It was still an early autumn, and yet it already felt really cold. Heavy feet crunching everything beneath as a man walked. His fingers brushing along the cold, freezing concrete.
For almost 45 years he had been used to solitude. Right after a sweet sweet indulgence of an unconditional loyalty in his darkest insanity, his faithful brother was held apart from him.
He let out a misty breath.
It didn't feel so heavy back then. Unlike now. Especially with this aggravating existence of a barrier.
The house was always too big for only a person, even with three dogs. So were the couch, the living room, the kitchen, the garden, the study, the street, and literally everything. Having nobody beside him made everything worse. Lonely, miserable, awkward, and sad. With no hissing laugh that vibrated though the house, no pair of obnoxious boots that ran around the house, no hoarse voice boasting awesomeness, no ruffles on the blond hair, no ghastly figure to wander around, and not even the slightest mischievous grin that infuriates the whole world. Germany, even with the new updated map, was too big for a Germany.
He painfully missed his brother.
Until now he still acts like his energetic nuisance of a brother was still around. Cooking the meals for two and either stored them in the fridge or gave them out when he remembered his brother wasn't going to eat that, only to cook the meals again and do exactly like the previous day. Marking the calendar each year on his brother's birthday and preparing it each year only to realize his brother wouldn't be there to celebrate. And as childish as he was, doing his best at everything that his country was rebuilt impossibly quick, only to realize, his brother was a lot worse and thus, couldn't rejoice along. And it always pained him knowing whatever remarks his brother gave, none would ever reach him.
Their separation was rather regrettable. Gilbert easily bade him goodbye like he can come back whenever. And really, with his brother acting all nonchalant, it was awkward for him to say that he wasn't willing to let the soviets take his brother. Even the Allies were surprised that they didn't need to subdue the albino nor soothe an outraged blond. All preparations in vain, Gilbert made everyone look awkward. Even all five of them came, and when they broke in with such a rash, the albino just grabbed his suitcase, kissed his brother on the forehead, chirped his farewell in such a cheery tone, and fled to them. Leaving the Allies pleasantly surprised with the ease of procedure, and Ludwig not registering what had happened.
That time the blond had already known that his brother, or himself, would suffer, at least for not being able to be with each other anymore. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to reason with them and take his brother back or not. He didn't trust the Soviets. They were one of the major cause he lost the war. And now his brother was going to their side. While he was supposed to be with him.
But even his brother seemed okay with it, not a single complaint, though Ludwig wasn't sure whether it was just a façade or not. He lost the war, whatever he feels about the treaty held nothing against it.
Now he knew that he was right after all. Although he was (almost) okay that his brother became a separate country, it was revealed that his brother didn't get full authority over himself. He was just a puppet of the Soviets, used solely for their purpose.
As time elapsed, he heard worse and worse news about his brother. About him being tortured, starved, and treated like an animal. Despite that those were so vague, he couldn't help but worry. With lesser and lesser contacts with his brother, that eventually he couldn't reach his brother at all, his anxiety could only grow and grow and ate him off.
For 45 years he lived in thought, his mind wandering around, and the more he thought about his brother, the heavier his burden. Because as much as he was already worried over the condition on the other side, he couldn't restraint his brain from relating it with the past events. Given Gilbert's attitude, being indifferent –or did he look happier?- if that wasn't just an act, could he be actually grateful for the separation? That he was sick of the blond and want nothing else than to get rid of him? That the punishment of siding with the Soviets was actually a bliss? And that Ludwig was never going to see his brother again solely because – he refused to think further. He always ended up here, that thought, in front of the wall, no matter how many beaches his mind had or how many things he needed to attend to. True, Ludwig had done the unforgivable, even when his brother had warned him he didn't listen, he had reduced his brother off his autonomy and under his control. And he had done things he refused to remember.
His memories kept him aware, and now, even the slightest thing that passed while he was wistfully reminiscing upon the happy days, like how he ignored his brother for work and how he told him to go away when he was busy, made him wince. Now he didn't need to do that anymore, and it bothers him how he acted like he didn't need his brother -that his brother was useless, annoying, and nagging-, regardless that he was reduced to such a workaholic zombie when his brother was taken.
