Hello! I apologize for this long programmed hiatus but I had a lot of trouble at home and at school and just didn't have any inspiration or time left for writing. Anyway, this is a quick OS about PruAus because this idea wouldn't leave my mind.
I'll update The Earl and his demon as soon as I can, it's almost nearing its end with two to three chapter left to go, maybe four. After that I'll probably start another story. I'll probably continue my genderbending work because I really think that it deserve more love. Why have such wonderful stories with the original characters (yaoi, yuri or het) and only poorly written ones with their opposite sex conterparts?
Anyway, enjoy this OS and once again I'm sorry for my disappearance!
Disclaimer : I don't own Hetalia
Julchen had always been a people person, she usually craved company either with her younger brother or her two best friends, Francis and Antonio. But sometimes, as unbelievable as it may seem to some, she wanted to be left alone and disappeared in "Music Room #3". Nobody knew and she wanted to keep it that way. Classical music was made for stuck-up bastards like Roderick Edelstein, a goody-two shoes, not for people like her. Julchen was the kind of girl who spent more time in detention than at home, for the most ridiculous reason ever, one of the them being painting a giant chick on the school's front wall.
Julchen was trouble, a beautiful and powerful storm, loud and majestic. She should be strong and yet, she felt like an over flowing sink of emotions, unable to take in anything anymore. She was tired, tired of being compared to her younger brother. She loved Ludwig but she'll never be him. She'll never be the golden child of the family, top his class, track team captain, student council president and perfect son. She'll never be Ludwig, she wasn't serious enough. She was herself, she was Julchen. A male figure entered the room and sat in front of the piano taking the girl's silence as acceptance.
Julchen took her flute, a simple wooden little thing, and started playing. She played and the silence was filled with silver notes. She played with her cheap flute in the fancy music room. She played her feeling, she played a concerto of Julchen. And Julchen was free and wild, she was the violence in the pouring rain. She was the night, she was the wind. She was the roughness in her leather jacket. She closed her eyes, shutting herself from the harsh unforgiving world and played her melancholia in re-minor. Roderick soon joined her letting his long fingers run freely on the ivory keys of his instruments. They weren't humans anymore, they were a glowing symphony.
The albino was ashamed of this addiction to music, because music was associated in her mind to that Austrian elitist. Addiction to music meant addiction to Roderick and it couldn't be true. She chastised herself because of it yet when she couldn't handle the way things went anymore, the empty corridors were filled with her sorrowful melodies. Maybe Roderick was a frigid iceberg, maybe Julchen was a burning inferno but together, they were waterfall. They played like a single entity and, without them noticing, the tune changed. It was new, it was fresh, it was tender, it seemed to make the whole building shiver, it was euphoria in re-major. The music was like a kiss, loving and amazing, a bonfire lit in their souls but when it was over they stood like nothing happened, ready to part ways. It was the end of their ten minutes love affair.
She was red with passion and wrath, he was blue with sadness and poetry. Their hands touched and suddenly they were a darkening lilac sky slowly morphing into the purple of Roderick's eyes. For a second the Austrian thought about kissing his partner, for a moment Julchen was about to let her emotion toward the pianist flow. But no. They were only there for music, it was the curse of their melancholia in re minor.
It would be like that almost every day, they would meet in silence and start playing whatever tune came to their mind, ignoring each other purposefully, each one having a picture of himself to protect in the others' eyes. The music room wasn't a place for feelings to be born, it's barely a catalyst to the one they already have. You enter feeling bad, you play, and it's over. Nothing less nothing more. But the two seniors were lying to themselves: there was so much more. There were colors and sparks, a strange world only musician knew opened itself to them. They were alone in the immensity of the world, waves crashing, thunder roaring, wind blowing as they filled the silent halls of their high school with Mozart and Chopin.
Senior year was nearing its end as summer was slowly transforming the landscape of the small town that hosted Hetalia International School (HIS). Everyone seemed delighted, smiles blooming on every face, happiness radiating from ever youth. Yet, Julchen couldn't help but feel saddened by it. High school was over and she wouldn't see Antonio and Francis face to face for a few year. High school was over and she'll head back to Germany to study engineering in a military school. And even if she couldn't bring herself to admit it had shaken her: there would be no more musical meetings, the secret of Music Room #3 would disappear and nobody would be there to brighten the lonely corridors with classical music. Everything would be over.
That afternoon, right after their last class, Roderick sat alone in front of the piano, waiting. He'd leave for Austria the next day for the summer and land directly in New York for his studies at Julliard after that. He'd miss graduation. That was his last chance to see her. His last chance to hold her close and shower her with the affection he hold back the whole year. He had so many plans in mind but there were all thrown away the moment the albino entered the room, her rough masculine steps heading toward her usual seat. Roderick Edelstein was still a coward.
