderich declared he had some shopping to do in downtown Munich, and so he bid Gilbert goodbye and began strolling in the direction of the city center while Gilbert made his way towards the train station. Ludwig hadn't texted back yet, and while he wasn't the kind of kid to be drawn to his phone like others his age, he almost always texted back- especially when Gilbert texted him.

Brushing it off as he neared the train station, Gilbert figured his brother would likely just be moping around, still angry at the fact that they weren't receiving the money. In essence, Ludwig was receiving the money, something that would be of major use to him in the future, and he didn't doubt for a second that Ludwig would be responsible with it. For that, Ludwig should've been grateful.

The train ride home was peaceful- no loud kids with their bikes, and it was too early for the drunks to be stumbling in- but it was short lived, because soon he arrived at his house, swung open the door and began up the stairs.

"Ludwig! Do you want some dinner?"

There was no response as he neared his brother's room. Gilbert wondered if he was still crying. Another shout at him, but still, nothing, and Gilbert shook the handle of the door.

Locked.

Frustrated and exasperated, Gilbert jiggled the doorknob once more, "Come on, Ludwig, open up. I don't give a shit if you're mad at me. Open the door."

When he waited a moment, only for no reaction to occur, painful thoughts filled his head. What if…? No, impossible.

Trying to make light of the moment, Gilbert laughed sheepishly to himself, "Alright, I'm going to get a key, so if you're jacking off, I'm sorry." He scrambled into his room, grabbed a safety pin, and began picking the lock. Which, in reality, wasn't much of a pick, because the the small hole in the doorknob needed only to be poked by something small, and the door would swing open.

With a satisfying click, the lock was snapped and the door unlocked. Hand shaking, he opened the door swiftly, "Ludwig, you-"

Empty.

Ludwig's neatly made bed, organized desk and dresser were the only ones in the room to greet him, and instantly Gilbert felt his heart hammer wildly in his chest and his head pound. His knees buckled as he dashed around the small room, searching for a clue. The room was too small and neat for Ludwig to be hiding anywhere, but nonetheless, Gilbert looked beneath the bed, behind the desk- anywhere Ludwig could've hidden, but to no avail.

Finally, as a last ditch effort, he dashed around the house, searching every corner as his face continued heating up and sweat formed on his brow. Terrified of every possible outcome, Gilbert knew what the real consequences were: he was in charge now, and if this escalated to anything, he'd be responsible and likewise, banish any possibility of Ludwig staying with him- and all over a damn inheritance.

He glanced at his phone, not for a response from Ludwig, but deciding whether or not he should call the police. It was clear, of course, that they should be called, but if he did, and Ludwig turned up missing, that'd go on record and there'd be no way in hell they'd let him keep Ludwig, and off to some random family he'd be shipped.

After nearly fifteen minutes of searching, it became evident that Ludwig was not in the house at all, and with the extensive train system, could literally be anywhere in the Munich area. Pushing his bangs out of his eyes, Gilbert sighed, feeling panic rise in his gut like bile, and soon he was outside, pacing the streets, racking his brain for ideas as to where Ludwig could've gone.

The worst part was that Ludwig never went anywhere besides school, and so he had no indication as to where his brother would go- he didn't have friends, so he wouldn't be at anyone's house, he hadn't any places he liked to hang out or play sports, so Gilbert was left clueless in the winding streets outside of Munich.

Suddenly, he became inclined to look at his phone once more, and an idea struck him. It was crazy, he was going to regret it, and it would be miserable, but at the moment, he couldn't think of anything else to do.

Roderich, this sounds crazy, but my brother's gone and I need your help to find him.

He waited the longest minute of his life.

His phone buzzed and it was the sweetest noise he had ever heard.

I'm a little busy, but I'll see what I can do. Have you called the police?

No.

Why not?

It's complicated, but I really need help right now. I have no one else.

There was a very long break before Roderich texted back, and Gilbert's stomach did flips of worry.

Meet me at the place we met earlier. I'll be there in fifteen minutes.

Gilbert shoved his phone in his pocket and dashed off towards the train. He only hoped he'd find Ludwig before too much time passed.

Roderich arrived at almost the exact same time that Gilbert did, except Gilbert had gone by means of foot, and Roderich pulled up in a car that was probably worth more than whatever fortune Ludwig was receiving.

Stepping out of his car and sauntering over to Gilbert, Roderich asked, "So why can't you call the police?"

Gilbert shushed him, not wanting to draw attention to them, and led himself into Roderich's car, into the passenger seat. When Roderich joined him and they had closed all the doors, Gilbert continued, "Okay this is a really long story, so start driving."

Roderich turned the keys and the engine roared to life. Quite recklessly, he pulled out of the parking spot and Gilbert wondered where he had learned to drive.

"Okay, so here's how it happened," Gilbert sighed deeply, trying to summarize the past few days' events smoothly, "So this lawyer guy who happened to know my opa told us that we have this big inheritance heading our way, and we also have to deal with Ludwig's custody, if I'm to take care of him or if he'd be given away to some other family."

"That sounds awful," Roderich said sympathetically, turning down to a smaller street. Gilbert kept an eye out from the window, looking for a shock of blonde hair and a long stride.

"It is. Well, anyway, I denied the money, and-"

"You denied it?!" Roderich gaped, very nearly running into another car in his awe, "That's completely ludicrous!"

"Shut up and hear me out," Gilbert ordered. "Ludwig had the same thoughts as you- he got really pissed when I told him I didn't think we needed the money, even though the courts would more likely let him stay if I kept the money. Anyway, I didn't completely drop the money. I put it in a trust fund for Ludwig."

Roderich took a moment before responding, "That's sensible."

"I know," Gilbert huffed, relieved that finally someone could agree to at least that. "But Ludwig hated the idea for some reason, which is weird, because he's usually pretty reasonable, you know? And he got really angry, which I guess is why he ran away." Under his breath, he muttered, "Kind of odd for a kid so smart to just take off."

Roderich sighed, "Probably because he doesn't want to get taken away from you. Without the money, you might not be able to support him."

"You're starting to sound like Ludwig."

"Whatever. So, I'm taking it that you won't call the police because you're concerned that if they find out he left under your care, it'll eliminate all possibilities of him staying with you?" Roderich assumed correctly, and Gilbert nodded in assurance.

"That's about the size of it. And don't try and convince me that I should take the money, because I won't. I've already made up my mind about that." Gilbert swallowed harshly. The more he tried to convince himself that he didn't need the money, the less he believed any reason that he shouldn't take it. Hell, if he had taken it already, they wouldn't be in this mess. Ludwig would still be there, and he wouldn't be stuck in a car with Roderich.

"Suit yourself," They turned down another street, "So where are we going? Do you want to split up to cover more ground and see if we can find him that way? Or do you have another plan?"

Gilbert said nothing for a moment. With panic settling in like a plague, he sunk lower into his seat and tapped his fingers on the window. With the enormity of Munich, they would definitely need a plan, or at least some kind of course of action to find Ludwig quickly.

Because if Ludwig didn't turn up by the morning, he'd have no choice but to call the police, and by then, it wouldn't matter if they found Ludwig or not, because he'd have lost his brother either way.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Where do you think Ludwig is? I know, of course, but I'd like to hear your theories!