Now there he was, in front of the wall, alone, desperately hoping his tiny little heart that the news he heard was right, that his brother was fighting to break free, that the wall will be demolished and he might see his- that person again, Ludwig wasn't someone worthy enough to have a brother.
He stopped in his tracks to turn and face the wall, pressing his hand on it. He sighed and leaned forward until his head touched the chill.
It was all his fault that the war started. It was all his fault that the innocent people died. It was all his fault they lost. It was all his fault for not taking his brother's warning. But then the one who got blamed was Prussia. The one who got abolished was Prussia. And the one, instead of getting nursed by the western victors, went into a torture chamber of the eastern, was once again, Prussia.
But though it all, the last thing he remembered about that white person of irony was a bright bright smile before he left.
His ears caught something. Some ruckus was quickly coming closer. He pushed himself from the wall and took a few steps back. Eyes widening and heart pumping.
Gilbert
The blond stood there, legs frozen to the ground. Watching intently as some people managed to climb the wall, some yelled either encouragement or calls to people on the other side, and the rest creating little cracks on the wall. His mouth gaped of amazement.
The day finally came. The cracks grew and joined each other. And suddenly, the proud cold wall crumbled. People quickly flew out as if the wall were a dam.
Ludwig quickly dashed into the crowd, searching for that familiar figure he missed so much. Something was already pooling under his eyelids. And he could feel some heat rising to his face. And there he saw that albino laughing with a friend, the same as ever. He hoped nothing really changed.
He hoped Gilbert would be happy to be with him again. Even though Ludwig didn't fight for him nor listen to him. Even though he didn't stop the Allies from taking him nor try to take him back. Even though he didn't put him on first priority, nor even treat him like an older brother. But still, he wanted Gilbert back, although he'd probably treat him just the same. Yes he was stubborn, yes he was insufferable, yes he was just a spoiled brat, but he was Gilbert's little brother, so would he accept him back?
Red orbs caught the blue. Gilbert's smile faltered.
They froze awkwardly there for a moment, breaking all of Ludwig's hope. Neither spoke anything, both inspecting each other.
Only then did the taller man realize how small his brother was compared to him, with bruises all over his face that had been concealed by his brightness. His clothes were rather thin and ragged, and Ludwig wasn't sure that protected him from the cold, especially near Russia's place. He was thin, anyone could see his thin sweater was hanging. All of that was, once again, his fault. His pool was overflowing, and he tried his to handle that.
His tears must had been so obvious, because then he felt warmth wrapping around him. His chest hurts, he squeezed back. He hugged him and hugged him tight, he couldn't stop his tears now. He had forgotten how nice a hug was, how big his brother was the last time they did, how he could feel the warmth engulfing him, how he could hold him as tight as he could. But now, he was the one engulfing his brother, and he tried to be gentle. He failed. He wanted to hug him tight, and so he did. Feeling his brother's broken ribs and sinking stomach, the little ridges of his spine, aware that he might actually worsen that.
He didn't care.
They were one now. He didn't want any distance between them, he didn't want to be apart, even for one little inch. He wanted to be with his brother, to amend his solitude for 45 years. Even if it was a short time for a country, it already felt like eons. Because his brother was always there, with him, loved him, accepted him, protected him, and the one who actually cared for him.
He yelled his apology right on his brother's ear, screaming every regret he had piled up alone. That he started the war, that he didn't listen, that he was stubborn, ignorant, hateful, selfish, everything. Fully aware that his voice might deafen his brother. He didn't care. Soaking the thin fabric with his tears, while he know that the cold would penetrate right through and reach his brother. He didn't care. His brother was here, with him, listening, rubbing his back, soothing him, whispering that there's nothing to forgive when there was so much he needed to.
His brother was here, that was all he cared about.
sorry if this turns out to be a mess, i wrote that in a rush and i'm still late for the german reunification day ... TTATT
