or: 5 times Ludwig wanted to tell you he loves you + the 1 time he finally did.
tw: cursing, mention of anxiety, one mention of “my girl”, dick joke
one
“if you like this you should be tried for crimes and i’m not fucking kidding. like, this is-“
You’ve long since learned to tune Slime out.
ludwig would kid, when he’s wrapped in sheets with you at night in a too small bed, when it’s hard to tell who’s limbs belong to who’s, that Slime likes to hear himself talk-could argue with a wall and someone come out of the conversation still thinking he won-
you turn the cup over in your hand, weighing options, moving the liquid around waiting for it to become familiar.
“hey.”
ludwig’s voice is so quiet you’d almost miss it. his face is red and his head is down, like he’s talking to his lap, his hands folded on his lap. you can tell he’s been chewing on his nails again, the bloody stumps stare back at you-
“hm?”
a gentle nudge, would look more like a shoulder bump to an unsuspecting viewer.
“y’okay?”
it’s gentle, shared. this isn’t your scene-would rather be alone with him or a max three people at any given moment, definitely not in front of a shitty web camera to a few thousand people judging your every move, watching you carefully.
“i’m fine.”
it comes back strangled and you wonder if he knows the invisible hand around your throat, choking you.
“proud of you.”
your head whips to him, afraid you imagined this-instead he’s back to the camera, his online persona is on:
“Slime,” he says, “if you think that you’re truly fucked and beyond saving-“
two
“You can’t possibly think a straw is two holes. No one i date it thinking l-“
“Ludwig,” you huff, “Use your fucking brain. there’s one at the top and-believe it or not-the bottom. that’s two-“
“you’re so fucking dumb” it sounds a lot like “i love you” on his lips as it lingers and buzzes. He blinks and hopes you read morse code, the i love you that he’s throwing his life preserver to you.
As if checking on you again, his shoulder bumps with yours, a shared wink.
three
“it’s late,” you’ll say gently to ludwig, his glasses pushed up his face and his hair disheveled, obviously fucking with it as an anxious habit, “you should get some rest.”
your chin rests on his shoulder and you both act like you don’t feel how he deflates, relaxes around you.
“This video-“ he mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“can wait until tomorrow.”
you finish for him, hands hard on his shoulder, a gentle kiss to the top of his head: “come on,” no movement, “the beds too big without you.”
he snorts, his eyes slanted before he lets you take him by the hand, gently walk backwards as you pull him towards the bed. he flops in after you, his head on your chest as you draw constellations on his back, waiting for sleep to find him.
four
“give me a hug, please.”
it comes out more like a demand than a question, his hands snake around your waist and his chin on your shoulder.
“that wasn’t an ask.”
you’re teasing, obliviously, your hand wraps around to ruffle his hair affectionately,
ludwig carries this invisible weight on his shoulders, some invisible boulder he won’t dare let you know, how his shoulders slowly are giving in and coming into this pressure
“you okay?”
his voice is muffled into your neck, “never better.”
“lud-“
“shh,” he says, “you’re ruining the moment.”
his voice is muffled in your collarbone.
five
ludwig comes out of a crowded gas station with his hair dishelved, a million different directions obviously anxiously messing with it in a crowd of people.
“chips?”
“yeah?” it’s a question, like he’s afraid it’s a trap.
he’s quiet for a second before his voice comes back quieter:
“i got these because they’re your favorite,” he pauses for a second, like that’s too familiar too sweet has to add, “duh.”
“hardly a road trip.”
you’re eyeing the bag carefully. it’s a ten minute ride at best, picking something up at the store for him before a stream.
he shrugs, brings his sunglasses over his face, trying to hide the red across his face
“want one?”
you pop the bag open gently, going through the bag before picking the best out, gently feeding him one as both of your faces are red.
+ one
ludwig’s eyes are heavy next to you. you can tell even with his eyes on the road, slanted and narrowed, glaring at the yellow lines on the road.
“hey,” you nudge him, the familiar movement between you two, the same song and dance that you two always do, narrowingly missing feet, “pull over, let me drive.”
his voice borders on slurring: “what kind of boyfriend would i be if i made my girl drive home?”
it’s obvious he’s trying to smirk, to come off as this confident version of ludwig, but instead it comes off as a grimace, an uncomfortable look.
“you’d be a boyfriend who wants to get me home safely. seriously-let me drive, cmon.”
he groans but obeys, the click of the turn signal as he flicks it on, eases to the side of the road.
puts the car into park, rests the side of his face against the too rough seat: “i owe you. i’m sorry i’m a shitty boyfriend-“
“cmon ludwig,” you say gently, “you don’t mean it. move over, let me drive. i’ll get you home safe.”
“us.”
“hm?”
you’re in the drivers seat, clicking into the seatbelt as he fumbles with the seatbelt, his hand outstretched over the gear shift, he wiggles his fingers an obvious invitation.
you roll your eyes but link fingers with him gently. his eyes are already closed when he speaks
“i love you.”
for a second you’re afraid he’s sleeping, talking in his sleep-wouldn’t be the first time.
“don’t leave me hanging like that.”
your eyes snap to him, his eyes half shut but a lazy smile on his face as he rubs the pad of his thumb over your hand.
“i don’t know what you’re talking about.”
he groans, shuts his eyes:
“i love you, i love you, i love you.” he lets out a sigh like he’s been holding it for a long time, “i’ve been too big of a pussy to say it.”
you hum, turn the volume in the radio up, let him sit for a second, the pink in your face rising, can hear your heart in your ears, how you’ve been waiting for this
it rolls of your lips as easily as you’d hope:
“i love you too.”