The air around them and the music felt strange that day, almost bitter as if it was aware of the end of this little adventure. Their eyes met for the first time and the music, the walls themselves shook from the intensity of their gaze. Hell, Roderick shook, a shiver he couldn't quite call pleasing ran through his spine under the ruby eyes of his music partners. The room resonated with Beethoven and Debussy, as golden and silver notes flyed around them slowly spiraling toward the ceiling. The Austrian was too caught up in the gracious and swift movements of his hands on the ivory keys to notice that the flute had stopped and that the young woman who played it was now seated next to him on the bench. He only seemed to notice his surroundings when the albino crashed her surprisingly soft lips against his own, creating another kind of music. Stars exploded in colorful shreds and sparks as their moved in sync, adopting a strangely familiar pattern, like an old dance they almost forgot. But soon, air was needed and they broke apart, both turning into blushing messes with ragged breaths and fingers caught up in the other's hair.
"Have fun in Austria, specs'!"
And those were the last words he ever heard from Julchen, as she got up, throwing her bag across her shoulder and closing the door behind her. She let herself fall to the floor, back to the cold white wall. It was over. Their adventure was over after reaching its climax, an explosion of colors and sounds. They had a two minutes love affair and would probably never meet again. That's the beauty of music it's authentic but ephemeral, beauty is ephemeral.
A full decade had past and Roderick is standing in front of a mirror adjusting his tie. Today was a big day, the first day of the rest of his life. Today was his wedding to the most beautiful, strong and adorable woman on earth: Elizaveta Hedevary. That woman was a gift from god. She was nice and carefree, part of a famous swimming club and a strong independent woman that reminded him sometimes of a young german he had known.
When she walked toward the altar and him, he almost teared up at the sight of such grace and beauty. That must be love, right? To accept all her flaws and still find her so wonderful. It wasn't a problem if they weren't any stars of rainbow colored sparks when he kissed the brunettes, he must love her. She had been his girlfriend for six long years and everything went smoothly almost dreamlike. He smiled at his lovely bride but his expression fastly darkened at the sight of a horrifically familiar visage in the crowd of friends and family. Violet eyes first noticed pale skin, accentuated by a midnight blue (no, Prussian blue) dress, then snow white hair and red flaming orbs burning him with the intensity they carried. A ghost of his past, the trace and echo of a love that never bloomed. He couldn't hear the rain outside of the church or the priest's voice anymore. Every sound was blurred in favor of the music that slowly emerged from his memory, a tune he didn't think he'd every think about ever again.
As he came back to his senses he realized that the young woman was nowhere to be seen. Had he dreamed? No, he could see a small piece of dark blue fabric slowly drifting away from the door, leaving him with his future. He knew he shouldn't throw away his chance of happiness for another taste of the drive of being with Julia Maria Bielschmidt but at that moment, he couldn't bring himself to care. He was a musician, an artist, he should leave in the moment, and he should follow what truly mattered to him even if it was an obnoxious albino that ignored him for the past ten years.
"Do you, Roderick Edelstein, take Elizaveta Hedevary as your rightful wife?"
He was in a dead end. He looked into his bride's large bright forest green eyes, pools of love and worry at his strange behavior and suddenly, hesitation was gone, replaced by conviction.
"I'm sorry"
He ran. He ran like he always did but for the first time, he ran in the right direction. The rain was pouring heavily outside and he was drenched as soon as he put a single foot in the courtyard. His eyes roamed his surrounding looking for the woman that had just brightened and darkened his life at the same time. He screamed a frustration and ran his long fingers through his dark locks. He didn't want to lose her another time.
"Looking for me, specs'?"
He turned around and met the smirk he was never truly able to forget on the lips whose taste remained on his mind weeks after their kiss. Julchen was there, standing in all her messy glory, legs slightly spread like some kind of solider, hands clad behind her back and ruined make up running on her face, making her look like some kind of monster. He probably looked just as horrible but he couldn't bring himself to care as he grabbed her by the wrist to press his lips to hers in the messiest kiss he ever had, it was all raw passion and uncontrolled feelings as their teeth clashed against each other awkwardly.
They broke apart and looked at each other, for real. The woman looked like a drenched rat but Roderick could see all the beauty that made her who she really was: the mischief in her crimson eyes, the scar on her cheek, the callouses on her fingers and the slight curve of her upper lips. He loved her and he'd worship every inch of her too pale body. He looked like a horrible in his wet fancy three piece suit, with glasses covered in small droplets of water and messy hair. He looked horrible and it was perfect. She could really see his beauty now: the way her ruined lipstick lingered on his own lips after their heated kiss, the small mole under his eye and the smile he desperately tried to fight back.
"You missed me, didn't you?"
He adjusted his glasses with disdainful snort.
"Of course not, you ruined my wedding"
She smirked and throw a biker helmet at him that he almost missed.
"Quit your bitching, Roderick, it was awful and you should thank the awesome me for saving you"
The man couldn't help but smile genuinely and imitated her as she put the helmet on. She climbed on her motorcycle and motioned to him to climb behind her. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, where he put a hot wet kiss before whispering, no purring in her slowly reddening ear.
"I'll have all the time in the world to thank you in many different ways back at your place, katzchen"
"Screw you, four eyes"
"If you insist"
Now, It was Roderick turn to smirk. Julchen quickly started the engine before she could melt at his wordsand the two of them rode toward freedom as a new tune was slowly being built in their mind, ready to be played as soon as they could : Passion in do-minor.