The Insane Accounts

A Hetalia story.

IMPORTANT

So hiii guys! I'm going to explain this once. Each chapter is a stand alone story. None of them have reference to the other. Each chapter will tell a different story, and will be clearly marked on who it is and so on and so forth. Enjoy!

Germany: Life With A Not So Real Person

I wake up at six o'clock, putting my alarm clock to shame by rising earlier than it is supposed to alert me. I dress myself accordingly in my snug military attire, making sure all the metals are polished precisely. There is no particular reason behind my outfit. As Italy puts it, I dress to impress. Who I'm impressing is lost on me.

Once the clothes are settled in their appropriate position, I make my bed without the slightest imperfection. I untuck a Luger from underneath my pillow, placing the gun within a hidden holster on my person. Old habits die hard. I never leave home without a weapon. I even attend World Conferences with it. I never feel safe unless I know it's within reach. I'm always on edge. World War 2 made me that way.

I don't bother with breakfast. I have to get to work fairly early. Japan and Italy are coming over, strictly for business, and I'm always an hour early.

"Hey West! Where you goin'?" My brother's form greets me in the living room. He looks no different than he did during the war, with that huge grin plastered on his face and his red eyes gleaming. I wonder vaguely why he is up so early.

"Meeting." I reply curtly, going to the door.

"Can I come to? It's not a party without the awesome me!"

"Nein. It's not meant to be a party." He frowns.

"You need your awesome big brother there." Prussia states, that indefinite smirk no longer present. He is serious. It's moments like this that I hate to disobey his orders or his wishes.

"You can come. Only if you stay quiet."

"Awesome!" He jumps up from the couch, the grin rematerializing.

We walked to the place of choice for our meeting, because it is only a mile away and Prussia had failed to fill up the car with gas. We had a brotherly chatter going on, confusing some people as we walked by. It's like they never seen two brothers talking before. A few times, he even managed to make me laugh. It's rare for me to do so. Usually only him and Italy can make me crack a smile. Prussia is normally the only person who makes me laugh. Most of the time, I laugh because of his laugh. It always amuses me, even as a kid. The 'Kesesesese!' never got old.

"Is this the place West?" He motions to a little coffee shop that I had abruptly stopped in front of.

"Ja."

"Don't you think you're gonna scare everyone away? You look like you're gonna shoot everyone! Kesesese!" I smile, just a little.

"I think they can grow accustomed. Come on."

I order two drinks, much to the cashier's confusion. She keeps insisting that two coffees would be too much for me because they are very powerful. I explain several times that one of them was for my brother, and even point to the seat he was occupying. She never understood though. I brought the coffee over to Prussia. He takes one sip, and frowns.

"Awww come on West you know I like cappuccinos better than coffee!"

"Sorry. Slipped my mind." I sip my coffee as he pouts.

Italy and Japan join right on time. Italy takes it upon himself to crowd into my side of the booth, while Japan neatly sits by my brother. Folding his hands in his lap, the Japanese man proceeds to scoot to the middle, crushing my brother in the process.

"Westttttt help!" Prussia speaks, trying not to shove him away.

"Be mindful of Prussia, Japan." I warn him.

Japan's eyebrows knit together in confusion, before scooting away.

"Ahhh that's better."

"What is doitsu talking about?" Italy cocks his head, gazing up at me.

"I was only pointing out that Japan was squishing Prussia." I take another sip of coffee.

My allies' eyes meet at once, like the other one held the answers. Honestly I don't know what has gotten into everyone. They are acting as though as I have lost my mind.

The meeting went well. It turned out to be more of a reunion instead of a diplomatic discussion. Around one o'clock we disband, waving each other goodbye and repeat promises that we will catch up again later. Italy looks almost concerned when I turn to reprimand my brother for an inappropriate comment. The walk home is the same as it was before. We just spoke to one another, recollecting fond memories of past wars and fallen foes. Usually Prussia is with his friends, or off fighting so kind of fool's battle. It is nice every once in a while to be able to speak like this. We get to do it more often now, since warfare has been a thing of the past for several years now.

Once we arrive home, he starts a drinking contest. By supper, he is too drunken out of his mind to eat, so I carry him to his room like a dutiful brother and let him sleep off the soon to be hangover. I eat supper in silence, and retire to bed. Again, I find myself beating my alarm clock. I have a habit of doing that, and I have yet to break it. Prussia wasn't up yet. But that's not what bothered me. Someone was knocking on the door.

I went to go answer it.

I am shocked. Standing before me was not only Japan and Italy, but the entirety of the Allies, plus Spain and Romano. It is odd for all of to be seen together.

"Do you need something?" I hesitantly speak, searching for the answer on each of their faces.

"Doitsu. We need to talk to you." Italy sounded... so serious. It is completely unlike him.

I open up my home to the fellow countries, allowing them free range of my living room. They all came there for a single purpose that much was evident. It's almost like they were there… for emotional support. Like that one day after World War 2… were they had forced fed me lies about a fallen country.

Italy wraps his soft hands around mine, bringing me to sit beside him on the couch, allowing everyone else to watch.

"You need to stop." He speaks softly, almost shakingly.

"Stop what?" I'm clueless.

"You need to stop pretending he's here mi amigo." Spain steps in, pain written on his face.

"I agree mon ami. You are hurting yourself by doing it." France adds, deepening my confusion.

"Pretending whose here?"

"Prussia." Japan says helpfully, although I'm still not making any sense of it.

"I'm not pretending he's here. He's in his bedroom, drunk out of his mind."

"Dude... He didn't survive World War 2."

"What do you mean?"

"He died. Gilbert Beilschmidt has been dead this entire time."

-Soul Spirit-