This has been plaguing me for months, and I finally got the courage to write it down. I'm actually pretty proud of it, even though some parts aren't exactly what I wanted. But the majority of it makes me feel pretty good about this :).
Anyways, I hope you enjoy this. It took me forever to write, and I tried to make it as historically accurate as I could. I'm not sure if I succeeded, so if not, then just go with it anyways, lol.
Warning: This is rated for swearing, mentions of rape, and slight Germancest. No likey, no read.
Disclaimer: "Hetalia" doesn't belong to me. :(
May 8, 1945
Dear Diary,
Today was not awesome. I was dissolved as a nation, taken prisoner by Russia, and separated from West indefinitely. I've been in Ivan's house for a total of three hours, and I already hate it. It's cold here, and those stupid Baltics keep looking at me in pity. Like I need their pity, like I need anyone's pity! I am the awesome Prussia, I don't care what those stupid Allies say!
Ivan's creepy little sister keeps glaring at me from the hallway. I'm sitting in the living room, writing this by the fire. I found an empty notebook earlier, and Toris said I could have it. It's still kinda hard to write with my arm in a cast, and vision is still a little blurry, even though my eye is healing. It's been… difficult and my… situation, as West would call it, isn't helping any. At least Gilbird is here with me… though I think the cold makes him sleepy. It could be a little of my fault too. Ever since the meeting, I've been more tired than usual, and the little guy is sensitive to things like that.
Well, I'd better get to bed. Apparently, I have work to do tomorrow…
The Awesome Prussia
000000000000000
May 10, 1945
Dear Diary,
This is the first time I've ever missed a day in writing in any of my diaries… I feel as though I've lost a little part of myself because of it; how will I know what I did yesterday in the future?
I suppose that recounting what happened yesterday in today's journal would be sufficient, but I still feel odd…
Yesterday I began work for Russia. He had me up at the crack of dawn, and I went to his office with him. I basically ran paperwork to and from him and his boss all day, which I wouldn't have a had a problem with except that he kept giving me this creepy smile. His boss practically threw the forms at me, and many of his other employees kept trying to trip me up and down the hall. Who the hell do they think they are? No one should humiliate me! I am Gilbert Beilschmidt! I deserve more respect than those low-lives are giving me!
I made a nest for Gilbird this morning. Toris gave me some extra bedding, so I'm working on making a scarf for him too, so the poor guy can stay warm. I nearly froze in my room the other night; doesn't the fat bastard keep the heat on in this fucking house?
Today I was allowed to stay home at the house. Toris showed me around and Ravis and Eduard told me how to behave when Ivan's around. Fuck them; I'll behave any way I want whenever I want. Natalia keeps glaring at me too… She's just as fucking creepy as her bastard brother.
Time to go. I hear footsteps in the hall heading this way.
The Awesome Prussia
000000000000000
May 17, 1945
Dear Diary,
I don't like not being able to chronicle my life every day like I used to. But Ivan's kept me so busy that I've barely had time to sleep, let alone write. At the moment, I'm huddled under the covers, a tiny flashlight clenched between my teeth as I write this.
I've been going to work with Ivan all week and basically being his errand boy. I hate this… Half the time, I don't even know where to go, let alone who to talk to… Toris says to just give it time; eventually I'll learn. But his office is so huge, and there're so many rooms… His house is just as bad; I got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and ended up wandering the halls, trying to find the stupid place. I found the fat bastard's room, though… he actually sleeps, who'd have thought?
I did overhear Ivan on the phone with Arthur a few days ago, though. From what I could gather, West is doing fine; Kiku's still in the hospital, and Feliciano and his brother have been hiding in their house since the war ended, which really doesn't surprise me.
I hope I get to see West soon… I want to see with my own eyes that he's okay.
The Awesome Prussia
000000000000000
May 21, 1945
Dear Diary,
I saw West today! He looks well enough; his head is still bandaged and he's still on crutches, but he was smiling, so that's a good thing. We didn't get to talk long; he was just stopping by to drop off some paperwork for Ivan; Alfred was with him. I was able to talk with bruder while the fatso and the bastard discussed something in the other room.
I'll admit, I was worried about him. I don't like the idea of anyone else looking after him. I let Roddy do that with Caesar, and look what happened; the little guy was killed in battle because he had traipsed around eating cakes and falling in love instead of training for war like he should have.
But I guess Alfred is doing an okay job… at least West has someone he can talk to that won't hold a grudge….
I finished the scarf for Gilbird the other day, and he seems to be doing better already. Eduard gave me some birdseed for him, and he seems to like it. Ivan won't let me have beer or wurst, so I feel bad that the little guy isn't getting his favorite meal… it doesn't seem fair that he has to be punished for my crime as well… but I'm glad he's here. It makes me feel less alone (Not that being alone isn't awesome!)
Katyusha arrived at the house today too, and she seems to have captured the attention of Ivan, at least for now. I've been left pretty much alone since I've gotten here, which I'm okay with. The less time the bastard has for me, the better.
Always Awesome,
Prussia
000000000000000
May 31, 1945
Dear Diary,
My cast came off yesterday, though I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. Ivan's been working me non-stop, and I found out some very disturbing news.
I am now forbidden to see West.
I guess those stupid Allies heard about our little "meeting" and disapproved (Francis was probably freaking out, and I'll bet my Iron Cross that he was the one behind this), so now I can't see him anymore.
Like I'll let that stop me. I'm still awesome, so I can do anything.
Toris was limping today. When I asked him about it, he shrugged it off, saying that he had just tripped going to the bathroom last night… I have a hard time believing that. He got all red and changed the subject as soon as he could.
For the short time that I've been here, I feel like he's the only one I can actually talk to about shit… and I was kinda hoping that he felt the same, but I guess not. I don't think he forgave me for what happened with Poland all those years ago…
I don't like the food here. I want wurst and beer. Ivan's been serving us nothing but crappy food and vodka… and though I'm excited about the alcohol, vodka is disgusting. This shit that he's serving us is not food… I'm not sure what it is, but it tastes like crap.
