Hungary leaned down and started shifting through the boxes. "No, not here" she said to herself. The Hungarian girl was looking for some old music that her boyfriend had composed a while ago. Unfortunately, it wasn't anywhere to be seen. "Oh dear," she said standing up to her usual height, "I can't seem to find it anywhere."
"Miss Hungary," she heard a man call out, "can you find it?" This man, was her long-time boyfriend, Austria, or ' ' as he preferred her to call him. He was a good man, really, had a fair amount of money, moderate looks and smarts, but really, it was his music that made her love him.
"No, I'm sorry I can't," she replied. Now, you may be wondering, 'Why isn't he searching? Why is it just her?' well, there's a reason to it. He doesn't want or need to. She would do it for him, hell, she would do anything for him. She loved Austria, even if he didn't. No, she shouldn't be thinking about him, he was long gone. A memory. A distant past.
Hungary stood up a brushed herself off. "Well than," she said to herself, "better get going and make his pie. I can search later." That was one of the things she mad to do for him. Cook for him. And Clean. And anything else he wanted done. But it was fun, wasn't it? All for love. Something that he would have given her. No! Bad Hungary. She can't keep thinking about him! As the young (Well old really) girl stood up something old caught here eye.
It was as if it were a magic cloak sent from heaven. It fit perfectly in her line of view. It was his old jacket. The one he gave to her. She slowly walked over to it, her hand out in front. She felt like she had to walk slowly, as if it were a baby animal, or else it would disappear into the dark, attic surroundings. It was dusty. But it was his. She wrapped her small slender fingers around it and brought it close to her face. Even after all these years, its still spelled like him.
"What if I saw him again, what would I say?" Hungary looked up and smiled at her self-aimed question. "Where have you been, or, gee, haven't seen you in a while." She chuckled quietly. Then her eyes went towards the floor. He was gone now. Any chance of talking to him were hopeless. The old, wooden, attic floor became blurry as something wet formed in her eyes. She knew what they were, but she couldn't bring herself to acknowledge them. Hungary brought the old coat closer and breathed in the scent. It smelled of old cologne, beer, and the woods. It was a strange smell. But it was his smell. The smell that left when he left. His voice left, his smile left, his over-use of the word 'awesome' left. Wait, was left really the right word here? No, it wasn't, was it? He never left her, he'd always be with her. The correct word was disappear. He had disappeared.
Hungary's tears seemed to increase. The wrapping the Prussian once wore was now soaked with her tears. "No!" she cried, "No! You can't be gone!" her sobs turned into wails. She was now missing her old best friend. She didn't realize, however, that she always missed him. He never actually left her heart. He was always there. And he always would be.
The day his brother spoke up at the world meeting changed her life forever. It was about three years ago, and all the German blonde said was "He's gone". The whole room was full of tears and sniffling. She didn't cry, she was too strong to cry. She never actually cried over him. This was the first time. Because of her years of holding back, every emotion that she ever felt for him was pouring out of her like a waterfall. She felt every emotion one can feel for another when it came to him. Trust, annoyance, anger, amusement, and more. The amazing thing is, all these emotions turned into one thing, one little word, but huge meaning, the most powerful of them all, Love.
Hungary held the his jacket closer, it felt as if she were hugging him himself. He was so close, but yet so far. The hungarian then muttered four words she, (and nobody else in that matter) thought she would ever say. "I love you, Prussia."