warning; drabble.
disclaimer; I don't own APH.
The only sound in the room is the light ticking of the little silver clock in the corner of the wall.
Other than that, it is quiet.
It's always quiet.
Austria is sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, staring down at the coffee table in front of him. A chocolate cake is set in front of him. It's a rather small cake, usually meant to be shared by only two people.
The table is set for two.
There are two forks, untouched; it wouldn't be gentleman like to start eating without the other guest.
There is only one man, however.
Him.
A candle is placed in the middle of that cake. The tiny flame on top of it flickers; the only thing illuminating the room.
The shades are drawn, the door is locked and closed.
He has created an artificial night, and he has made that little candle his sun.
His joy, his happiness.
His glasses; no, his eyes.
They are the moon.
They reflect the sunlight.
They reflect his bright past.
What he used to be.
But it's all gone now.
His
sunshine
is
gone
forever.
He is
forever
alone.
No longer happy.
And he keeps telling himself
to smile.
But he just can't
bring himself
to show that emotion
today.
It's January 18th.
He closes his eyes
"Happy birthday, Prussia."
and he blows the candle out.
It's late. I know. I wrote this on Jan 18th, but I forgot all about it.