Me: Yo, Prussia!

Prussia: What?!

Me: Tell the people what's obvious.

Prussia: fine. But only because when I do it it will sound awesome.

Me: ...

Prussia: YO READERS! HEATHER DOES NOT OWN ANY ASPECT OF HETALIA, AND SHE DOESN'T OWN YOU! She doesn't own me, though I know she wants to.

Me: ...yeah. Thanks, Prussia.

Anyways, go ahead and read the story already. I've got a certain German male to deal with.

Prussia: Kesesese, you know what that means ;D

Me: *knocks on head* enjoy, loves~

CHAPTER 1

Gilbert Beilschmidt was bored. This world meeting had gone to the dumps, just as they usually did. No one could agree on ANYTHING, and nobody listened to other people's proposals. He wondered how the world was still in one piece after all these years.

"You bloody wanker! What if some of us are PERFECTLY FINE with the way our government works?!" Arthur had blown a fuse again, and was ranting at Alfred, who had been going off about democracy.

"How could you enjoy being bossed around by some prude?!" Alfred questioned, taking a chug from his soda.

"The Queen is not a prude! And we can manage it because we actually listen to what others are telling us!"

"What?"

Gilbert sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had REALLY been wanting to tell everyone something, but it wasn't going to happen now.

"Tired?" His younger brother, Ludwig asked through the clamor of arguing.

Gilbert nodded meekly. "Ja. Can we go now?"

"You're older," Ludwig chuckled. "You can do whatever you want."

Unbeknownst to his younger brother, Gilbert was very protective over him. He had raised the boy, and the bond he felt for him went beyond what one would think.

"Fine. But don't be calling me to drive your sorry butt home." Gilbert growled, but Ludwig saw right past it.

"Whatever, Gilbert. Go. Drink some beer."

"I will. And it will taste awesome especially not having mein younger bruder there to bother me!"

Ludwig sighed, "Go already."

Chuckling to himself, Gilbert got up and left the room. Nobody noticed him leaving, since they were all discussing copyright issues with China. He walked down the stairs to the entrance of France's house(who was hosting the meeting) and exited out the door, breathing in the heavy aroma of roses. It was beautiful, he had to admit, but he hated the colour red. It only served to remind him of his eyes, which he wasn't all to confident about. It, combined with his pale skin and even paler hair, made people stare. He didn't like it, and he didn't like the fact he was an albino. Sure, on the outside he seemed confident enough, but on the inside he was very insecure. He hid that with his egostatisical remarks.

He approached his car with the heavy thoughts weighing him down, and his problems only added to the pressure. He had never been so worried in his entire life. The car door opened with a low click, and he slipped into the drivers seat, feeling the cool leather welcome his rear. Within moments, he had started the car and was speeding away from the house filled with countries who knew nothing about problems. Nothing about whatever the hell he was going through.

Gilbert! Stop thinking these depressing thoughts! He scolded himself. You are the awesome Prussia, you can handle anything! There are some things not even awesomeness can handle... Suddenly deciding exactly where he wanted to go, he took a sharp right turn onto the freeway. He was going to Paris.

Paris was utterly boring when you're alone. Completely, utterly, horrifyingly boring, and there was nothing you could do about it. It wasn't YOUR fault that your ass boyfriend decided to take off, leaving you in a restaurant all by yourself. It wasn't YOUR fault that now you were lost, no where to go. The Eiffel tower held no interest whatsoever, especially with the fact that there were way too many happy couples around the damn place. Why did you always choose the shitty guys? Who knew, perhaps it was because you felt a sort of excitement with them, or maybe you just...you ran out of ideas. Either way, if he came back, he was going to get the worst bitch slap of his life. Like we're talking spit-flying, tear-inducing, beg for mercy bitch slap here. And then he would be skewered onto a pole with his guts ripped out, and you will personally hang him from the very tip of that tower sitting behind you, and let him taste the cold wind of loneliness. And boredom. You doubted there was much to do up there.

