The house wasn't the same for Gillian anymore. The warm, welcoming air seemed to have vanished. The scent of beer, love, with a dash of meat, was replaced the smell of the crisp winter air. The dim candles were blown out, his lamp located on his nightstand was turned off. Gillian just sat in his bedroom, alone and cold in the darkness. Night always seemed to come early for Gillian, mostly when he's in a dark stage of his overwhelming depression. Dark bags gathered underneath the males crimson eyes from the lack of sleep and food. He hasn't slept a second since the fight with him. The harsh profanity he gave him stuck in the depths of his hallow mind. The insults, the hits, the kicks, never seemed to leave the Prussians memory. He cringes at the thought, and clutches on his soft, snow like hair. His thick locks locked between his fingers as he closed his eyes tight, and whispers: "I'm not your brother."

The male brought his knees to his chest, while soft weeps and cries overwhelmed his body. He felt tense. His neck begun to swell and tighten up around itself. Gillian found it difficult to breathe for a moment or two. This triggered an event in his life which he tried to forget. A few years before, Gillian spent his lonely days in a concentration camp. He can't remember exactly where it was, or where it was called. All he knew that it was located nearby. The so called soldiers teased Gillian, and demanded him to speak. As being an antisocial, Gillian refused to let out anything, he just sat and took his punishment calmly. However, once one of the men begun to step on his neck, the weight caused him trouble to breathe, and his vision became blurry. Gillian glanced up and swore he saw a familiar man. A man named Ludwig Beilschmidt. Ludwig was sixteen during the time, and was a "perfect" Aryan. Gillian has never felt so betrayed in all his centuries of living. He never really got to know Ludwig, but to know his brothers "other" actually did that to him... Sickened him. Was Luther involved in that? He often questioned himself, but never wanted to answer. His brother Luther (Ludwig's 2p.), was a friendly lad. Gillian would of never imagined his brother might be one of those disgusting swine: a Nazi.

However, past is the past. Gillian thought. He glanced up and wiped his eyes on his sweatshirt sleeve. Oh dear, how cold it was. He slowly stood up and walked over to the window. He glanced outwards and saw the wall. The wall that has been separating Gillian and Luther's brotherhood since a few months back. It's nearly Christmas, and so far no contact from Luther. He wondered how he was most of the time. Was Luther going to school, was he doing alright, was he being bullied? Simple things. Gillian wished to spend the holidays with his brother, but knew that wish would be impossible. Tearing up in his own regret, he covers his eyes, and then looks out of the window. A single snow flake fell on the window, and slowly melted away at the sight of Gillian.

Gillian was startled as he heard a knock on his bedroom door. Who was there? He didn't have any living relatives besides Luther? Was it Luther!? He quickly spun around in excitement, and almost to tears. But instead of seeing his precious younger brother, instead there was Ivan. Ivan was around the same age as Gillian. He was a proud Russian, and became a bit mentally messed up during the change to Soviet Union. The Soviet Union owned East Germany during the time, and the idea of putting up a wall to prevent Capitalism was from Ivan. Not because he didn't want two different Government types from clashing, he didn't want Luther and Gillian to join together. To finish the commitment of the two nations, Gillian and Ivan were arranged to be wed. Gillian is a male, and he knew homosexuality was still illegal in the country, but the marriage was the only way finalize the nations.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," Ivan begun in his thick accent. "I just wanted to drop by and say somethings before the wedding tomorrow."

"Oh.." Gillian spoke softly, and crossed his arms across his chest. "Well, that makes sense... So, what do you want?"

"I just wanted to see if you're consent about all of this." Ivan spoke.

"... A little." Gillian murmured and pressed his finger tips against each other. "I'm.. Well.. Unsure about this." The Prussian said. "After all, I don't know how Gilbert is reacting to this. I... I know you two never got along."

"Gilbert already knows. I don't think he minded."

"Really?" The unsure Gillian questioned.

"Really." Ivan gave his soon to be "Wife" a soft smile, and slowly walked over to Gillian. He noticed his cheeks were wet, as if he was crying shortly before he arrived. "Gillian? Were you crying?" Ivan seemed concerned and slowly reached up. His touches his soaked cheeks softly, and rubs his thumb against his skin.

Gillian couldn't help himself from blushing. His albino pale cheeks lit up like Christmas lights. His gaze adverted elsewhere, and his speech got a little bit understandable. "I..." He went on in gibberish.

Obviously Ivan didn't understand exactly what Gillian was trying to say. He noted the anxiety seemed to control his fiance. He caress Gillian's soft cheeks, and held his face tight. Ivan pulled his face forwards his own. As their lips were centimeters apart, Gillian slowly forced Ivan away from him. He slightly felt Ivan's lower lip caress his own, but pulled away before their lips collided in a tender kiss. Ivan blinked his slightly purple eyes, and stared at Gillian with a look of confusion. Did he do something wrong?

"I'm sorry..." Gillian frowns and gazes down at the floor. "I don't want to do anything until the wedding.."

"Oh, that's fine! I completely understand." Ivan smiles, caress his cheek some more, but pulls away. "I'll see you tomorrow then? At the ceremony?"

Gillian nods.

Ivan gave him a small wave, then turns to leave. Gillian stared at the door, and strolls over to close it. His heart pounds against his chest, and his cheeks were aflame. He felt a small spark from Ivan, could he be already developing a crush on him? No. That's absurd. Without question, he goes back to his bed and lays down. He embraced his pillow and soft blanket. Tomorrow was not going to be his day, or would it?