Lies
Everything is a lie
They don't seem to notice my tears
They've never questioned why I didn't die
Everything is unclear
Prussia sighed as he opened the door to his home. Another meeting, another day of pretending to be something I'm not,he thought and went into the kitchen to grab a beer. There's no point anymore, I mean I am a dead nation. How am I still around anyway? Sometimes I don't even know who or what I am.He took another swig of his beer. Sometimes even the alcohol didn't numb the burning pain anymore. He sighed for what seemed the millionth time that day and plopped down on his coach. Why did this have to keep going on? When did it even start not being real? And he thought. He thought back to the day he was supposed to die.
"Well, I guess this is good-bye, brüder." Prussia had said as he looked at his brother who had just signed the document proclaiming and authenticating his dissolution.
"Prussia, I'm sorry…it's-it's my fault that you are going to die. You… you didn't even do anything; you raised me and took care of me and now… now you're being punished for something I did." Germany said and looked away from his older brother in shame.
"Don't worry, it's alright. It was bound to happen someday." Gilbert assured him and pulled the German into an awkward hug.
"Brüder…" Germany had cried into his shoulder until Prussia had been led away by the Allies.
Prussia blinked at the memory and put the beer down. He should've died that day, but he had lived. Everyone had been so happy when he was still alive, especially after he had been with Ivan for so long.
"East!"
"Prussia!"
"Gil!"
Those were the screams of relief and recognition he received as he ran from the ruins of the wall and East Berlin, back to the warmth of his friends and family. That was the third day he was supposed to die. But he had lived.
After that, things had seemingly gone back to normal and everyone was happy. The only difference was that Prussia had changed. He wasn't the happy, arrogant, "awesome" guy he used to be, but after seeing the joy on everyones' faces he didn't want them hurt to by his new, serious personality, so he decided to pretend. Act like his old self, this way everyone could remain happy, even at the cost of his own happiness. They were important to him, his precious people. Back then he had hoped they cared about him too. Now he knew better.
A low rumble from outside distracted him from these thoughts. He turned to stare out the window. It was pouring outside. Thunder and lightning were clashing in a battle for dominance, a battle of lights and sounds.
Gilbert slowly stood up from his spot on the coach in his living room and threw his beer in the recycling bin. The Prussian moved his way to the front door; he slowly turned the brass knob and took a step forward. The pouring rain felt good on his depressed form, refreshing, as if wiping away all of his worries. Why wasn't there anyone there for him anymore? Someone to tell him to cleanup or not to drink so much, someone to scold him for standing outside in the pouring rain and that he might catch a cold, remind him to be careful? Why wasn't there anyone there ever?
People used to care, and he had cared for them. He and Hungary used to always run around and have fun, beating up Austria and annoying their fathers. Now she was too busy being a country; heck she wouldn't even give him the time of day. He used to act up to get her attention; just being yelled at, chased, and eventually knocked out with a frying pan had been enough for him. Now she wouldn't even look at him. It all started when she had learned she was a girl. Why did things have to change?
Then there was Austria, that "prissy aristocrat". He too would always yell at Prussia when he managed to see him with his daily "bother Austria sessions". In actuality the whole time, Prussia admired him and found his piano playing amazing and wonderful to listen to. Sometimes, Prussia would sit outside of the Austrian's window, right under the window sill and just close his eyes, letting the music reach into him and take him over. In the end, he had always just wanted Roderich to see him as a friend, a companion even, that they would get along, maybe even play together. Unbeknownst to anyone, even Ludwig, Old Fritz being the only exception, Prussia knew how to play the flute and he loved it. The one time the Prussian had gathered enough courage to actually ask the Austrian, he had overheard a conversation he wasn't supposed to. As he had entered the hallway, clutching to the flute case nervously, he had noticed people talking and stopped to listen.
"That Prussia; I can't deal with him any longer!" Hungary had shouted out and threw her hands in the air.
"Yes, I understand completely. Sometimes I just think how nice it would be if he had died with his dissolution." The Austrian had replied and nodded his head in agreement.
That had been enough for Prussia. He grabbed his flute case tighter and ran, tears forming in his eyes. They thought it would be better if he was dead? If only he had stayed and listened longer, then maybe things wouldn't be the way they are now.
"But, I'm glad that that idiot is still around, he makes life more interesting and fun." The Austrian continued and crossed his arms over his chest while nodding again.
"Yes, your right." Hungary agreed and smiled.
Meanwhile, Prussia was sitting, locked up in his room crying. If he already knew they felt like this, why was he crying? Prussia never thought of asking Austria to play with him again.
They smile at me as if everything is okay
But I know the sad truth, wishes don't come true
The world isn't always happy and gay
But then again, that's not anything new
Of course we can't forget France and Spain. The three of them had always been friends and got along great. But Prussia knew he was holding them back; they could have much more fun if he wasn't there, they didn't need him, and he was just extra weight. They also both had someone else. France had England, America, and Canada while Spain had Feliciano and his "precious Lovi", so they could just as easily function without him. Hadn't France been one of the main supporters of his dissolution? And Spain hadn't said anything, so they must have been disappointed when they learned he was still alive, and they were just pretending to be his friends; pity for the dead man. After all, who would want to be friends with "that arrogant jerk, Prussia"? Poland sure didn't like him, but Prussia couldn't really blame the man after all the pain he had suffered at the Prussian's hands.
