(Super long A/N, don't have to read if you don't want to)

A/N: I'm so sorry for being so terribly inconsistent on Where School Sucks (advertizing)! I promise it will be uploaded soon!

So, this little piece of...whatever it is...is something that is the result of not wanting to write your Biology paper and therefore procrastinating and listening to too many sad slow songs *cough*Hallelujah*cough*.

What? Who said that?

Basically, because I'm a PruCan shipper, I never really envision that littel Pru-Hun-Aus love triangle (btw, for any hopefuls out there, this is not and PruAus fic) so I always imagined the three of them being really great friends who occasionally beat the living shit out of each other.

Ahem.

That, coupled with the fact that I never liked any of those Prussia-is-no-longer-a-country-and-therefore-will-now-die-in-the-most-tragically-sweet-way-ever-prefferably-making-somone-throw-up-and-a-lot-of-sappy-fangirls-cry fics.

I am not, however, opposed to killing him for the sake of the story line, Exhibit A below.

I repeat: Austria and Prussia are not lovers. Just. Friends.

Got it? Good.

To the song 'Hallelujah'. Look up any version you want, I'm particularly fond of the Kate Voegele version, but that's just me.

P.S. Anyone who caught that little weirdness I did at the end there gets brownie points.

"Mr. Eidlestein! Mr. Eidlestein! A moment please!"

Roderich looked to where one of the news reporters was calling his name.

This reporter was different, however. Instead of being pushy and arrogant and irritating and overall so damn annoying he was young and earnest and genuine.

"What is it, young man?" Roderich asked, pausing to look at the young reporter.

The Asutrian's companion, Elizabeta, paused as well, looking at her husband curiously.

"How did you first start playing the piano, sir?" the reporter asked.

Roderich's purple eyes clouded with nostalgia and pain, but he smiled at the young man before him.

"To tell you the truth, I hated it," Roderich said honestly, "The thing people called a piano was just another useless pastime."

I heard there was a secret chord

David played and it pleased the Lord.

But you don't really care for music, do ya?

"You're so mean, Roddy!"

"Kesesese! Don't listen to Specs, Eliza, he's just mad his vati didn't come home in time for his birthday."

Roderich felt his eyes welling with tears and glared at the smirking albino before him.

"So what if I am?" the Austrian demanded, storming off without a backwards glance to his two friends.

Several minutes later, Roderich was sitting in the corner of a random room in the big empty house, trying to make himself as small as possible.

He looked up when footsteps entered the room and, seeing who it was, furiously scrubbed the tears from his cheeks.

Gilbert took no notice of this, however.

Instead, the skinny teen looked at something else in the room.

"You can cry, you know."

Roderich jerked his head up sharply, "What?"

Gilbert crossed his arms, still not looking at the tear-stained boy in the corner.

"You can cry," he repeated, "It doesn't make you any less of a man, and I won't tell Liz."

The Austrian looked at his friend gratefully, not bothering to wipe away the fresh wave of tears that was falling down his cheeks.

Silence filled the room once more, not a sound coming from Gilbert as he walked silently and swiftly to the piano in the middle of the room.

"You don't know how to play the piano, do you, Specs?" the Prussian asked, brushing his fingers lightly across the ivory keys.

Roderich frowned, "What's the use in learning how to play something stupid like a piano?"

"Cause it's awesome!" Gilbert said enthusiastically, hoping up onto the bench and setting his hands on the keys, "Here, I'll show you!"

Well it goes like this: the fourth, the fifth

The minor fall and the major lift

The baffled king composing hallelujah

Roderich shook his head sadly, smiling softly at his wife.

Elizabeta smiled back, gripping her husband's hand.

"A special friend of mine loved the piano very much though," Roderich continued, "He tried to show me just what a wonderful thing the piano is."

The Austrian laughed harshly.

"You know something I've learned, young man?" Roderich asked.

The reporter shook his head, spellbound by the story.

"Just when you think everything is going right, the whole world can come crashing down."

Baby I've been here before

I know this room, I've walked this floor

I used to live alone before I knew ya

"I love you, Eliza," Roderich muttered, hugging the Hungarian girl as she sobbed into his shoulder.

Elizabeta's breath hitched as she looked up at the teenage Austrian.

"I-I love you t-too, Roderich," she whispered.

Roderich looked down at his shoes, "I know you really miss him. I do too. But, that's nothing tears can help, is it?"

He looked up at the girl hopefully.

Elizabeta took a shaky breath, "I-I just don't know what to think, Roderich. I mean, what if he never comes back?"

Purple eyes widened as they met the fear in Elizabeta's green ones, "W-what if h-he d-d-di-"

The brunette couldn't finish the sentence, instead choosing to let her tears fall again, burying her head in the taller boy's shoulder.

Roderich stroked her hair, not really sure what to say.

Gilbert hadn't really given them much warning.

'Awesome out, guys! I'll see you again soon!'

'Why?' Roderich demanded, 'Why are you leaving?'

Gilbert smiled sadly at his friend, 'It's what I want. Not what Vati wants, not what West wants, not even what you want. I know it sounds selfish, but this is something I have to do on my own, you know?'

Roderich blinked back tears as he glared half-heartedly at his friend.

The albino smiled again, 'You can cry, it won't make you any less of a man. And I won't tell your girlfriend.'

Normally, Roderich would have gotten flustered and protested that Eliza was not his girlfriend, but he just shook his head.

'You keep playing the piano, hear me?' Gilbert reminded, 'Get so awesome at it that you'll be even awesomer than me by the time I get back?'

'I could never be awesomer than you, jackass,' Roderich muttered as he watched Gilbert disappear.

"He won't, Eliza," Roderich assured the crying girl, "He'll come back. He's too awesome not too."