The Awesome Prussia
000000000000000
June 15, 1945
Dear Diary,
Well, I've been here over a month… and I can safely say that I hate it here. I want the comfort of my huge bed in my own house where I know where everything is and where I have people to do shit for me…
I miss West.
I tried to sneak out to see him a few times, but every time, Natalia was lurking around, so I didn't dare try to risk it. I don't really care what happens to me, but if I get West in trouble, I don't think I could ever forgive myself.
On the upside, Elizabeta came to the house today. She looks okay, though it's obvious that the war had been harder on her than she let on. She hugged me when she saw me, which came as a surprise. We spent the rest of the evening catching up; she told me all about how West was doing, which made me feel both better that he's okay, and a little sad.
Even though her being here is heartbreaking (She was never meant to be tied down), I'm glad that I now have a friend with me. Gilbird is great, but he doesn't really talk back…
Ivan's still a douche.
A little bit more Awesome,
Prussia
000000000000000
July 23, 1945
Dear Diary,
I'm in deep shit.
I snuck out to see West last night; Liza said she'd cover for me. But I guess Natalia found out somehow and told Ivan. He came all the way to West's house and barged in our conversation. He grabbed me and dragged me all the way back to Russia; he's got a few scratches on that ugly mug of his.
I hope West doesn't get into too much trouble…. Though I haven't seen Elizabeta or Ivan since I was forced back in this artic hell, which worries me a little. Toris and his "brothers" have disappeared into their room, and Katyusha has been hurrying around the house, doing what, I'm not sure. Natalia's been sneering at me since I got back.
Ivan didn't say anything to me on the way back; not that I gave him a lot of chances to, but that's never stopped him before. I'm getting…. Anxious. If Ivan's gonna do anything about my visit with West, I want it to happen now. I never liked waiting around and –
000000000000000
July 24, 1945
For the first time in my life, I don't know what to do. Last night, Ivan… Ivan hurt Elizabeta. He hurt her, cut her, and took her… and now she's just sitting in her room, staring out the window. Ivan's strutting up and the halls with a creepy smile on his face; it makes me sick. I've never seen Liza like this; not even Roddy treated her this way when she was married to him. I mean, we've all taken our share after a war; I know that better than anyone with all the vital regions that I've invaded. But the way that Ivan…
Gott, this is terrible. I've never heard Liza scream like that, and the look on her face when I ran into the room… I don't think I'll ever forget that. The image is burned into my mind…
Ivan still hasn't done anything about the other night to me, but I have a feeling that what he did to Liza was enough. Not only did he hurt her, but he hurt me too…
… What do I do?
A little less Awesome,
Prussia
000000000000000
August 3, 1945
Dear Diary,
I found out that West was let off easy from when I visited, which makes me feel loads better, even if Elizabeta still hasn't said a word. I've been spending all my free time with her, trying to get her to eat, but nothing I've done seems to be working. I'm getting worried about her, but Toris says not to be…
He's been great, Toris has. Whenever I get dragged to work with the bastard and can't keep an eye on her, he makes sure that she's okay. He's kept Ivan away from her too.
I wish there was something else I could do, but I'm limited in this hell hole.
Prussia
000000000000000
August 19, 1945
Dear Diary,
Has my life become that mundane that I really have nothing to say anymore? I just do the same thing every day, the same routine. I get up, take a shower and brush my teeth, check on Liza, grab breakfast from Toris and try to get my friend to eat, go to work with the bastard, try not to upset the stupid monster more, run around all day, come back from the office, eat dinner at the stupid huge table with everyone else, and then spend the rest of the night with Elizabeta. Usually I just try to talk with her, but she's become a lot like Gilbird; she never responds. No, she's worse. At least Gilbird lets me know that he's listening, even if he can't respond. Elizabeta just sits there, unseeing.
Ivan never said anything about West or her, but every time he looks at me, he has this smug look on his face that gets my blood boiling. I'll never forgive him for what he did to Elizabeta…
Toris told me that he heard from Feliks that West is almost completely healed. I guess he still uses his crutches when he's going to be walking around anywhere besides the house, just for support, which is good.
Nothing exciting to report. Same thing every day, nothing changes. I'll let you know when something big goes down…
Not really sure how awesome I am anymore,
Prussia
000000000000000
September 16, 1945
Dear Diary,
Toris finally talked to me today.
I mean, really talked. He was walking funny again, and when he was cooking dinner when Ivan and I got home, nearly collapsed. Luckily, I had come into the kitchen for some water when it happened, and caught him before he hit the ground. I helped him sit down for a moment, and when I stepped back to get him a glass of water, I noticed my hands were wet and red… He was bleeding through his shirt.
I didn't really know what to do, so I helped him out of his shirt and sent him upstairs to wash up and change real quick while I finished dinner. He came back down and we acted like nothing had happened.
A few hours later, while I was getting ready for bed after tucking in Liza, Toris knocked on my door. When I brought him inside and sat him on my bed, he slowly took his shirt off, revealing dozens of criss-crossing scars, red and raw and bleeding. The skin was inflamed and looked painful. I got some water and alcohol and gauze, and while I cleaned and dressed his back, he told me all about it.
He told me how Ivan beats him and… and rapes him. I just listened, not really knowing what to say… Halfway through the gruesome stories, he started crying…
I finished his dressings and was getting up to put everything away when he grabbed my arm. He… he thanked me. He thanked me for helping him, and for being there…
I've never been thanked before, so I didn't know how to react. I… I actually blushed, told him it was no big deal. After all, I kinda owed it to him after our history together. He's a good guy; to bad it took me until NOW to realize this.
Better late than never, ja?