And finally we have West. West, Prussia's precious little brother, the one he would always mooch off of and annoy. People said that, but they didn't know. They didn't know that Prussia always watched over and looked after Germany. They knew nothing of how Prussia always had and always would put his younger sibling before himself, hell if Germany even noticed it. Whenever Ludwig got into trouble, Prussia was sure to be there, to help him and to be the one to comfort him, and tell him everything was alright. When Germany had been younger, he used to always follow Prussia around, and ask him for advice, but now the only time Gilbert ever saw the German was when they happened to meet somewhere, and even then they made very small conversation until Ludwig went off with Italy. But Prussia cherished those few moments they did talk; it made him feel good to know his brother still acknowledged him. That Italian though, he was so lucky, all his life he had people around him, telling him they loved and cared about him. If anyone, Prussia was probably most like Romano, the only difference between them was that Romano had Spain to keep him anchored while Prussia had no one, no one but himself.
Gilbert had grown up alone with no one caring for him; he had had to survive on his own, using his own resources and power without the help of anyone, just himself. At one point he had these people care about him and he had hope, he even had a father, Germania, who would check up on him sometimes. So why, after all these people had done to him, did it still hurt to see them sad or crying? He wasn't quite sure of that himself.
My country is no more,
I'm lost in this downpour
Doesn't anybody see me anymore?
After standing outside for so long, Prussia suddenly remembered where he was and went back into his house and dried himself off. He walked upstairs into his room and lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and enjoying the quiet, peaceful darkness.
As he laid there he began to think again. This time he thought of his childhood. The horrors his young child's mind had seen had soon stopped seeming so gruesome and he had grown used to the merciless bloodshed after seeing it so often. He thought of the first battle he had been in; it had been a warm and sunny day, the kind other young children would have been up, running around and playing in. He had glared at the opposing forces and as the two armies clashed he was excited about finally being able to show off his skill in battle. But as the battle progressed, he realized with despair how wrong he was. War was cruel, bloody, and merciless, something a child his age should not have been a part of. As the years passed, he grew used to the battles, but they had twisted his young, fresh self into a cruel, merciless knight that loved fighting. Looking back now, that disgusted him. Quickly his thoughts flickered to something else. Germania.
The man had been someone the Prussian had, and still, looked up to. They rarely spoke, but one day Prussia came home after a particularly bloody battle and was covered in the blood of his opponents', a blank look on his face. Germania must have realized what pain and suffering he pushed onto the child and ran up to him, hugging him tightly as he silently cried, regretful for what he had done. These actions had confused the Prussian at the time so he just simply stood there and let the older nation cry into his shoulder. Thinking about Germania, Gilbert recalled the earliest memory he had; it was a dark and cloudy day when the Prussian had awoken on a beach surrounded by beautiful amber. He had stared at the collection in amazement before he looked down and noticed a shadow looming above him, and before he could look at who or what could have cast the strange shadow he blacked out again. Later he had jolted awake in a strange place with Germania worriedly starring down at him. The man seemed surprised when the Prussian suddenly sat up and jumped back a few feet, only to rush back over to the young boy's side. After the man asked Gilbert a few questions, to which he had no answers to, he looked worried again but immediately sighed and turned away mumbling, "Maybe this is for the best." From that day on, Prussia became a Teutonic Knight and practiced with Germania every day.
West ignores me
Austria and Hungary find me a nuisance
Spain and France don't need a three
Even though I already know this,
Why does it still hurt to see them unhappy?
But those days would never come again. Gilbert sighed and went downstairs; maybe he would go visit the others. After all, today was his "birthday" and it was always nice to get a friendly recognition from somebody.
0~0~0
Gilbert slowly made his way towards Austria's house. Ludwig wasn't home, probably off somewhere with Italy, and neither was France or Spain. Prussia wondered where those two could have gone and guessed they were probably off with their important people. So all that left was Austria, and Hungary, who he was sure, would be at Austria's house.
As he walked through the streets of Vienna, he looked around and took in the sights. How the world had changed since he was younger. Tall buildings, peace, no knights or general excitement, clothing; this new world may be peaceful but it was boring. And Prussia knew peace could never last, something one day would disrupt it. But for now, he would enjoy it while it lasted and soon he arrived at his desired destination. Deciding the best way to keep his façade up, he crouched underneath the window. From the sound of it, they were both in the piano room, perfect. Now to get into character, and… go! He jumped through the window and shouted his usual greeting.
"The awesome me had arrived! Bow down before me!"
"Hello, Prussia. I don't have time for your stupidity, I have to practice for a very important concert, so I suggest you just leave." The Austrian replied as he glared at the albino. Hungary wasn't here? Oh well, she didn't need to be, the Austrian was enough.
"C'mon, Roddy! Let's go to the park! Pleeeaaassseee." He begged the man. "I mean, today is a special day for the awesome me, so you have to take me!"
"What are you talking about? Nothing is going on today that is "special", so I suggest you just go home immediately." He replied, annoyed, unknowing to how much he had just hurt the Prussian.
"Okay…" Prussia replied and left, running through the slippery mush of washed out snow, covering his eyes with his arms, vainly trying to stop the flow of tears coming from his eyes. He should've known he wouldn't remember; in fact he was surprised they had remembered for as long as they had. He might as well just go home then, maybe drink himself to sleep. Yeah, that would be good, drink all his troubles away. That's why he loved beer, it could easily make him forget all the hurt he had locked up inside. So he went back to his cold, dark, empty house.
The days go by, I've become numb
I'm trapped in this darkness
The liquors stopped working, no more need for rum
I need release soon
Before it's too late
Can't anyone hear me?
And save me from this fate?
(Part 1)
A/N: Disclaimer: I no own Hetalia.
First part of a two or three-shot I hope you enjoyed it! And before you say anything, no I am not depressed; I just came up with this idea and decided to post it. In fact, I'm going to go write a BTF story now! I won't continue unless I get reviews. Poem by moi, let's just say I was really bored on the last day of school and thought about how Gil could really feel on the inside. I mean I've seen other people touch on this idea so I decided to give it a shot. That's it I think. Ciao for now~
-Akai