I've seen your flag on the marble arch

But love is not a victory march

It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

"What happened then, sir?" the reporter asked when Roderich had trailed off for a minute or so.

"Huh?" the Austrian man blinked at the young reporter.

"What happened then, sir?" he repeated.

"That friend of mine, he went off and did something rather stupid," Roderich sighed, "But, at the same time, maybe it was a smart thing for him to do. That boy was born to protect others, so that's what he did."

"When you say it was stupid," the reporter asked slowly, "Do you mean he was stupid or the thing he did was stupid?"

"Oh, he acted stupid enough," Elizabeta smiled at her husband's comment, "But he was the smartest man I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. So, in a way, a little of both."

There was a time when you let me know

What's really going on below

But now you never show it to me, do you?

"Gilbert, when're you coming home?"

"Not sure about that one, Specs. It's real hectic around here, I was supposed to come back last week, but they weren't letting anyone in or out."

Roderich sighed, "You used to be able to come home all the time. I'm really worried for you, Gilbert."

"How's Liz?"

The Austrian sighed again at the change of subject but glanced back at his fiance, currently sprawled across the couch.

"She misses you," Roderich said sadly, "We all do. Ludwig, your dad."

"Keseseses, can't survive without my awesome for long, can you?"

Roderich's breath hitched at the familiar laugh, a pang in his chest reminding the Austrian once more how much he missed his best friend.

"We'll manage," Roderich smiled sadly.

"You getting good on the piano, Specs? I can't wait to hear how awesome you'll sound when I get back. You have been practicing, right?"

Roderich glanced forlornly at the grand piano in the middle of the room.

"Of course," he muttered, "Every day."

"Keep it up, Specs! Oh, hey! I found this super awesome chic who's super cute and I think she likes me–I'm awesome, after all, who wouldn't like me?–do you mind if I bring her back with me for Christmas? She doesn't really have any family."

Roderich laughed, "Trust you to be on a battlefield and only thinking about girls."

"Says the almost-married man, kesesese~! Don't worry, Specs, I'll be back in time for you and Liz's wedding. Promise."

"Hey, um, Gilbert?"

"Yeah?"

"Come home safe."

And remember when I moved in you

The holy dove was moving too

And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Roderich laughed harshly, "That dummkopf, making us worry about him like that."

"W-was he okay?" the reporter asked.

Elizabeta squeezed her husband's hand reassuringly.

"Of course not," Roderich said, "Being 'okay' wasn't enough for that idiot. No, he had to go and do something stupid and heroic."

"What happened to him?" the young man asked.

"He saved an entire platoon."

Maybe there's a God above

But all I've ever learned from love

Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you

"THAT IDIOT! THAT DAMN STUPID HEROIC IDIOT!"

"Roderich?" Elizabeta rushed out of their room, frantically searching for her husband, "What's wrong?"

"H-HE JUST COULDN'T KEEP H-HIMSELF OUT OF T-TROUBLE, C-COULD HE?" Roderich shouted, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Roderich," Elizabeta muttered, resting a hand on her husband's shoulder, "What happened?"

"T-they just c-called," Roderich choked, "S-said he s-saved an entire p-platoon. H-he's going t-to be awarded the m-medal of honor."

The Hungarian woman's eyes widened, "Isn't that a good thing? Gilbert must be so proud. He'll probably strut around the whole house, bragging about just how awesome he is-"

Elizabeta stopped when arms circled her waist and something warm was pressed against her shoulder.

'You can cry. It doesn't make you any less of a man, and I won't tell Liz.'

The only thing that moved were Roderich's shaking shoulders, his sobs the only noise.

The brunette reached up a shaking hand to stroke her husband's hair.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

Roderich gripped his wife's waist tightly, his whole body shaking.

Elizabeta continued to run her fingers through Roderich's hair, silent tears falling down her own cheeks.

"A-at least," she muttered, "He was doing what he wanted to, protecting others. That's how he would have wanted it to be, don't you think?"

Roderich just sniffed, looking up at his wife and hiccupping slightly.

The Hungarian woman reached up to trace her husband's cheek, "We still have him, you know. And we still have that piano he loved so much."

Elizabeta buried her face in her husband's shoulder as he pulled her into a tight hug.

"He'll always be right beside us, Roderich, always."

It's not a cry you can hear at night

It's not somebody who has seen the light

It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

"I see," the reporter said, his eyes filling with sympathy for the middle-aged pianist, "That must have been horrible."

Roderich scoffed, "That funeral. It kills me to think what he would have said if he had been there. Probably something like 'this funeral is so dark and sad and unawesome! Why is everyone crying? I never know what to do when people cry, so stop being unawesome!' or such."

The young reporter chuckled softly at the older man's imitation of his friend.

"He sounds kind of like my dad," the young man said, smiling, "You must have been really fond of him."

The Austrian smiled warmly at the kid, "I don't think anyone couldn't be fond of him. He was just one of those people who…grows on you."

The reporter gave a respectful nod and a "Thank you for your time, sir," and was turning to leave when Roderich said, "Wait!"

The young man turned with a curious look, "Yes sir?"

"If you ever want to, talk sometime," Roderich stuttered, smiling warmly, "I'd be glad to oblige, I'm sure you know where I live."

Nodding fervently, the reporter beamed at him, "I'd enjoy that very much, sir! Thank you!"

"What's your name?" Roderich asked, just as the reporter was turning to go.

Violet eyes met purple as the young man smiled again, "My name's Matthew Beilschmidt."

And he disappeared into the crowd with a swish of blonde hair.

I did my best, it wasn't much

I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch

I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you

And even though it all went wrong

I'll stand before the Lord of Song

With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah