Black tattooed wings stretch across his back.
On the good days, they remind him who he is. He is Prussia. He lived and breathed as a nation. They remind him of his proud history, of all the greatness he has accomplished. Of standing over his enemies, proud in their defeat. Of late night beer drinking, running with the local youths who had no idea who he really was, just for the sake of having fun. They remind him of his friends and how even though they often stood on opposite sides of the war, they were always friends in the end, and of his family-his baby brother who's grown so much and become so great.
But not everyday can be a good one.
That greatness seems empty when he thinks of the lives he's taken; the lives he's ruined.
They're his curse as well. His demon wings. For they also remind him of how fall he's fallen from his position. How his immortality, his position of influence in history, his very existence is gone. It all fades like whispers in the wind.
Now he's just Gilbert Belishimet. A normal human being. Never before has the word normal taken on such a terrible meaning.
It didn't happen all at once. It was a gradual reduction. First he was Prussia. Then he became a part of Germany. One by one he watched the other states fall away, but he still remained. Was it due to the government being in the hands of the Prussian Junkers? Was it all due to Bismark?
He never found out.
Then he evolved. Germany was split in two after World War Two. Suddenly he had a role to play, no longer as Prussia, but at East Germany. Life with Russia wasn't terrible, it wasn't great, but it wasn't then end of the world.
The Cold War was just a mess. Heck, at that point, he cared more about being free than anything. What he would have given to be able to live in his own house, to be able to see who he wanted to and not be shut up behind the iron curtain.
And what a price he now has to pay.
He fought it off as long as he could. Loosing his immortality is like a disease taking over a body. It sucks the lifeblood until all that's left is the human self. But it's hard to kill someone who is so determined to stay young, to never grow old. Eventually though, the fight would have to be lost. One gets tired of fighting and in the end gives up.
His immortal self died, and all that was left of him was Gilbert Beilshmidt.
Everyone was stunned. But the one who was stunned the most was her.
If he was the demon with his black wings, she was the angel with her golden hair and wide innocent green eyes. Untainted by all the deaths and killings he knows all too well about. He never told her about any of this, why ruin her perfection with the pain of his untimely demise.
To be honest, Gilbert felt that he would be able to remain a country forever, that he could defeat the disease. Even if he couldn't do what countries do, he could still harass his brother, hang out with his friends, and just be stupid and get into trouble. Eventually though, he was going to have to grow up.
Roddriech has a pool party. Gilbert goes just to show everyone, just to prove, he is still involved in their lives. Everyone's there, and all of them can't decide whether to ignore him or to cry on his shoulder. What need have they to cry, Gilbert thinks bitterly. I'm the one that's dying.
But he pretends he never has those thoughts and is instantly in the midst of the action, going on about anything and everything. And he can read it in all their eyes, how hard they are all trying, how badly they are all failing.
He breaks away when he feels the tears. He strips his shirt off and quickly dives into the pool, that way if any renegade tear falls, he can blame it on Roddriech putting in too much chlorine. When he resurfaces, the sun blinds his eyes, illuminating the dazzling figure in front of him.
"Lily," he breathes, hardly able to talk. What can you say in front of an angel like her?
"Gilbert. Nice to see you finally make it into the water." Her hair is gathered back in a small pony tail, slicked back from the water, and she is wearing a one-piece bathing suit that is open in the back. If only Vash wasn't such an overprotective brother.
"I figured because it was a pool party, we were supposed to get into the water. You wouldn't know it from how dry all of them are." A small grin breaks out on her face.
"How bout we change that?" He smirks and shake his head before realizing she's serious and raises his eyebrows. She sees his reaction and frowns in slight confusion but continues her teasing tone. "Or are you scared?"
That gets him going. Gilbert is afraid of nothing and no one. Not even death. So why should he care about some wimps getting wet?
But it's no longer the same anymore.
"I ain't scared of anything. But why should I waste my time on them when I can hang out with you." with what little time I have left, he can't help but think. They both flush at his boldness. But she doesn't argue when he hauls himself out of the pool and grabs the hand he stretches out to her.
They sneak away from the party with surprising ease and Gilbert takes her to the mall. There he finds huge temporary angel wings tattoos and buys it without a second thought.
"What's that for?" she asks with a small smile while they checkout.
"You," his voice chokes on the word. She doesn't notice. They find a family bathroom and he puts it on her with shaking hands, pressing the damp tattoo to her freshly dried skin. She keeps spinning around when it's done trying to see her back. They both laugh at her silliness. He wants to kiss her so bad right now; all he wants to do is press his lips on hers and know what she tastes like.
He is a demon, fallen from all he knew before, unable to ever get back, doomed to die. She is his angel alive and full of life.
There was never any hope for them.
A/N: i probably won't be continuing this, because I have no idea where to continue this. If I continue it, it will just get sadder.
Review and let me know what you think.