Feeling a little more awesome,
Prussia
000000000000000
October 3, 1955
Dear Diary,
Today is West's birthday… I hope he's okay. I'd send him a gift, but I know it'll never reach him. If we were together today, I'd treat him to a beer, make him my famous wurst.
I hope somebody remembered…
Happy birthday, mein bruder.
Prussia
000000000000000
October 21, 1945
Dear Diary,
It's been over a month since my last entry, and I'm sorry to report that nothing has happened since then. Liza's still the same, Ivan's still a bastard, and Natalia gets creepier every day.
The only thing that's different is that Toris and I have become close. He's great to talk to, and is pretty smart. I feel like he's the only friend I have in this hell hole.
In other news, I've been here for almost six months and I still hate it. I miss West; hell, I even miss Roderich. I wish I could just talk to them, even for a few seconds. It'd be better than nothing at all.
Trying to be awesome,
Prussia
000000000000000
December 23, 1945
Dear Diary,
I officially hate Christmas. Ivan does it all wrong, and I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I want to go home and have a beer with West, fight over the last wurst, and see his face on Christmas morning, eyes bright when Feli comes over and gives him a kiss under the mistletoe.
I want to go out drinking with Antonio and Francis, who I haven't seen since the end of the war. I want to have a drinking contest and laugh when Tonio falls on his face trying to dance.
I want to barge in on Roderich in the early morning and interrupt his piano playing, then get smashed in the head by Elizabeta's frying pan.
I want everything to be like the good old days.
It doesn't help that Ivan's been getting ready for his birthday next week. Toris cays that it's usually a quiet affair, and that we should just lie low. I guess the bastard drinks a ton of vodka…
Stupid bastard.
Prussia
000000000000000
January 13, 1946
Dear Diary,
Happy New Year, I guess. Though I'm not really sure why it'd be happy. Liza's still the same, and I haven't seen or heard from anyone else besides Toris in months. I hope West is okay…
Ivan's a dick, as always.
Prussia
000000000000000
January 18, 1946
Dear Diary,
Today's my birthday.
At least, I think I still get a birthday. Not being a nation anymore, I'm not really sure what this means. Will I age like a human now? Do I even get another year older? Or is this just some a time clock? A reminder that I'm not even supposed to be here, but still am? (Which brings the question: How can I still be here?)
Chronicling this as the worst birthday ever,
Prussia
000000000000000
February 16, 1946
Dear Diary,
Arthur dropped by today. "Official business" he said, before he and Ivan disappeared in the bastard's study for a few hours. Before he left, I tried to ask him how West was, but he only glared at me, and left without a word.
Does no one realize what a horrible person Ivan is? Are they so blind by hate for me that they're willing to turn a blind eye to the wrongs that are being committed right under their noses?
I don't really care about myself, but Elizabeta's not doing well. She's thin, frail looking, and needs serious help. Nothing I do is helping. West needs help rebuilding his life after what that bastard of a leader did to him, and the Italies need a swift kick in the ass; sure, they may have changed sides, but they were just as guilty as the rest of us. Kiku… Gott, I don't even know if he's made it out of the hospital yet.
Hell, poor Toris needs to just leave; he's suffered the most under Ivan, and he wasn't even a major part of this war; don't punish him, too.
Hoping everything is alright,
Prussia
P.S. It's Toris' birthday today… He had to spend it with Ivan, and I haven't seen him all day. I'm beginning to get worried.
000000000000000
April 14, 1946
Dear Diary,
Toris told me some great news today. He talked to Poland, and he said that West is doing fine; he's completely healed, and even returned to work a few weeks ago. Roddy doing well, too, which I guess is a good thing.
Elizabeta started eating again the other day, though it wasn't much. It's still wonderful, compared to the plates that she normally just refused. At least it was some soup and water. I was so happy.
Ivan can suck my five meters.
Prussia
000000000000000
May 12, 1946
Dear Diary,
Well, I've officially been here a year, and it still sucks. Is this my life now? Am I doomed to live out the remainder of whatever life I have here, completely cut off from the rest of the world?
I feel like I've missed so much…
Prussia
P.S. My eye is now completely healed… good for me…
000000000000000
July 6, 1946
Dear Diary,
Elizabeta keeps getting better every day, which is a good thing. She's eating more, and today, asked what day it was. I was ecstatic. She hasn't said anything else since then, but at least it's something.
Feeling a little better,
Prussia
000000000000000
August 8, 1946
Dear Dairy,
Elizabeta came back completely to us today. She's no longer the catatonic woman who was here these past months; she smiled at me, and told me not to worry over he anymore. She's strong and can take care of herself now; I did what I could, now she'll take care of the rest. This is good; it means that Ivan didn't completely break her. She just needed time to sort through her thoughts and life.
I'm glad that she's back.
Still as awesome as always,
Prussia
000000000000000
October 3, 1946
Dear Diary,
Happy Birthday, West. Hope it's okay. You know I'd be there if I could…
Prussia
000000000000000
December 21, 1946
Dear Diary,
I had some beer today; it was a nice change from that dumb vodka Ivan's got us all drinking.
Prussia
000000000000000
February 14, 1947
Dear Diary,
Saw West on TV today. He looks good. He was smiling… I'm glad he's doing well.
Prussia
000000000000000
June 4, 1947
Why is it so cold here, even in the summer? Poor Gilbird can barely fly outside… it pains me to see him cooped up in here…
Prussia
000000000000000
September 11, 1947
I'm going crazy… The same thing, day in and day out…. Nothing ever changes… I hope West is doing okay.
000000000000000
November 3, 1947
Antonio visited today. I was so happy to see him; he's doing well. He said that Lovino and Feliciano have come out of hiding. That's good. It means that West will have someone to talk to. I guess Kiku is up and about now too.
Francis is still bitter… which I can get. He's always been one to hold a grudge. Either way, I'm just glad that Tonio stopped by, letting me know what's going on in the world. He even warmed the place up for a few hours.
