Cold air was met with a breath of warm steam as Prussia exhaled softly. It was nights like these that he cherished, the sky a shade of black so deep that you felt like you were drowning among the endless stars and planets, a dark so simple and alone that in its presence it left you wondering at its gravity.
Shifting slightly so he could take in more of the breathless night, he stared into the heavens. Pinpricks of light and the cloudy brilliance of the Milky Way shone out into the hours before midnight, a raw beauty only found miles away from the cities. He'd have to remember to thank Canada again for letting him move in; it'd been far too long since Gilbert had seen such an amazing (and awesome) sight. Actually, the last time he had seen the sky reflect the universe perfectly, it had been with dear Fritz. And that had been centuries ago.
He slipped into a state of melancholy at the thought of his favorite ruler. Memories, dragged from the past at the mention of Old Man Fritz, shoved against his conscience and the old soldier let the times come flooding back. The Prussian reminisced in silence and the comfortable numbness of the air, underneath the gaping sky and pale constellations.
Endless battles flashed across his vision, automatically making the hair on his neck rise with tension. He had spent so much time as a Teutonic Knight, fighting for his lost country and killing with no heed in the name of God. Blood was spilled, battles won and defeats suffered. He could feel again the bite of a sword, dark red blossoming across his chest and the compelling need of letting go, giving up, darkness swallowing his vision like black clouds before a storm.
He remembered the sudden emptiness he felt as he stood alongside his brother at the announcement of Law #46, created by the Allied Control Council. The staggering feeling of absolute nothing had been more than enough to pale his already colorless face, singe a hold through his heart and leave his lungs empty of air. It was astounding to realize that centuries of time and years of happiness could be erased with signatures on paper. It was the pain, though, of losing his country, his land, his tie to humanity, that about killed him. It was the agony that stole at his thoughts and clawed at his heart, the cold that started as numbness and turned to ice, in which made him broken.
For years, he had been alone. His own brother had left him once he realized he had become unfixable, and made excuses to leave Prussia alone and locked away in his world of self-denial and hollowness. Not being able to stand it, he had left Germany's house and started traveling from place to place; never staying long enough to familiarize his surrounding or let the other countries find him. He knew he would only find emotions ranging from pity to contempt, and he knew that it was pointless to ask if he could stay anyway.
But he had proved him wrong.
It was a gray day, he remembered, with the promise of snow. He had been on the move for several months, with only Gilbird as company. His clothes had started to show the wear of travel, with frayed ends and little holes made bigger by day. He had been so, so tired of it all, a weariness set deep into his bones that had forced him to stop and rest on a random bench in a small town. Here, he noticed that the natives happened to speak French, although he could've sworn he had taken a plane over to America to escape the European countries' sneering faces. He knew he was a mess, too, but couldn't care less given the state he was in.
How long he stayed on that bench, he didn't know. He did remember, however, the exact moment in time when a friendly face came to stand in his company, talking in quiet tones and taking his hands gently, pulling him up and leading him down the road to a quaint, small house.
He remembered the warmth as he stepped into Canada's house, those careful fingers guiding him to the shower and the bliss of being clean in Gott knows how long, the next few days as Canada assessed his state and started piecing him back together, picking up the small, broken fragments and putting them back into place.
He remembered the first time he tasted Canada's pancakes, warm and sweet and sugary with hints of cinnamon and maple goodness.
Above all, he remembered the kindness that was shown to him, the comfort of being looked after, the love that was given to a person like him.
"Hey , you."
Startled, he flinched as arms wrapped around his middle, pulling him close. Lips brushed across the back of his neck, and before he could stop himself, he shivered.
"H-hey. That was so totally unawesome! How come you were so quiet?" he twisted around in the embrace to look at the man behind him.
"You looked like you were thinking of something important. I didn't want to ruin the moment." shrugging, Canada gazed back at him, a thoughtful expressing dawning on his features. "Was it important?"
"Kinda."
"Kinda?"
Sighing, Prussia turned his eyes back to the sky. "I was just…thinking of myself."
Laughing, Canada rested his chin against the top of his head. "When do you not?"
"Pft. Shuddap. I was thinking about my past…and when you found me. And now, I'm thinking about how it's gotten really, really cold outside and those pancakes of yours would go great with hot cocoa, and-"
"Fine, fine, I get it." Canada smacked him lightly across his cheek, making the Prussian grumble with indignation, before releasing him and starting back across the now frosted yard towards the house. Prussia watched him go, considering if fair payback would be a tackle into the ground. Deciding to let it go, he turned around and swept his eyes against the night air one last time.
"Canada? Matthew?"
Stopping by the edge of the porch, Canada cast his eyes towards the Prussian. "Yes, Gil?"
"I love you."
Smiling, Canada leaned against the steps up to the house. "Come here, silly."
Crunching the ice beneath his feet, Prussia complied, joining Canada where he stood.
"Does this mean I get food and hot cocoa?" he asked, returning the offered hug.
"Yes, it does."
"Yay!"
Kissing him lightly, Canada reached for his hand. Prussia murmured a quick prayer to Friz, thanking him for his beautiful blond, and followed his love into the house for the night.
Author's Notes :
First upload on this account, and is actually a song challenge.
watch?v=j7IVSLz7Dpo&feature=related
I can imagine Gilbert and Matthew living together, somewhere in Canada where there aren't many people so they can enjoy life in peace and quiet.
And i can also very much imagine that Gil is shorter than Matt.
hn.