Warnings: Rated T solely for reference to the traumatic events of WWII. Unbeta'd.
Disclaimer: Hetalia is the creation of Hidekaz Himaruya.
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Austria hadn't been planning on leaving the house that day.
He truly hadn't even planned on talking to anyone.
He'd been sitting, in the quiet, in the dark, the sunlight strangled and dimmed by the heavy curtains flung shut across his window. He wasn't dressed, and he hadn't eaten. There was no heavenly smell of coffee brewing, nor calming notes of classical music streaming from his disc player.
In fact, it had taken quite a bit of willpower simply for him to get out of bed and cross the hallway to go sit at his kitchen table.
It didn't feel right, but Roderich knew from experience that nothing he did today would.
This was one of those days.
He knew that if he checked the news, it would make things worse. It was almost tempting, however. He deserved it, didn't he? He deserved to hear them talk about it. He deserved to watch them scatter the roses petals over the beaches of Normandy. He deserved to have to watch the documentaries, to read the opinions, to remember what he'd been a part of.
He certainly didn't deserve to be sitting down, doing nothing, taking for granted the privileged life he had when so much had been lost because he had become that...
Sometimes, he was tempted to call France on this day. He didn't even particularly care for the man, but such was the guilt he felt, he needed to say something, to apologize, to atone...
Certainly, he'd already paid debts. He'd tolerated the Allied occupation and agreed to neutrality.
It wasn't enough to be freed of how he felt on days like this, when a celebration for others turned into a despicable reminder of the horrifying events he'd been responsible for.
Somewhere in the house, a phone was ringing.
Austria stood up mechanically, schooling his face into a neutral expression as if the caller would be able to see his thoughts. His steps were measured and slower than usual across the hardwood floor, the gait of a doomed man, or one who felt so.
He picked up the receiver and leaned against the wall, saying nothing.
"Österreich."
Austria shut his eyes.
"Can you come over?" The voice asked gruffly.
"No." The response was immediate.
"Roderich..."
"I can't." He repeated, more forcefully. "Ludwig, I don't want to go out there. I don't want to go to Berlin."
There was silence over the line for a few moments. Roderich knew he was being selfish. He almost expected Ludwig to become angry, but just the opposite occurred.
"You're right." He answered at last, quietly. There was a rustle over the line, as if he was about to hang up. "I'm sorry to have bothered you, Österreich."
"Wait," Roderich uttered softly. "I'm not upset with you. Come here, to Vienna. You shouldn't have to be alone."
"Are you sure? Why not?"
"I am. Because I know what you're feeling, and you know it. You wouldn't have called otherwise. Just come here."
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Germany looked strangely out of place that day, standing on his doorstep, holding two cases of beer as if they might be going to watch a game of fútbol together. Roderich had to squint through the stark light of day to let him in.
"Why are you in the dark?" The blonde asked, wiping his boots on the mat by reflex.
"Does it matter?" Roderich countered in a monotone. He was already exhausted, and it was hardly four o'clock yet.
"Ja, it does." Germany flipped a switch on after they entered the sitting room. "You need light. You're only going to make the day worse, acting like this."
Austria didn't want to be told what he did and didn't need. He didn't want to make the day better for himself. "Where is your bruder?" He asked, kneading his temples. "Doesn't he usually spend this day with you?"
"He does. But he went out today. He said he needed space. I left a message for him." Ludwig shifted awkwardly. "I can still leave, if you want."
"Space?" Roderich scoffed wryly. "There is no space from this, he knows that." His features softened. "It's alright. As I said, I'm not upset with you."
"But you are upset with yourself."
The musician turned his face away. "No more than usual."
"Don't lie to me!" Ludwig exclaimed in exasperation, only to wince when Roderich jumped slightly. Only a few minutes into their visit, and he was causing more harm than good.
"I'm sorry... I just can't stand it when you treat me like an idiot, or a child. Don't hide obvious things from me."
For some reason, the words seemed to wreck the Austrian even more. "Of course not." Roderich's voice barely reached above a whisper as he sank down onto the sofa. "You don't even remember being a child, do you? You haven't been one for such a very long time."
He reached for the cases of beer, noting with surprise that they already felt somewhat chilled. He looked up questioningly.
"I stocked up before today." The slightly taller man admitted.
"How pathetically appropriate." Roderich placed them on the table. "At least you bought the inexpensive kind."
Ludwig sat down and broke a case open. They each took a can. For a while, there was only silence aside from the faint rustling of clothing as the two slowly relaxed their posture, and the metallic clink of beer cans.
"Sometimes I still feel like a monster." Germany admitted at last to the open air, staring straight ahead.
"I know, junge." Roderich returned quietly. "Do you want to know why?" He added, clenching his free hand into a fist. He was feeling a numbing buzz, a sluggish thrum pumping through his veins, but he was nowhere near being truly drunk yet.
"Do you want to know why I blame myself...why I hate myself for what happened, Ludwig? It's because sometimes, I think I was the cause."
Ludwig had rarely seen Roderich this snappish. He could tell the other man was struggling with raw emotion, fighting to keep it contained beneath the surface of his countenance.
It was unnerving, but he dared not interrupt.