I guess I'm not forgotten just yet…
Prussia
000000000000000
January 1, 1948
It's the New Year… but it's not happy…
Prussia
000000000000000
January 18, 1948
Another birthday, I guess… Toris got me a new pen.
Prussia
000000000000000
March 28, 1948
Life goes on… same old, same old. I don't have the energy to write much anymore, especially since the days are all blurring together. I'll write again if anything happens, but for now, so long.
Until next time,
Prussia
000000000000000
September 8, 1949
Ivan's involved in what they call a "Cold War." I guess it means there's no fighting, just animosity between him and other countries…
Whatever kills the bastard's pride.
Still nothing to report.
Prussia
000000000000000
March 5, 1953
I can't believe it's been almost four years since I last wrote… But nothing has happened. Ivan's still oppressing, Natalia's a creep, Liza's back to her old self, and Toris is Toris. I'm… still here…
Ivan's ruler died today; Stalin was his name. Good riddance; maybe I can finally go home, or at least see West. Gott, I miss him… Hell, I even miss Roderich…
Prussia
000000000000000
August 13, 1954,
Ivan hurt Liza again… except that this time, Liza's furious. She put up a good fight, but it only made it worse. The bastard took her downstairs for a few days. When she came back up, she was severely beaten to the point that I scarcely recognized her… Toris gave her something for the pain that knocked her out… I'll stay here until she wakes.
Prussia
000000000000000
August 20, 1954
It was Toris…. And this time, he was downstairs for an entire week… Liza's still recovering, and now Toris needs help… I feel terrible, because I can't be with them both at the same time, all the time…. I'm tired, so tired, and I'm trying to do everything I can for them, but…
Gott… Please help…
Prussia
000000000000000
September 30, 1954
Both Liza and Toris are getting better. I keep watching Ivan, trying to figure out if he'll do anything, but he seems distracted… I guess Poland's giving Russia some trouble.
All the better to keep him away from us.
Prussia
000000000000000
October 4, 1954
Ivan took Liza again… She put one hell of a fight, but it's been two weeks and she hasn't come up from the basement… I'm getting worried…
Toris is still recovering, and I've been forbidden to see him. But I help every night after Ivan goes to bed. I'd try to get into the basement, but the door is locked, and the lock is too complicated for me to pick.
I hope Elizabeta's okay.
Prussia
000000000000000
December 10, 1954
Beatings have become a regular occurrence now. No one is safe, and everyone in the house is suffering, even Natalia. Poor Liza and Toris get the worst of it… I've been slammed by that pipe too many times to count now.
Why can't the rest of the world see what's going on? Do they even know?
Praying…
Prussia
000000000000000
December 21, 1955
Liza's planning something. I'm not sure what, but she's got that look on her face and that sparkle in her eyes that I remember from our childhood. I hate to say it, but she gives me hope.
Prussia
000000000000000
January 1, 1955
Dear Diary,
Nothing has happened since the last time I wrote you. Liza's gaining strength…
Prussia
000000000000000
February 2, 1956
Dear Dairy,
Ivan cornered Toris last week and I haven't seen him since. Liza and I are worried; I know it sounds in bad taste, but I'm glad I'm not the only one to worry about this anymore. When Liza was… you know… and Toris was… spending time with Ivan, I was all alone. Sure, Ravis and Eduard were there, but usually keep their distance. Natalia's sure not gonna lift a finger, and Katyusha's no help.
I hate this…
Prussia
000000000000000
March 17, 1956
Dear Diary,
Elizabeta won't let me help with whatever she's planning. I'm frustrated; I wanna help! I want to kick Ivan in the ass, to show that just because I'm not a nation any longer doesn't mean that I can't do anything. I want to get my hands dirty, to feel his giant nose crush under my fist…
I feel like she's leaving me out on purpose… I was the one who nursed her back to health, the least she could do is let me help!
Prussia
000000000000000
May 29, 1956
Dear Dairy,
I've been thinking lately. I don't think I should go by "Prussia" any longer. After all, Prussia is gone. Why live in the past when all it's gonna do is cause me pain? I think about all the things I used to be, and I know that I'll never have that again. I haven't used my human name in decades, but… well, since I'm human now, I figured that I should probably start. After all, what's the use of hanging onto something that only causes you pain?
Elizabeta's still refusing to tell me what she's planning.
Here's Prussia, for the last time.
000000000000000
August 18, 1956
Dear Diary,
Alfred came by today. He… acted like I wasn't even there. Is this what my life is going to be from now on? Is that why Liza won't let me help? Is that why, despite everything that happens, Toris can't look me in the eye, not even once? I'm pretty much left alone here… the only person who really acknowledges my presence is Ivan, but that's when he takes me to the office. When we're not at the office, it's like I don't exist.
Does the rest of the world act the same way? Am I just a part of history now, written down in the books and not talked about? Does West remember me?
I don't think I'd be able to handle it if everyone forgot about me…
Gilbert
000000000000000
October 23, 1956
Dear Diary,
Liza started a revolution! I can't believe it! She stormed up to Ivan today and smacked him with her frying pan and told him to go to hell! I couldn't believe it! He had no idea what to do! Natalia wasn't happy, but one look from Elizabeta sent the bitch back to her seat! Kesesese! I've never seen Ivan look like that before! It was wonderful!
I hope she lets me help now! Her and I could take down this bastard like there's no tomorrow! It'll be just like the old days!
The awesome Gilbert!
000000000000000
November 10, 1956
Dear Diary,
Well, Liza did it… she broke from Ivan, with no help from me. She made his life a living hell, that he eventually just got tired and gave in.
She left a few hours ago… didn't even say goodbye. Just walked right out the front door and didn't look back…
Does our friendship mean that little to her? I helped her when she was at her lowest, and she doesn't even have the grace to say goodbye? No acknowledgement…
And now I'm alone… again…
Gilbert
000000000000000
December 22, 1956
Dear Diary,
Fuck this. Fuck everyone and everything. I'm leaving. I am going to spend Christmas with West, and no one will stop me. Ivan can go fuck himself. Toris can fuck Natalia, since apparently that's what he's been doing for the past two weeks anyways.
