It had been a long time since Gilbert had opened a pack of Crayola Crayons. That was kid stuff, he liked to scoff. But still, inside the ex-nation was something that couldn't resist the allure of ninety-eight differently colored crayons. A whole new box, none of the crayons inside ever used before, each sharpened to bright and colorful perfection. And Feliciano had just left the box on the table next to a stack of computer paper. Like he wanted Gilbert to have it.
Gleefully, the ex-nation opened the package of crayons and upended the entire box onto the kitchen table, grabbing a sheaf of papers. The scent of wax and paper and glue rose up, and Gilbert felt something like creativity well up inside of him. He was no artist; not this nation born and bred to make war, oh no, but there was something about making big, bold lines on what used to be pure white paper. Something about coloring hard with the crayons, making the colors vibrant and intense, until the points dulled and they were reduced to stubs. The destruction of perfection, that's what he liked, monster that he was.
The perfection of Roderick's perfectly played music, his perfect and level-headed composure. The perfection of Elizaveta's lady-like demeanor. Everything. It was all too perfect. It didn't involve him.
He began rolling the crayons over, looking for his favorite color, Prussian Blue., but no matter how hard he searched, he couldn't find the crayon.
"Probably dropped on the floor," Gilbert muttered, crouching to look. But he couldn't find a crayon out of place. He stood and counted the crayons on the table. There were ninety-eight, just as advertised on the box. This couldn't be happening. Prussian Blue had always been a Crayola Crayon. Surely it would be in the box of ninety-eight?
This was unacceptable. Gilbert found the customer service number on the box and angrily punched the numbers into the phone.
"Crayola Crayon C-"
"Where's Prussian Blue?"
"Excuse me?"
"Prussian. Blue. What happened to it?" Gilbert growled. If only the customer service operator could see the expression on his face. He was seeing red, and that usually only happened when he was about to snuff out someone's life.
"A-ah…mister…?"
"Weildschmidt."
"Mister Weildschmidt. Well, you see…."Prussian Blue" was renamed to "Midnight Blue" since the country of Prussia has ceased to exist and the name fell into disuse."
"…o-oh…I see…thank you."
He hung up.
He was…obsolete. He…his country had been gone for so long…people didn't know what Prussia had been anymore. No one remembered. As awesome as he had been…he had faded. Like an old photograph left in the sun. All his brilliant colors…all his power…
He wasn't just dissolved now, he was gone…
"East?"
Silence greeted Ludwig as he entered the house. He'd have assumed his brother was gone, but Gilbert's car was in the driveway.
"East?"
Ludwig peered into the kitchen. Paper and crayons were scattered all over the table.
Crayons.
Crayola Crayons.
"No…"
With tears in his eyes, Ludwig slowly picked up the crayons and placed them in the box. Except for one.
'Midnight Blue' he would keep in his pocket…for a brother who was now long gone.
A/N:...I'm so mean to Gilbert....v.v