Before you ask-

I don't know where the heck this came from.

Actually I do- I was listening to my radio this morning.

They played Adele.

This happened.

It's supposed to be Fem!Prussia who wrote the letter, but feel free to insert whatever character you ship Austria with.

And without any further procrastination, I give you...

Two Kinds of Notes

The mailman put down the flag on their mailbox and pulling it open, stuffed envelopes inside. He closed it and drove away, the yellow light on the top of his truck reflecting off the hallway mirror.

Roderich stepped outside. He was faced with a brisk morning breeze and the half-frozen dew covering the front yard. Why is the mail here so early? It usually came at about one in the afternoon. I haven't even made coffee yet. He crossed the front yard to the mailbox and pulled it open, revealing a stack of letters and bills. He brought them inside and sat them on the dining room table, then went into the kitchen to start the coffee.

Elizaveta came down a few minutes later. She sat down at the table and began looking through the mail, throwing bills at the seat on the far end of the table where no one sat. She tore open a letter and read it, rolling her eyes. Roderich came back over, carrying two steaming coffee mugs, and sat one in front of her, taking the seat across from her and sipping his own mug. "Look at this," she scoffed. "They actually think we're going to help them out."

He took the letter and skimmed over it, then shrugged. "I don't see why we shouldn't."

"Cause they never help us, that's why!"

He nodded slowly and re-read the letter. "True." She gulped down half her coffee and opened another envelope. It went on like this until there was only one letter left.

It was addressed to Rodrich, but there was no return address and their address wasn't on the front- so it had been hand-delivered. But how?He had gone to get the mail as soon as it arrived, leaving no time for someone to put a letter in the mailbox, and they had sent letters, so it would have been taken along with those.

"There's no address on this." Elizaveta stated the obvious while turning the envelope around, trying to figure out what it was. She began to toss it at the pile of bills, but he took it from her. "Hey! You shouldn't open that, who knows what it is. It probably doesn't have a return address for a reason, you know. So you can't track them."

He opened it anyways. The letter itself wasn't addressed directly to him- in fact, his name wasn't anywhere on the page. It wasn't even signed, but he knew who it was from.

"What is that?" She leaned across the table, trying to get a look at the letter, but he waved her away and began to read.

Someone told me that you bought the house you were looking at, so if you were wondering (which I know you were) that's how I got your address. Don't forget, I know you well- that's exactly what you were wondering, isn't it?

And she realized who this was from, didn't she? She didn't want you to open it because she knows you, just like I do. She knows how you feel. Even though you try to keep your emotions under lock and key, those who understand you, like her and I, we know where you keep the spare key.

So, anyways. There are rumors going around that you two are married now. I'm guessing that they're probably true. If you're living together, I doubt that you aren't- it's not like you. Which ring did you use? The one I liked or the one you liked? I haven't seen either of you recently so I don't know. You've been good with keeping pictures away from me- I haven't seen even one. Impressive. I don't know why you're acting so shy all of a sudden, though. Just because you married her doesn't mean you're hated.

When I heard about you buying the house I couldn't help myself. I had to send you a letter. Sorry to turn up randomly like this, especially since you thought I was gone, out of your life for good. Well, I'm sorry, but I'm stronger than that. Sometimes, though, I wish I wasn't. The time just flies on by and someday I'll get over it, right? I mean, you have, so why can't I?

What's the saying... About glory days, and how they only happen once so enjoy it before it's over. Mine are over, and sadly I didn't have the time to enjoy them the way I should have. Yours aren't over- how did you manage that?It's her, I guess, keeping you up and on your toes. What would you say if I told you I was jealous? That I wish I could switch places with you? That I wish you were the one who tries to hide the pain? But I don't wish those things- because they would be a waste of a wish. You're the one trying to hide pain, not me. No, I'm much more open- I did send you this letter, after all. But go on pretending. I don't want to ruin it for you.

That's not sarcasm, either. I'm happy for you. You found a girl and a house and a life. After this letter I think I'll disappear again, for a little while. But I wish you the best.

Just remember- it might be over for you, but it isn't over for me.

Not by a long shot.

He folded the letter and slid it back into the envelope. There was another piece of paper inside, and he took it out. Sheet music. There were two kinds of notes in this letter.

Elizaveta followed him to the piano. He slid back the keyboard cover and began to play. There were words to the music- she sang them.

"I heard that you, settled down, that you, found a girl and you're, married now..."