Fuck it all. I'm leaving this godforsaken place. Have a nice life.
Gilbert
000000000000000
December 27, 1956
Shit… Shit, shit, SHIT! I'm such a dumbass! I can't believe I did this! Fuck, shit!
I made it all the way to Germany before Ivan caught me. I have no idea how the fuck he found me, but he hit me so hard, I passed out. The next thing I knew, I was back in the house, locked in my room. I haven't seen or heard anything for days, and I've had nothing to eat…
Fuck! If he hurts Toris or West, I'll –
000000000000000
January 18, 1957
Happy Birthday to me… Happy Birthday to me… I'm Ivan's new plaything… Happy Birthday to me…
000000000000000
February 25, 1957
Dear Diary,
I've sneaked out four times since last month. And every time, Ivan drags me back. He keeps smacking me with that damn pipe, and I've now got a broken wrist.
But I'm sick and tired of living here, and I want to go home. Now with Elizabeta out of the picture, and Toris safe with Natalia, there's nothing stopping me. He can't hurt West since Alfred and Arthur have him under their control, so I'm going for it. Fuck him.
Gilbert
000000000000000
April 1, 1957
I keep trying to see West, but none of my plans are working. I guess I'll have to think outside the box…
Gilbert
000000000000000
July 25, 1957
Still no luck on "Operation: See West." I'll let you know when something happens.
Gilbert
000000000000000
November 29, 1957
Ivan's taken to locking me in my room. Too bad he forgot about the window…
Gilbert
000000000000000
December 24, 1957
I finally saw West! I even got to spend all night with him!
Gott, he's doing so well! We talked all night, and he told me everything that's happening. Everyone is doing great! I'm so happy! He's as strong as ever, and it doesn't seem as though this war had any effect on his spirit.
Gott, it was so good to see him again… We've made up a schedule to meet once a month to catch up at this little pub just inside Germany. It'll have to be at night, of course, but I can manage. West basically has free reign, so he won't have any trouble. Ivan hasn't figured out about the window yet, so I'm safe. I haven't told anyone about it…
This has been the best Christmas in years… Thank you, Gott… Thank you…
Merry Christmas,
Gilbert
000000000000000
January 18, 1958
Dear Diary,
Saw West again last night. He remembered my birthday, which, I'll admit, surprised me a little. I honestly didn't think that he'd remember, especially when I myself forgot. That's how my life has been lately; I've been forgetting things, little by little. Not big things, like who I am or where I am or why I'm here, but smaller things. My birthday, for one. And yesterday, when I was walking to the pub to meet with West, I realized that I was in Berlin, and didn't even know it… I… I didn't even recognize it. Gott, I hope this doesn't keep up.
Anyways, West bought me a new scarf, since the one I have now is all ripped up. He even got a matching one for Gilbird, and he also gave me a six pack of my favorite beer. It's the best present I've gotten in a long while. Hell, it's the best present I've gotten ever. I could really care less about the gifts, but its more about the fact that I actually got something that I really wanted for what feels like the first time in my life; West gave me reassurance that I'm not alone. That no matter what happens, he'll always remember who I am, and he still cares about me.
That's more than I could have hoped for.
Happy Birthday, me. It's the first happy one I've had since I've been in this place.
Gilbert
000000000000000
February 21, 1958
Dear Diary,
West and I hung out the other night, but it was cut short. Apparently, he's living with Feli now, and that stupid brat called him in the middle of our dinner crying about something stupid.
I was kinda pissed, but let him go. The look on his face was kinda sad, but he seemed grateful when I told him to go. I have to remember that West's still got duties to attend to. While I really don't have a job anymore, he's still a nation, and has responsibilities, whether or not their for his country or for himself. If he's living with Feliciano, then good for him. He deserves to happy after all that's happened, whether or not I'm in the picture. At least he won't be alone any longer.
Gilbert
000000000000000
March 12, 1958
Dear Diary,
These monthly meetings with West are awesome. I love being able to see him, and I actually get good, German food. I had wurst and beer, and it tasted so good… I almost forgot how amazing they were.
Ivan still doesn't suspect a thing, which is good. I haven't told Toris about it, because now that he's banging Natalia, I'm having a hard time trusting him. It's not that I think he'll come outright and tell her; I'm more afraid of him saying something in the heat of the moment. That, and this way, he's protected. If Ivan or Natalia begin to suspect, and question him, he won't know a thing, and won't get into trouble. I'm the only one at risk.
But these meetings with West are worth it.
Gilbert
000000000000000
April 7, 1958
Dear Diary,
West couldn't come tonight. I got to the pub, and the bartender told me that he had a message from him. Guess he got held up at work. I'm not mad, just kinda disappointed. I really look forward to these meetings. I don't get out much, except for these monthly nights.
So I trudged back to the bastard's house, and now I'm just sitting here. My life has becoming nothing but boring once more. I need something to spice it up… maybe I can antagonize Ivan. It may not be the smartest thing to do, but since when have I ever listened to the scholars? I'm a man of action. That's what got me into this situation in the first place, is it not?
Time to raise some hell.
Gilbert
000000000000000
April 30, 1958
Dear Diary,
I opened all the window's in the house last night. Started a fire in my own room's fire place. Seems like Ivan's not entirely used to this cold as he pretends to be. He wasn't happy either. Stormed up and down the halls like a madman. He had no idea that it was me. No one knows, but I'm sitting here laughing my ass off. This is just too funny. The stupid bastard's face was priceless!
