Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart - GerIta

Chapter 16

Feliciano nodded, hefting his bag under his arm and following Roderich to a compartment at the end of the hall. Inside, deep brown leather benches faced each other beside the tall windows, alongside a shiny wooden table and elaborate light fixtures. Long, gold ties held back dark red curtains, and plush, red material carpeted the floors. The compartment was only around the size of his bathroom at home, but it looked like pictures Feliciano had seen of hotels and restaurants in places like London and New York. Feliciano stood still and whistled softly. "I had no idea trains were so fancy."

Roderich gave a tiny shrug as he placed his suitcase on the rack overhead. "It is pleasant enough. The line from Berlin to Vienna had slightly larger compartments." Roderich took Feliciano's bag and Feliciano bounced into the big, comfortable seat by the window, staring around and wishing he had brought his camera to take photographs for Lovino.

"You must be really rich, huh, Roderich?" Roderich just let out a short breath of laughter, placing a newspaper from his pocket on the table and taking the opposite bench. Feliciano turned to him and grinned. "How long until we get to Berlin?"

Roderich bit his lip, trying to hold back his laughter. "Two days, Feliciano. But this is an Italian train, so..." Roderich shrugged apologetically. "Possibly longer."

Feliciano's shoulders fell and his heart sank. He had not expected the journey to be so long - how could he possibly wait so long? "Oh."

Roderich's smile turned kind. "But I brought some books. And the kitchen serves quite excellent cuisine."

Feliciano immediately brightened. "Do they make pasta?"

Roderich laughed again. "I said this was an Italian train."

.

The afternoon passed as quickly as Feliciano expected - which was, of course, far too slowly. Feliciano tried what he could to take his mind off waiting. He went for a long walk along the length of the train, into carriages darker and shabbier than his and Roderich's, and tried to guess where passengers were from by chattering at them in a mixture of three languages. He cuddled a fluffy puppy belonging to a little girl from Salzburg in second class and had a very interesting chat about buttons with a nice Roman lady in third. He raced all the way back to his seat in first class, saluting the stewards on the way, and put his limited German into practice by shouting, "Hallo! Ich bin italienisch!" at a passing Austrian couple who rolled their eyes and nodded as though that sentence seemed to explain something.

As the evening drew on, Feliciano flicked through Roderich's books on the German language and culture, disappointed at the lack of pictures of any kind. He stared out the window and tried to guess exactly what part of the beautiful Italian countryside they were currently travelling through. He headed out into the hall, chatting with the stewards and juggling oranges from the food cart and playing marbles on the floor with a little English boy who kept telling him he 'spoke funny.' He prodded Roderich with questions about Berlin and Ludwig's village and what Ludwig's grandfather was like and how much longer it would be until they finally arrived because this endless, interminable day just seemed to stretch on forever. And when the dinner bell finally rang, Feliciano jumped up and raced into the hall, desperate for another distraction.

The first-class dining car was even fancier than the rest of the train, and Feliciano was delighted to see that Roderich was right about the cuisine. Feliciano finished his fettuccine pesto so quickly that Roderich gave him the rest of his own, explaining that he didn't eat that much anymore. By the time they arrived back at their compartment, the light had long since faded outside. The gold lamps flickered brightly, and still the constant, whirling, restless excitement turning in Feliciano's stomach and buzzing through his veins refused to subside. He simply did not know what to do with himself. How could he possibly sit in this seat, quiet and still, for another two days? How could he sleep, how could he breathe, how could he stop for one moment to think, when Ludwig was so close? No, he had to keep moving. Had to keep talking. Feliciano practically bounced in his chair as he spoke. "Roderich, where do you think we are? Are we still in Italy? I wonder if we've crossed into Austria... Roderich, what is Austria like? What is your home like? Is it..."