AU. Oneshot. Concerning Prussia's Death.
The boy's shoulders sagged wearily as he stood before the granite marker. Simple block letters announced the grave to be that of one Gilbert Beilschmidt, a brother and a friend. It did not announce him to be a role model, a chaser of closet monsters, a teller of (terribly morbid) bedtime stories, an effortless comedian, a melancholy drinker, a determined solider, a proud individual with an unquenchable thirst for life. So little could be drawn from the cold stone that only provided one name, two dates, and five simple words of description. Closing his eyes on the meaningless monument, the mourner jammed his knuckles into his mouth, struggling to focus on the pain in his fingers rather than the achingly hollow sensation in his chest. Tears weighted his short lashes, painting his cheeks with salty despair.
Pale blue blossoms – not much different in shade than the streaming eyes of the young barely-man – rested on the freshly-turned earth. Somewhere below lay what remained of a person who had given his brother everything in exchange for practically nothing. A sniffle broke free of the weeping teenager. Gilbert had deserved so much more than he had received.
"Thank you so much." Wracked with sobs and emotion, the boy dropped to his knees before the stone testament of his brother's existence. "I n-never was able to th-th-thank you for everything… For p-pushing me through school, f-for getting me into c-college, for always b-being there for me… thank you…"
In his mind, he could still see his brother's cocky smirk. Thin shoulders heaving with laughter, the albino threw his head back to chortle breathlessly at the ceiling. He'd been laughing at a joke told by Ludwig that hadn't been terribly funny due to his poor timing and mangling the punch line, but Gilbert had been amused nonetheless. In his mind, the boy could still see the tears in his brother's eyes as he struggled to contain himself.
"Are you okay?" A gentle voice broke through his memories, drawing the boy's attention to its beautiful owner who was regarding the marker with a dark expression on her pretty face.
"Fine."
If she heard the catch in his voice (which she couldn't have possibly missed) she ignored it entirely. Instead, her teeth worried at a plump lower lip as spring-green eyes traced the inscriptions on the headstone. She breathed sharply through her nose and looked away.
"He was a jackass, you know." Elizabeta said finally, a strange sad-happy note in her voice. Sighing, she forced a low chuckle. "I feel like I've spent half of my life straightening the bastard out."
Ludwig nodded solemnly, willing away the tears. "Me, too."
They silently recalled a thousand different scenarios in which the albino had found himself at one time or another, always grinning and barely ever remorseful.
"And backing out on us like this…" Shimmering tracks lined her cheeks as curved lips began to shake. "What a dick."
Cramming his hands into his pockets, the teenager rocked back on his heels. He wanted to say something, to fill the painful silence that his brother's death had cast upon them, but he was not Gilbert. He didn't know how to say things so funny, rude, or stupid that they could shock everyone out of their misery. Finally, he simply cleared his throat.
"If he were here," Elizabeta murmured, as though reading Ludwig's thoughts, "He would be cracking awful jokes right now… laughing like an idiot."
Ludwig's lips twitched slightly. "He would be."
Sharing a long moment, they stood thoughtfully before the empty stone. There were so many words that should have been etched into its surface, hard evidence of a life well lived. With a swipe of his sleeve, the boy coldly studied the granite marker. Maybe it said nothing because everything that was important was carefully locked into the minds of those who would never forget… and maybe that wasn't a bad thing after all.