A shriek of brakes caught your attention, and you, along with most of the crowd, turned your head to watch a red Ferrari go streaking down the cobble-stone road. What the hell? People parted as fast as they could to let the car by, and the driver kept barreling down as if he knew they would move.

Which they did.

Kind of genius, if you think about it.

Women all began chattering quietly to each other, gasping at how reckless the driver was. Men simply stared as it dissapeared in the distance, drooling over the sound of the engine. You simply turned back to your own problems. Seriously, what kind of person just LEAVES their girlfriend in the middle of PARIS?!

Damn. He had passed the Eiffel tower. Oh well, he could just park right here and walk back. It should only be about ten minutes. Plus he could go out and strut his stuff.

Parking the car by a cute little restaurant, Gilbert ripped the keys out of the ignition and began his walk back to the weirdo tower. Honestly, he didn't understand what all the fuss was about. It was just a really tall building...still, Francis seemed pretty proud of it. May as well go take a look, right? He passed a group of women who were seated on a bench. They all stared. Some might be staring for his classical good looks, whereas others would be staring at the obvious.

Red eyes belong to the devil.

Still, he flashed them a flirtatious smile that had them blushing, and continued on down the street. There. The Eiffel tower stood there, legs wide open so the world can see it's junk. Or at least that's how he perceived it. Happy couples stood all around, cuddling on a bench, kissing against a building wall, or simply holding hands. It was kind of sickening to look at...as quick as a gun, two children booked past him, chasing each other. One was obviously a girl, but the male child didn't seem to care.

"IM GONNA CATCH YOU!" he shrieked.

"No way! I won't let you!" she yelled back, but tripped on a loose stone and fell to the ground. The boy ran after to help her up, wiping tears off her face. Prussia looked away. It all painfully reminded him of Elizaveta, which he was still sore over. He simply couldn't understand why she would go off and...change like she did. She completely shoved him out the door without so much as a 'good bye'. Now she was with that Roderich guy...Gilbert felt as if that guy knew of no love other than the kind he had for his piano.

He scanned the crowd before wading in, wanting to get to a bench as quickly as possible. He slices through the bouts of people like jelly, making him feel very much claustrophobic. He finally managed in making it to a wooden bench, which he promptly plopped in, ready to enjoy an hour of people watching. An extremely overweight man passed, he looked tired and a small boy followed him.

Divorced.

A lady who had way too much make up on sat next to Gilbert, making sure to flash him a ton of cleavage as she leaned down to pull something from her purse.

Low self-esteem.

An unhappy looking girl walked into a coffee shop, her (colour) hair slightly mussed from distress. Gilbert almost paid her no heed until she looked back at him, as if looking at the Eiffel tower, but instead locked eyes with his own. All time seemed to slow down, and even though there were people everywhere, cutting into their line of vision, they kept staring. He could see a light dust brush across her cheeks, and even though she was all the way across the street, he could feel the curiosity in her expression. She looked behind her, as if checking to see if he was looking at someone else, but then looked back. She smiled a bit, and Gilbert suddenly felt as if he wasn't in Paris anymore. Instead it was just him and her, sharing this unique moment that seemed to stretch forever. A muscle-y looking man came into the picture, and he grabbed her upper arm. She broke the eye contact to glare harshly up at him, and she said something that Gilbert couldn't hear. The man's shoulders shook like he was laughing, then he leaned down to kiss her. She widened her eyes, and when he pulled away she hissed something at him again. Whatever he said back must've put her over, for her hand coiled back like a snake, then ran across his face in the blink of an eye. The slap was heard throughout the whole street, and nearly everybody stopped what they were doing to look at the two. He was holding his cheek, fuming at the girl whereas she turned on her heel to walk in the opposite direction.

"and stay the FUCK away from me!" she growled, not noticing all the eyes that had witnessed the scene.

After a little debate, Gilbert stood up to follow the girl. He wanted to at least know her name...