"You were raised in the midst of my wars with your bruder. War is all you've ever known. From the very beginning, it was what shaped you. I did that to you. I couldn't accept your brother's right to raise you. We fought constantly, right in front of you, right over you. Is it any wonder that you fell for such tyranny?"
"That is ridiculous."
"Is it? I think you knew, when you came and asked me to join you." To Ludwig's horror, Roderich's eyes were red-rimmed beneath his glasses, pooling with tears.
"You went to me first, because you knew it was my fault in the first place..."
"So you've made excuses for me in order to blame yourself for what happened? Doesn't that seem unfair?"
"It's not just that!" Austria set his latest empty can down in disgust, shamefully curling his knees to his chest upon the sofa. "I never made any real resistance to it. I never tried hard enough to break away, once I realized what was happening. I let it all continue... I watched you change, I knew what we were doing and I...-"
He broke off with a sharp intake of breath, dipping his head down to hide his face from view. "You were not the first monster to be made, junge. It wasn't all your fault. I was supposed to be older, stronger, wiser. But I was what your bruder always used to say I was. Weak, cowardly. I let this happen. I let it happen not only to the rest of the world, but to you."
"Roderich..." Germany was truly at a loss for words, shocked by the confession. He knew Austria carried guilt, they both did - all three of them did, but he hadn't realized the other man had been hiding this much.
"You can't think that way. It was my leader who started this-"
"Born in my land. Sometimes I cannot even go to Linz without remembering what he tried to do to it-"
"Stop this!" Ludwig angled his body and reached across the empty space between them, grabbing both of Roderich's thin wrists. "Listen to me. It was I who sought you out. I pressured you. I lied to you. I know you were treated horribly through that war because of your last name, despite your connection to me. Don't take this the wrong way, but you could have never stopped us." He waited for Roderich to look up, staring intently at his tear-streaked face. "Stop blaming yourself. You've suffered enough. I honestly wonder how you cannot hate me sometimes."
Roderich choked on a sob. "You and I have both had enough of hate, Ludwig." He uncurled himself slightly, yielding to the other's grip. "I know it is all over now...at such great cost. I only wish...you have no idea how much I wish I could have ended it sooner." He shook his head. "You shouldn't have this reputation, this burden... I don't care what you say, you are still young."
"Sometimes I wish I didn't have the power that I do, that the mistakes I make couldn't possibly become so widespread. There are days like this, when I cannot even bear to look the others in the eyes..." Germany shook his head, leaning back and releasing the man. "But I don't blame you for what happened. And I am...sorry to have caused you such pain. I never knew you felt this way."
"I never really wanted you to." Roderich let out a laugh devoid of humor, jerking his glasses off to wipe his face. The pressure behind his eyes didn't fade, however, and he could feel more salty tears building up. Frustrated, he set the spectacles down on the table. "You see, I can't even manage to comfort you. I'm useless."
It would have been so much better to have been alone.
"You are not." Ludwig countered, reaching away from his comfort zone to hold his arms out to the man, feeling his own icy exterior crash and burn as he looked at Austria's bare and wrecked face. "You are family."
Scooting forward, Roderich bowed his head against Ludwig's shoulder, wrapping his arms around the toned body even as his own lighter frame was encircled in muscular arms.
Roderich pressed his face into the younger man's shirt, soaking it with silent, hot tears. He could feel Ludwig shaking in his arms, trembling with strain.
"It's alright, junge." Gently, he rubbed the man's back. "Es ist Ordnung."
The soft, soothing touch set off the blonde's own breakdown. Germany erupted into loud, pained sobs and incomprehensible wails. Austria made no move to quiet him, only shut his eyes and rocked him back and forth as best he could.
There were no more words, nor reasons. There wasn't even any more blame. The burning built up along the jagged edges of their hearts where such heavy regrets laid. As it festered and crashed into hollow sorrow, they simply allowed each other to cry.
.x.x.x.
His footsteps were uncharacteristically quiet as he entered the locked house, accustomed to letting himself in, yet unsure as to what he would find.
The light in the sitting room was on, two figures on the sofa appearing still. He walked around the furniture to stare down at them, folding his arms at the picture they made. Roderich's fingers were curled loosely, one hand clutching the front of Ludwig's shirt, the other dangling off the edge of the sofa. He was curled on his side, lying half on top of the blonde man who still had his arms clasped around the thin, slightly curved waist of the musician.
He took in the empty cans of beer littering the table and floor, the way some of them appeared to have been crushed before being cast aside.
Finally, Gilbert looked at the calm expressions on their faces, and felt a sense of relief that they had peace, at least in this moment.
"You two will be alright."
He wiped the dried tears from their faces, smoothing a blanket over their sleeping forms.
Sitting down across from them, he retrieved a rose petal from his shirt pocket, still fresh and vibrant from where it had fallen.
"It takes a damn long time, but we're all going to be alright."
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End
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Author's Note: I was going about a rainy day, and this pile of angst hit me out of nowhere. Yet another late tribute (of an odd sort) to historic!Hetalia.
German Translations:
Österreich - Austria
Ja – Yes
Junge – Lad/Young Man/Fellow/Boy/etc.
Es ist Ordnung - It's alright.
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