This one-shot came from the dark recesses of my mind on a tuesday evening after spending too much time on my own. This is my first time writing from Germany's POV, hope I get it right, although it would make sense for him to be OOC in this situation.

I DO NOT OWN HETALIA OR ANY OF IT'S CHARACTERS.

"Prussia, I'm home!" Silence. Thats odd, normally he bugs me on end when I get home, over whether or not I confessed my feelings for Italy yet, or if I brought home food, I wonder what's going on. I walked into the living room from the entryway to see a disturbing sight, my Bruder, so strong, so sure of himself, holding a gun to his own head, crying. "EAST! BRUDER! DON'T DO IT!"

"Es tut mir leid, Bruder, I have to." After he said that, there was a gunshot, and my Bruder was dead. I ran over to him, refusing to believe it, crying, when I saw a note on the table next to him. It was addressed to me.

Bruder, if you are reading this, then I have given up. Please give the sealed envelope to Canada, it explains my feelings for him. I am so very, very sorry I had to leave you like this, but I could not go on, I do not belong in the world anymore, my nation no longer exists, my friends have turned against me, and I have become a burden to you. This is the story of every bad thing I have ever done.

It went on to chronicle everything, from his time as a Teutonic Knight to World War Two, I hated it, but I could not stop reading. I did not hate my Bruder for what he had done, I, having done horrible things in my time, understood how it could have been too much for him, it almost was for me after World War 2, but I held on, because I knew that when the wall fell, he would come looking for me, and if I was dead, he would most likely blame himself for leaving me.

I guess I should call Canada, and Austria, and Hungary, and France, and Spain, and everyone else for that matter, but Canada should be the first to know that his love was dead.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing, Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing, Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing. Huh, my phone's ringing. I guess I'd better get that.

"Hallo?"

"Bonjour, Germany, this is Canada, may I speak to Prussia?" Looks like I won't have to call him after all.

"He-he's dead."

"W-what do you mean he's dead, Nations can't die."

"He committed suicide earlier today."

"WHAT! I'M COMING OVER THERE RIGHT NOW! IT CAN'T BE TRUE!"

"Calm down Canada, I don't want to believe it either, but it happened right in front of my eyes."

"I'm still coming over there to help plan the funeral."

"Okay."