FANFICTION IS FINALLY WORKING.
My computer has been getting broken links to it all week.
But, that's probably just my computer being JBAKV BKA. :c
Okay, so I started this a looong time ago, but just got randomly inspired to continue it.
The concept in general was inspired by a vocab word in school. Stoicism. 8D
The super whatisthisidonteven angst part that I just bawled my eyes out typing was inspired by the 'Life is Beautiful' AMV on youtube.
Type that in, and it's like, the very first result.
Bare with me, though. This is probably a mess because it's going for 3:30 and I am ready to collapse. c':
Soyeah, enjoy~
Dear Diary,
Today is more serious. No more talking about how awesome I was , because we already know that. Now we are going to talk about stoicism. An indifference to pleasure or pain. That is exactly how he acts. He is emotionless; nothing phases him. WWII turned him into a different person. His boss made him do such terrible things that I am sure he regrets. But he cannot take them back.
People are damaged.
He is damaged.
And we are helpless.
I can't stand seeing my brother like this. I love him too much to see him in this much pain. I can't take it. But I just don't know what to do.
Diary, I-
Germany sat on the couch in his house staring at the muted wall. He didn't know how long he was there. His thoughts were all messed up. They were
overflowed,
haunted,
corroded
by the terrible things he witnessed. The first war was bad enough. The grim trenches were traumatizing to the nation. So many men; his and the Allies, died in those filthy pits. That smell never left his senses.
Death,
terror,
sickness,
blood,
decay.
The second world war was even more brutal. He was forced to kill people ruthlessly after just barely getting over the impact of the first war. However, he could not disobey his boss, so he had to go through with it. He hated seeing the people's faces turn a sickly green, then bright red as they blistered and were painfully asphyxiated with the deadly mustard and chlorine gas he was equipped with. Germany did not like to brutally kill anyone; he just wanted to get it over with. In the end, his boss got what he wanted anyway. The 'unworthy' people were gone. He was one step closer to that impossible to reach Utopia. It disgusted Ludwig. He felt like a monster.
Of course he would never let anyone know how he felt; how damaged he really was a sign of weakness. Weakness was bad. It made you a target for others. So Germany always had to work hard to keep the same indifferent expression on his face. Little did he know how much it troubled those who were close to him. He was oblivious to everything.
Everything other than the black emotion that was brutally tearing apart his entire being.
He wanted to stop it. Maybe the world didn't need Germany after all. Prussia can come back in all of it's former glory. All Ludwig's country did was plummet everyone else into tumult. 'Brutter will do better than I could', he thought.
The German numbly stood up. He felt so hollow and fragile, like he could just shatter any minute. He now knew exactly what he wanted. Silent tears began to stream down his face. His emotional dam finally broke. It broke him.
Shaky hands found a bloodstained gun. The exact one used to kill the one that caused all of his misery.
That person was gone. WWII was gone.
But the pain was still there.
Just like the blood.
The blonde shakily slipped his finger into the loop with the trigger, a maniacal smile now plastered on his face. He then began to laugh. "All his fault." he repeated over and over. "All. His. Fault."
Wait.
Brutter.
Ludwig remembered his brother again. Prussia. Still laughing, he unsteadily walked over to his phone and dialed Austria's number. He knew that Prussia would be there. Heheh. Heh.
Ice blue eyes gleamed unnaturally as the staticy dial tone sounded. Then, Gilbert picked up. "Edelstein residence. This is awesome speaking." he said boastfully. Austria was yelling unintelligably in the background. Not that Ludwig would care now.
His laughter subsided as he pressed the gun against his head.
"Brutter. I need you to promise me something." he whispered into the phone.
The confused Prussian on the other end of the phone nodded, worry beginning to bubble in his stomach.
His voice didn't sound right.
"Ja. Anything." he replied warily, his deep crimson eyes turning more frantic by the second. Hungary and Austria watched in silence now, unsure of what was going on.
Germany smiled again on the other line, his eyes still streaming those silent tears, The tears of all the people mourning over lost loved ones.
The tears of those who lost their own lives to his hands.
They were his and his were theirs.
"Promise me...that you won't make the same mistake I did." he started. "Don't be ruled by someone else."
"...Okay. I promise." Gilbert said, still confused.
"And one last thing. Make sure that no one cries over me." Ludwig said, his blue eyes contorting with so many emotions. He was too disgusting to be missed.
His finger slowly began to apply more pressure to the trigger of the loaded pistol.
"B-brutter! What are you talking about? Don't do anything stupid. I'm coming home right now." Gilbert said frantically, his fear now becoming a reality. He had to stop him.
Pale lips parted and whispered genuinely for the last time, "I love you brutter."
Then he pulled the trigger.
The German saw red for a moment, then was overwhelmed with the memories again. The pain, the suffering, the killing, the brutality.
...Then it was gone. He was free.
The albino on the other line screamed when he heard the loud crack go off. "Ludwig! Do- don't die! Don't die. DON'T DIE!" he screamed, tears pouring down his face.
He slammed the phone back on the receiver and rushed out of the house, leaving two other confused nations in his wake.
Gilbert reached the doorstep of his house gasping for breath. He had to be alive. This was all just a joke.
He convinced himself that his brother was still alive.
But when he opened the door, he was greeted with the ugly truth that he knew all along.
There he lie in a pool of blood matching the hue of the albino's eyes, the gun still clutched in his limp hand.
Prussia sprinted to his dead brother, collapsed next to him, and cradled his body. "Why...?" he choked.
He then saw the cursed gun in his hand and pried it out. "Why?"
-love him.
I should have been there for him.
I shouldn't have cowered from my feelings and ignored him all together.
And now he's gone.
Dead.
Forever.
I'm alone.
...but not for long.
I love him.
Goodybye forever, Diary.
Let my awesomeness live on.
-Gilbert Weillshmidt
And sorry for not updating A Tale of a Troll, and Awesome Guy, and Iceland.
I just haven't been like, in the mood to write any more yet. I have half of the chapter done. ;n;
So, join me in the emo corner now?
THIS WAS SO SAD. FFFFF
~ Aurora