Ludwig stood on the staircase, looking down into the living room at a rather tall man, sitting in the floor in front of the fireplace. He'd never seen the Bavarian go to bed on Christmas eve, and wondered why for centuries that he always sat there in the living room as the others all went to rest until morning. This year, however, he was going to find out what it was. Why did Heinrich always stay up so late? What does he always do?
The red-blond haired man simply stared into the dying fire, but not seeing the low, still light. It had been several hours since the fire had been lit, and at least one or two since the flames went down enough to hardly be called a fire anymore. It was a bit of smolders, if anything but now. The man, the oldest of the three German brothers, was slowly running his fingers over the face of a silver pocketwatch attatched to a chain around his neck. The watch he usually kept hidden, tucked beneath his shirt. The one with an Austrian crest on the lid.
Ludwig, of course, could not see the details of the watch from his place on the stairs, only that a small, glinting object in his big brother's, if Bavaria even considered them brothers anymore, hand. The muscular blond carefully began making his way down the stairs, soliciting a light squeak on the third step from the bottom.
Heinrich's trance was instantly broken, violet eyes immediately locked on the German's figgur, filled with raw emotion that Ludwig simply could not dechiper. Sadness? Anger? Happiness? He'd never been one for reading emotions, and his big brother, having spent so much of his time in Austria's house, had learned to conceal most if not all of his. With a blink, the light was gone, and his face stoic. He stood up slowly and spoke in a calm, clear voice. "I did not expect to see you up so early, Herr Beilschmidt."
Always so formal, this Bavarian. It was like having a constant guest in the house, despite him being the one who truly paid for everything. "Heinz, you don't… Why were you up so late? It's three in the morning."
"Don't." He said in a low voice, a warning tone quite evident. "My name is not Heinz."
"Your name is Heinz Beilschmidt-!"
"Lies!" He interrupted. "My name is Heinrich Holbein." He stated coolly, slipping the pocketwatch back under his nightshirt, turning around and began walking towards the kitchen.
A hand caught Bavaria's shoulder and pulled him back. "Fine. Heinrich. I ask again… Why are you up so la…" He trailed off, stunned by the intense glare he received from the other. Heinrich jerked his shoulder out of Ludwig's hold and went for the kitchen again, not caring what the blond wanted to ask.
As soon as he made it into the kitchen, Heinrich sat down heavily into a chair at the table, placed his elbows on the wooden surface and laced his fingers into his hair. He gave a soft growl as the blue eyed man followed into the room a few moments later and sat down across from him. "I hate Christmas…"
The confession struck a chord with Germany, who merely leaned back in his chair, pondering the three words for several minutes before he managed to send a quite inquiry: "…why?"