When a Demon Comes Knocking

by mayflowerbel

Pathetic, awkward, kind. Unnatural, freak, mute. People have used those words to describe 2P Prussia ever since he was born. He knows all too well, that if somebody sees you as one thing, and one thing only, it's useless to try being anything else. This is his story. The story of how he became a demon. SECOND RATE: Part One, Prussia

WHEN A DEMON COMES KNOCKING

ANOTHER DAY

DISCLAIMER: The only thing I own in this is the plot and my headcanons of the 2P's.

It was spring.

A child was drowning.

He was screaming and crying and drowning and dying.

But not dead. Always dying, but never dead.

Gillen was used to it by now. The fear, the anger, the beatings. They would catch him, throw him in the river and leave him to die. It was just how his world worked. He was only second best after all. The knockoff counterpart to an original that didn't need improvement. He owed his entire existence- his puny, pathetic, worthless existence- to his original. He would gladly take part of the pain. He deserved it after all. His counterpart didn't.

When he finally surfaced again it was night again. The sopping, shivering figure crawled out of the river, dull red eyes wet with unshed tears, pale skin tinged blue. He collapsed on the riverbank, choking, coughing water, and, finally, gasping. The child simply laid there, staring at the stars, until dawn. Then, with a heavy sigh, he dragged himself up, knees still knocking together from the chilly air.

It was another normal day.

---

It was summer.

A boy was crying.

Hood pulled low over his head, long white locks dripping softly around his face, dull red eyes obscured by a veil of tears. The boy was leaning against a wall, cloaked in shadows. How he remained unseen was unclear, given his all white clothing. Maybe it was the eerily silent way in which he wept, all tears, no hiccups or gasps or howls. Maybe it was the way the shadows clung to him, shielded him from view, almost seeming protective. Maybe it was his soundless way of movement. No matter what it was, all the people went straight past him, as if he wasn't even there.

'I don't understand,' Gillen whispered hoarsely. 'Why do they hate me so much? Why are they so afraid? What am I doing wrong?'

He knew he wasn't like his counterpart, knew he was second rate, but that didn't mean he deserved to be treated like a demon! He was doing his best to fulfil his duty as a nation personification, couldn't they see that? Gillen curled further into himself, barely even wincing as his whole body flared with pain. The white material covering him slid from his arm. The bones were already whole, muscles, tissue and flesh knitting itself together.

It wasn't the first time this happened and it wouldn't be the last.

Another day was beginning.