Still awesome,
Gilbert
000000000000000
June 2, 1958
Dear Diary,
Apparently, I'm alone in this freaking house. Someone, I don't know who, told Ivan about how I "rearranged" his bookshelf, and I spent the week locked in my room with no food. No one came to sneak me up snacks, check on me, all that jazz, even though I do it for fucking everyone else in this hell hole. I really thought that Gilbird wasn't gonna make it… I'm not sure what to do. I thought that we were all in this together, but looks like I don't matter anymore. Prussia's gone, but Gilbert's still here. Guess they have to find a way to get rid of him too. Well, fuck all of them. They can suck my dick.
Gilbert
000000000000000
July 4, 1958
Dear Diary,
Ivan went to America to celebrate the fatso's birthday. He'll be home tomorrow, but I took this opportunity to see West. I went all the way to his house last night, only to find out that he was also at America's party. Seems that everyone is there… Hell, I got back to Ivan's house and noticed that the only people there were some of his human servants.
I spent the previous few hours wandering around, trying to figure things out. Everyone is at America's party… which means that I'm not. And since everyone at the party is a nation, I am no longer a nation. But these things I already knew. I guess it's just shocking. I mean, there's been loads of world meetings since the end of the war, but I guess this is the first time that it's hit me. I'm not there, because I'm not a nation. I'm just… hell, I don't even know what I am anymore. I'm not human, but I'm not a nation. So… what am I?
I walked around Berlin, and went to where my old castle used to be. I say used to, because now it's nothing but ruins. Hell, I didn't even know where it was for the first few minutes. The only reason I found it was because of the monument I made to Fritz after he died.
Old Fritz, what do you think of me now? The once great empire you built up is no more…. I've failed you, on so many levels.
Please watch over me, even though I don't deserve it.
Gilbert
000000000000000
September 19, 1958
Dear Diary,
Saw West yesterday, though it was only in passing. I was at Ivan's office, shuffling papers in the front, when he walked through the front doors. When he saw me, he stopped, surprised. I was so happy, I shouted out to him, but he acted like I was just another person and continued up to Ivan's office. I was shocked, until I realized that we weren't supposed to talk to each other, let alone see each other.
I still can't help the sting I felt, though. My own brother…
Gott, this is so messed up…
000000000000000
October 3, 1958
Dear Diary,
Today is West's birthday. We met at the pub last night, but… I couldn't give him anything. I have no money, nothing to trade that anyone would want. I couldn't even buy him a beer…
He told me not worry about it, that he understands. But I could see the disappointment behind his eyes. It's almost that he's ashamed of me… and I don't think that I can take that…
Gilbert
000000000000000
December 4, 1958
Dear Diary,
I'm not going to write about my pathetic excuse for existence any longer. I'm going to make sure that Ivan's life is as miserable as mine is. At least this way, I can share my anger and frustration and hate with that smug bastard.
Meetings with West may not happen much anymore. He's busy with Feli and other things, and I'm not sure how Ivan's gonna react to my "insubordination," so we'll see. Writing in this diary may not happen much, either.
Gott, this diary has been amazing. I'm so glad that I found it before I was forced to come here.
Thank you…
Gilbert
000000000000000
September 12, 1961
Dear Diary,
I can only say that I'm glad that Ivan has locked me in my room instead of somewhere else, because I can finally write down what's happened. It's been years since I last wrote, but I'm glad to see that this old book has survived and is still kicking.
Since I last wrote, I've played numerous pranks on Ivan, seen West only a few times, and been an awesome nuisance in everyone's ass. I think the entire world is tired of Gilbert Beilschmidt, which is a good thing. Prussia may be gone, but Gil's still here!
I've also given away Gilbird. The little guy doesn't need the storm that's coming, so I sent him with specific instructions on how to take care of him to Kiku. He's well enough now, and little guy loves him. Gilbird will like Japan. He has plenty of space to fly around.
However, I may have taken things to far. I dumped all of Ivan's vodka down the toilet… and I think this is the calm before the storm. I've never seen him so angry. I've got the bruises to prove it, too.
Nothing left now but to wait and see.
Gilbert
000000000000000
August 13, 1961
Dear Diary,
Well, I did it. I officially pissed the world off enough for them to finally do something about it.
They're building a wall between me and West.
Guess Ivan found out about our visits, which, though they weren't many, they were still forbidden. So, to try to enforce their rule, they're constructing what they call, "The Berlin Wall."
It's just a simple wire fence, but the statement that it makes is clear.
Basically, I'm officially fucked.
I've been pretty much left alone the past month. Toris has brought me food, but I've been locked in my room.
It's only a matter of time before Ivan takes matters into his own hands.
Waiting,
Gilbert
000000000000000
September 1, 1961
At least, I think it is…
I've finally seen what Elizabeta and Toris have seen; I've been in the basement.
Actually, I haven't left the basement. I've been in here for what I've counted as thirteen days. I saw the fence when Ivan was dragging me down here, and on the other side, I'm sure I saw West. I hope he's okay.
Ivan hasn't done anything to me yet, except leave me down here. I'm anxious to know what he's going to do to me.
I was able to grab this diary as he was dragging me down here, and hid it under my shirt. It's dark down here, and in the wall behind the bed is a small brick that's loose. It's just big enough that I can fit the diary in it, and Ivan will be none the wiser.
I'm locked in a little cell, and its colder down here than ever. I'm in nothing but a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and the thin blanket on the bed doesn't help.
This could end up being extremely bad…
Gilbert
000000000000000
Sometime early October,
Dear Diary,
Ivan's beaten me bloody at least four times now. I've lost count on what day it is, I just know that it's early October judging by the amount of daylight and the smell…
Good Lord, I'm in trouble.
Gilbert
000000000000000
Not really sure what day it is…
Dear Diary,
It's been months since I last wrote, or it feels like it, at least. Ivan's shown no mercy. He comes down here, leaves with a little piece of me every time. I guess my egging him on doesn't help matters, but I'll never let him know how much pain I'm in. I'm stronger than that.
Gilbert
000000000000000
I've lost all sense of time. It could be years, but Ivan's made sure that the only human contact I've had is with him.
He's… Gott, he's…
No, I can get through this. I can survive this. He may hurt my body, but he'll never hurt my pride.
Gilbert
000000000000000
For as many times as I've invaded vital regions, I've always made sure that the other person was prepared, if not comfortable; the price to pay for losing a battle. But at least I wasn't completely heartless.
What Ivan's been doing to me is hardly humane. He starts off with that stupid pipe, and rams it up my…
And then he moves on…. By that time, I'm bleeding so much that it's slick enough so I…
Gott, it hurts…. I've never been in so much pain in my life. And he just leaves me on the ground when he's done… Bloody covered in…
But I won't scream. I won't let the bastard break me. I'm still me, and I refuse to let him get to me.
Gilbert
000000000000000
Toris brought me food today. It was just some soup and water, but it's more than I've been getting. I'm grateful. He told me about the wall a little, too. Guess they've put some barbed wire on the thing now. Some people from my side were trying to escape to West's side. Apparently, Ivan wasn't too keen on that.
Fuck him. My people may not be the strongest, but they're stubborn. I wouldn't expect some stupid fence to keep them away, not matter how high the damn thing is. I hope Ivan knows this.
Gilbert
000000000000000
Ivan's attacks are getting more vicious. He's ruthless, and won't let up. Fighting back seems to make it worse, but hell if I'm just going to stand here and let him take me without him knowing that it won't be easy.
I've never been one to give up.
Gilbert
000000000000000
It's hard to see down here… the light is dim, and the only time I can write is during the day when the sunlight seeps through the small window at the top of the cell. I've tried to climb on the bed to look out, but I'm not tall enough. I hear loud sounds all the time, as if Ivan's bringing in a construction crew. For what, I've got no idea. But if Ivan's planning it, then it can't be good.
Gilbert
000000000000000
Ivan's come down almost every day. The sunlight I get through the small window proves it… But I'm not sure how much longer I'm going last.
Gilbert
000000000000000
Toris paid me a visit today. Brought me some more water and soup. He also told me what Ivan's been planning. Guess my people kept crossing over that stupid fence, so Ivan decided to up the ante. He's building an actual wall… It's huge, and stretches as far as the eye can see…. Toris helped me look out the window.
I'm fucked.
With that wall, I'm completely cut off from the rest of the world. If there was even the remote possibility that someone would come and save me, this wall completely destroyed it. I'm now completely alone…
I hope West is doing better than I am…
Gilbert
000000000000000
Ivan broke me…
He took my will and everything else and finally broke me… It's not like it wasn't that hard, all these years of oppression, but I feel like I've let everything I've worked for is gone. Almost like it never mattered to begin with.
Hell, I'm not even sure who I am anymore.
000000000000000
I give up… Maybe, this way, everything will hurt less.
000000000000000
My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am Prussia.
000000000000000
The mantra went on for pages and pages, and Ludwig felt his hear constrict painfully. The pages were worn, as if the owner had read them over and over thousands of times. In a few places, the writing had what seemed to tears blurring it.
The German sighed and flipped back all the way to the beginning, paging through the worn diary once more, noticing the tear stains here and there. The way the sentences at the end of passages sometimes ended abruptly, as if the writer had been caught off guard and had to leave quickly made him wonder. Towards the end, where the mantra began, he could feel the way that the writer felt; alone, broken, and completely unhinged.
Ludwig ran a hand over his face. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom, back against his bed and facing the wall. He had adopted this position after discovering the diary in the folds of the bed, hours ago. Curious, he had opened the untitled book, shocked when he discovered its contents.
His brother had never told him exactly what had happened to him while he was under Ivan's rule. Even in their little meetings, however brief they were, Gilbert had always been more focused on Ludwig's well-being rather than his own. Ludwig had never really paid much attention to it before, until his brother had begun to look thinner and less healthy.
And now he knew why.
Now he knew why the older man had never spoken up before; the horrors his brother endured would have killed a lesser man. It was amazing how Gilbert was able to survive as long as he did.
"Yo, West! There you are! I've been looking for you for ages!" Came a familiar voice from the doorway behind him.
Caught in a rare moment of being off guard, Ludwig stumbled to get up, only realizing that he was still holding the diary in his hand. Having no where to hide the book, he opted to simply conceal it behind his back, hoping that his brother wouldn't notice.
It was a dim hope, he realized, when Gilbert's smirking face frowned. "What're you hiding?" he asked.
"Bruder," Ludwig said, passing the diary between his concealed hands. "I didn't think that you'd be back until later."
Gilbert's eyes narrowed as he stepped into the room. "Antonio and Francis had to leave. Something about a meeting with Arthur tomorrow…"
Ludwig edged around the bedm trying to reach the bathroom before his brother discovered what he was holding.
"Is that porn?"
The blonde blinked, then nodded frantically, hurrying towards the door. "Uh, ja! Ja!" he was never a man to miss an opportunity. He took another step to the bathroom. "You caught me, bruder. So, if you'll, ah, excuse me…."
Ludwig saw the smirk on Gilbert's face too late. The older man had crossed over the floor of the bedroom in a flash, and before he knew it, the tall blonde was on pinned against the wall.
"You're not holding out on me, are you, West?" the albino purred, soft lips brushing Ludwig's ear.
Despite his growing nervousness, Ludwig shivered in anticipation as Gilbert's hands began to wander over his body, sliding lower and lower. Gilbert's lips found his, and Ludwig accepted eagerly, instantly darting his tongue out to rub against his brother's pale lips, begging for entrance. Gilbert easily complied, and their tongues swirling around each other. Gilbert moaned into the kiss, and Ludwig felt a bit of pride in knowing that the older man was reacting to him.
However, the entire moment ended when Gilbert suddenly pulled back, a devilish grin on his face as he waved the book in front of his brother's face. Ludwig gaped, realizing that he had been fooled from the beginning; that it was a ploy just to get the book.
"You're too easy, West," the Prussian gloated, grin turning to smirk. Ludwig swallowed as he turned the book over his hands. "Now, let's see what you've been keeping from your elder brother."
Ludwig watched as Gilbert stopped spinning the book and looked down and froze. All the color drained from his already pale face and he stumbled back so that his back was against the wall. He looked up at Ludwig, red eyes wide.
"Where'd you get this?" he whispered.
Ludwig took a deep breath. "I was cleaning and found it…" he said quietly, never breaking eye contact with the other man.
Gilbert nodded and glanced down at the diary in his hands before his gaze returned to Ludwig. "Did you read it?" he asked, almost inaudibly.
The young German swallowed again and nodded silently, just once.
Gilbert let out a small, pained sound as he slid to the floor, legs splayed out in front of him as he simply stared at the diary. His brother watched him for a moment before striding over and sitting down next to him, their shoulders and legs touching. Neither said anything for a long while, one man trying to sort through his thoughts, the other trying to simply offer comfort.
"I never wanted anyone to know what happened behind that wall," Gilbert finally said, voice so quiet that Ludwig almost missed it. He opted to remain quiet. "For years, that man made my life a living hell, to the point that I was afraid that I'd forget who I was… Writing in this diary sometimes felt like it was the only thing keeping me sane."
Gilbert looked up at Ludwig, expression unreadable. "I felt like it was the only friend I had…"
The blonde nodded, knowing that what his brother said was true, especially after reading the contents of the journal.
"That may have been true then," Ludwig said quietly, and Gilbert let out a pained sound. "But not any more," he added, slinging his arm around Gilbert's shoulders and allowing the smaller man to lean up against his side. Gilbert didn't resist and gratefully laid his head on Ludwig's shoulder, fingers running over the spine of the diary. Ludwig watched his pale hands in silence before he took them in his own hand, lacing their fingers together.
The two brothers didn't know how long they sat like that, one giving comfort and the other receiving it, both staring at the worn book in Gilbert's hands.
"I don't want to get rid of it," Gilbert whispered. "I feel like I should, but every time I try, it doesn't feel right… It's like I'm throwing away a part of me, no matter how horrid it is…"
"Then don't," Ludwig told him. "It's the past. Over and done with. Do what you always do; put it on the shelf, learn from it, and move on."
"I've tried," the older man whispered, opening the journal and flipping to a random page, splaying his hand over the worn paper. "But… I just keep coming back to it. I want to forget, but I can't. It's like this journal is holding me down, but to get rid of it would be like getting rid of part of me… and I don't know how much more I can lose."
Ludwig sighed, and gently took the book from his brother. Gilbert watched him as he untangled himself from the older man and stood. He shut the journal and moved to the bookshelf in their room that housed many of Gilbert's other journals, setting the worn diary on the shelf with the others. He turned to face his brother, who was watching him curiously.
"There," he said, walking back to the other man and holding his hand out, a silent invitation to help him stand. Gilbert took the hand and allowed the German to pull him up. Ludwig bent down to capture the white-haired man's lips in his own. Gilbert kissed back hungrily, reaching up a hand to thread it in Ludwig's blonde hair. The two stood in the bedroom for a long while, completely lost in each other before pulling away to gasp for breath. Ludwig let his forehead rest against his brother's, eyes locked together.
"You don't have to lose anything else," Ludwig reassured him. Gilbert's red eyes bored into his blue ones. "But you must remember who you are, and what made you the person you are today."
Gilbert opened his mouth to say something, but Ludwig cut him off by kissing him again. "Just listen," he mumbled against the other's lips. Gilbert nodded. "You need to remember the bad times, because with them comes the good times. The times where you've smiled outweigh the times where you've frowned. And the times that you've laughed have more merit than the times that you've cried. So even though you have one little journal that records all the bad things, all the worse moments in your life, you've got thousands of other ones that talk of the best. And those are the ones that you need to focus on, and recall with fondness. That one journal is important, but not as important as those other ones."
The older man searched Ludwig's eyes desperately before finding no grain of lies in them, and allowed his head to fall and rest on the taller man's shoulder. Ludwig brought his arms up to wrap around him, holding him close.
"Why does it make so much more sense when you explain it?" Gilbert mumbled against Ludwig's shirt. The younger German smiled softly.
"Because you actually listen to me," he chuckled. Gilbert gave him a light punch on his back before wrapping his own arms around the taller man.
The two stood in silence for a few moments before Gilbert spoke. "So, I don't have to get rid of it?"
Ludwig shook his head and planted a soft kiss on Gilbert's head, silver hair ruffling his nose. "Not if you don't want to," he said.
"But I don't have to look at it, either?"
"Nope."
Gilbert sighed, pulling away, and walking to the bookshelf, where he picked up the journal that Ludwig had recently set down. He turned it over in his hands before looking back up at his brother, who simply watched him curiously. The pale man licked his lips and opened the journal, flipping through all the pages before closing it with a loud "snap!" He then threw the book on the ground and let it fall, striding back to Ludwig and reaching up and yanking the taller man down to kiss him roughly on the lips. Ludwig smiled into the kiss and grabbed Gilbert's ass, hoisting him into the air. The smaller man wrapped his skinny legs around Ludwig's waist and his arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.
As Ludwig maneuvered them to bed, he made sure to step over the diary lying facedown on the floor. He'd pick it up later and put back on the shelf, in plain view, but hidden in the shadows.
After all, Gilbert had made it clear which he had chosen. For even though he liked to live in the past, the present was far more important to him.
Ludwig couldn't agree more.
So there you have it. Something a little different, but entertaining all the same. I'm also pretty proud of myself, because writing in the first person perspective isn't my strong suit, so this was a great exercise for me to improve. Let me know what you think! Please be easy on the flames, though...