This is the first part of a rather long story. It's a PrussiaxCanada AU-fic, and I hope you'll enjoy the angst, the drama and the love~! ^^ Oh, and it's shounen-ai, so if it's not your cup of tea, no one's forcing you to read. Rating is due to language and some darker themes, not due to the love (just felt like mentioning that).
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia – Axis Powers or any of its characters.
oOo
Fuck, it was cold… Gilbert Beilschmidt pulled his jacket tighter around himself in a small attempt to ward of the chilly December winds. Even so, they seemed to seep straight through, insisting to freeze his slender frame to the bone. The streets were pretty much empty, with the exception of the occasional late Christmas shopper, or a group of friends, or a couple huddling together.
Damn winter. Damn Christmas time. Damn him for going out in this cold-ass street only to walk aimlessly and grow even more depressed than he was before he pretty much escaped from the comfortable, warm house. He couldn't help it, though; the house was far too huge and empty for his liking, with his younger brother being away on a trip with Feliciano, his boyfriend.
It wasn't like he had anything better to do than to walk aimlessly, other than sit at home and watch TV or do something equally useless. While others loved vacations, he found himself truly, sincerely despising them. He would prefer his job as an assistant at the library over vacation any time. Unfortunately, the local library had closed down for the holidays, leaving him with nothing to do. Of course, he didn't really care, he had no problems with doing nothing, because even nothing became awesome when he was included.
At least that's what he tried telling himself, in his war with melancholy. If anyone asked him about it, he'd just grin and spout all sorts of cocky strings about being awesome and stuff. Now when he was alone, though, the mask had fallen, and he was left to gaze solemnly around.
The windows to the shops were full of Christmas articles. Santa Clauses, angels, stars. Christmas lights, Christmas tree decoration, Christmas mumbo-jumbo. Fuck.
What was so great about Christmas anyway? Rich families sticking their happy asses together and celebrating as if they had no care or worry in the world. Kids laughing happily, stuffing their faces with candy and cakes, or pouting because they didn't get the action figure or doll they had wished for. Parents making delicious food and kissing each other below the mistletoe.
Gilbert didn't need that sugary crap to be happy. So what if his own parents had died ages ago. So what if his brother was always busy doing something or the other, being with his friends or his little Italian lover. So what? It wasn't like he cared anyway. It wasn't as if he was lonely or anything, right? Of course not…
His reflection in a shop window told a different story, however, showing him the pale, down-spirited face of a nineteen-year-old, with unusual red eyes practically shining with envy and pain.
"Ack, stop looking so unawesome…" he muttered to himself, frowning and turning away from his reflection, briskly continuing on his path to nowhere. That must be where he belonged after all; nowhere. A place where no one had to be bothered by his bothersome presence. Because it was as clear as day to him that most of the people he considered friends and family, considered him a downright pain in the ass.
A nuisance, a bother, a cocky bastard, a freak, an idiot. Unneeded. Unwanted.
Damn it, he shouldn't be thinking this sort of stuff. He was awesome, and he didn't care what others thought of him. They could say whatever the fuck they wanted about him, he couldn't care less. Really.
Taking an abrupt turn, he headed into a random shop, partially to get out of the cold, but also to do find something he could distract his thoughts with. The shop, he realized, was an instrument store, where shiny instruments were lined on shelves, and where pianos and guitars stood in some sort of strange system on the floor. The plan to distract his train of thoughts went down the drain.
The store was so clean and tidy that it immediately reminded him of Roderich, one of his… friends. Just like the Austrian man he'd known since his childhood, the store had a fairly warm and inviting look, yet seemed to hold a sophisticated air that frowned at the likes of him. He felt pretty out of place in his worn winter jacket and jeans that were a bit too large, the bottoms wet with melted snow with icy drops slowly slipping into his shoes.
Ignoring it, he instead walked slowly around, taking in the sight of the various instruments. There were small ones, big ones. String instruments. Air instruments. Every instrument he knew of, as well as a few others were there.
He stopped next to a shelf, taking his gloves of and picking up a delicate-looking flute. The sight of the silver instrument yet again made his mind wander. His grandfather, old man Fritz had taught him to play the instrument. No one else knew. He had never told anyone, because even he could see that the instrument didn't fit his image at all. He was more like an el-guitar type of guy, or perhaps a loud and obnoxious trumpet… Not a light, sweet flute.
To think that the only reason he begun playing the instrument was that he'd heard Roderich play on his piano all those years ago, and had developed a sort of dream to be able to play along with him some day. He'd asked old man Fritz which instrument would fit, and he'd mentioned that a flute tone was rather nice along with piano.
It was so random. Yet, after playing for a while, he became good at it, and he kept doing it, growing better and better. Even after old man Fritz died, he continued learning on his own. Hell, he even listened to tons of classical music, to absorb information and knowledge.
Once, he'd brought his precious flute along in the inner pocket of his jacket while going over to Roderich's place, listening to his friend playing the piano. He remembered how he had fidgeted and stuttered and acted like a shy school-girl. He'd somehow managed to ask the other boy what he thought about flute and piano duets.
Roderich had given him a strange look, then a small chuckle and said that those two instruments didn't fit well together at all, at least in his ears.
When he walked home that day, he'd thrown the flute into the river in a rage, frustrated tears adorning his cheeks. He hadn't played since.
Gilbert gave a sigh where he stood, shaking away the memory as his hand almost lovingly ran across the instrument in his hands before he abruptly swallowed and put it back on the shelf. He was about to walk away, but stopped. A part of him missed the strange comfort the music gave him. Ah hell, screw that aristocratic bastard! Stomping back, he grabbed the flute and marched over to the counter, fishing out his card to pay for it. This time it was for his own sake, he thought, he could play just fine on his own.
The lady beneath the counter glanced from the flute to him, and looked doubtful, but smiled anyway, asking if she should wrap it in as a present. He shook his head, contemplating whether or not he should be offended, but figured that there was no need. Sure, the instrument might not fit his exterior, but it fit his heart. He flinched at the thought. Fuck, that sounded cheesy.
The bell above the door chimed in the background, a sign of someone entering the store. Gilbert wouldn't particularly have cared, if he hadn't one moment later heard the astonished, yet controlled voice of the last person he wanted to see at the moment.
"Gilbert…?" he whirled around, startled and stared at the two people standing there, holding hands, even. Roderich and Elizaveta… Fuck. Seeing them being all happy-couple-like pulled the trigger for more depression – it seemed everyone had someone to spend time with. Everyone except for him.
"What are you doing here? This is an instrument store, you know…" Elizaveta commented, cocking her head slightly as she gazed at him. What did she think he was, some sort of retard? Well, she probably did. They all probably did. He couldn't really say he blamed them.
"Really, I had no idea…" he found himself replying before managing to swallow the sarcastic bite to his tone.
"Sir, your f-"
"Thank you," he interrupted the lady, rather harshly – a jolt of guilt running through his body at the small jump she made at his tone. He turned fully to her and gave a small smile that only she could see, as a sorry excuse for an apology, although it soon turned to a grimace as he quickly pulled the flute of the counter, wishing it was small enough to go unnoticed.
"You bought a… flute?" Roderich asked, his eyebrows raised. Damn him, looking all amused and stuff, as though it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever seen.
"Uh… Heh, yeah." Was the only pathetic response he could get out, forcing his confident mask up on his face as he eyes the extremely doubtful and wondering faces of the lovely couple. There was a pregnant pause, and then;
"Why…?"
"Why not? Flutes are awesome instruments, you know!" he countered, a grin forced onto his features. Habit and his own personal defences forced him to hide the emotions swirling around inside him. Not that he thought they'd be worried if they noticed that he wasn't exactly in the best of moods, they might even laugh. No one thought that the cocky, obnoxious young man was capable of felling such un-awesome feelings as depression, loneliness, sorrow, and so on and so forth.
"Um, sure, but… Gilbert, are you even musical?" Elizaveta said, giving a small chuckle, as though she found it funny. Well, of course she found it funny, why the hell wouldn't she? Everything Gilbert did always seemed to be funny. Or insane. Or abnormal in some way or the other.
"I highly doubt he has a musical bone in his body," Roderich murmured, shaking his head slightly. Gilbert felt his blood rush to his cheeks, grin slowly fading and being replaced by a hurt anger that the two didn't seem to recognize at all.
"Even if you are musical, why a flute of all things?" Elizaveta chuckled again. Ha ha, yeah sure, go ahead, laugh at the stupid German freak. The tough-guy who plays a sissy instrument like a flute.
"Tch, I already said; it's awesome. Now excuse me, I've got better things to do than to hang around being mocked by you two love-birds," he grumbled, not giving a flying fuck that he let his mask down and let his true feelings seep out, if only for a fleeting moment.
"Gilbert, what-" Elizaveta sounded a bit startled, but Gilbert ignored it, marching towards the exit. He was nearly out the door when he heard Roderich's voice.
"Where have you been lately, anyway?" he stopped at this, not turning to look at them in fear of losing his composure even further. It was true that he hadn't gone to Roderich's place much lately, like he used to.
"I've been busy…" he muttered. It was a lie. He'd been depressed. Besides, it wasn't like they wanted him there – they, because Elizaveta was always there – that much was obvious. No matter how he tried to behave, he still had an annoying tendency to seem irritating to other people, and he responded in the only way he knew – he put up a mask. No one could know that the person who didn't seem to care about what people thought, was deathly afraid of rejection.
He wasn't sure what he hoped for. Perhaps a simple question like 'is something wrong?' or a statement like 'we missed you'. It was absurd, of course. The only sound he heard was a short chuckle. Clearly the thought of him being busy doing something other than pestering them was either very ridiculous or very entertaining. Gilbert's teeth clenched in his mouth as he let the door slam shut behind him, heading down the street in a hurry. In his other pocket, the small gifts he'd bought for the two earlier that evening seemed to mock him.
Friends. Yeah right.
His feet carried him further away from the store, but eventually they slowed down to a more calm pace yet again, his hands stinging from the cold as he realized he'd forgotten his gloves back on the shelf in the store. Fuck.
As he headed home, he reached a small bridge a bit outside the busiest part of the city, stretching over a not-so-big, twirling river, which was partially frozen over, yet running rapidly. The sound of running water was somewhat relaxing, and he sighed, leaning on the edge, gazing into the dark water between the specks of ice.
Taking out his flute, he brought it out of its protective case. Showing the package into his pocket, he looked quickly around before lifting the flute to his lips, gently blowing. It had a beautiful sound, almost like his old one, although this was slightly deeper and more… melancholy. Well, that might be due to his mood, he wasn't sure.
"Hm, haven't forgotten how to play," he murmured to himself before closing his eyes, letting his imagination and feelings flow into the instrument as he played. He couldn't care less if someone came by and heard him. Why should he care if they decided to stop to laugh and point at him?
Why should he care that he was fucking crying as he played, tears of both anger, frustration, hurt, loneliness and every depressing emotion that currently swirled through his mind, making their way down his flushed cheeks? No one else cared, so why the fuck should he…?
His mask was thrown, and he simply let his emotions flow, as the river bubbled in tune underneath him. A new sting of pain made itself known in his chest as he knew that this was probably the closest he'd ever get to playing a duet.
oOo
To be continued...
I hope you liked it! I'll post more if I get a few good reviews, and not just a bunch of nameless favs~ ^^