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Chapter Four : Spanish Adobe
The memories of the previous days were still fresh in his mind and he almost believed they'd be fresh for the rest of his life. Now, he was sitting in his office, figuring on where to go and what to do. He had kicked Italy out of his life and he assumed the only man that was his friend would be gone forever. No one else seemed to like the strict German very much. Even as a child he wasn't liked by many people and he didn't know why. With a deep breath he gathered himself up and went to the door. He stared at the handle for the longest time trying to think of places to go until a thought struck him. The battlefield. But where was that? Gilbert had always called home, but Germany never asked where he was. He was too worried about how his older brother was fairing with the weather and conditions of war rather than the location of it, need he have to go and save him. However, he had a feeling that he knew someone who would be able to find out where the battlefield was or might even know without having to search. Spain. Without another second wasted, Germany turned the knob and headed out for the other man's home.
"Oh, hey there Germany," said the man at the door of a rather eloquent home. It wasn't like Germany's at all, but rather it was more lively and happy than neat and orderly. However, even though the normally happy owner of the house kept the vibrant place alive even with the designs on the ceilings and walls everything seemed depressed. Walking into the house was like walking into a cemetery where people were grieving. Which was exactly what Spain was doing. The Spanish man had lost one of his closest friends, someone he had grown up with and caused so much trouble amongst. Germany walked into the silent home and stared at the walls. He knew that if he said anything the Spanish man would more than likely burst into tears. Spain was described as a happy and cheerful man, passionate and considerate. Yet, he tended to be a little bit too passionate about some things – death, as they all now learned, was one of them.
"How can I help you mi amigo?" Spain said, closing the door as he turned to face the man who was looking at his home. Normally, Germany would have planned out what he would say when he had gotten himself into a situation that wasn't easy to deal with. Now, it was merely just trying his best to think on his feet. The wrong word could send Spain in tears, or doing something stupid, and Germany wasn't sure if he could handle stupid or tears at the moment.
"Vell, you see, ve need to talk. About Prussia. If you please," he said getting straight to the point. That was the type of personality he had; blunt and straightforward. He didn't know how to sugar coat things or not tell the whole truth, which probably was why so many of the other countries disliked him so much, viewing him as mean and cruel.
He looked horrible. His normal smooth brown hair was messy and it appeared dirty. He questioned if Spain had found the energy to get himself into a shower the last few days. Spain looked at Germany, green eyes wide as he tried to understand the words which had just left the other man's lips. Though, it shouldn't have been too surprising, seeing as Spain had been there a lot during Germany's upraising, mostly since he was raising an orphan of his own. Spain had raised Romano, Italy's older brother, while Austria raised Italy. It was rather normal for Spain to bring Romano over for a 'play date' when the two were just barely out of toddlerhood.
"What do you want to talk about?" he said, trying to recoil from the sudden bluntness he wasn't exactly ready for.
"I vant to know if you know vhere ze battlefield vas or if you knew how Prussia died," he said as he felt the air in the room still. This wasn't a conversation that should be held in a foyer, but rather an office and Spain, who was horrible at reading the air, felt this and gestured for Germany to follow him.
"No, I don't. I had no idea that Prussia had gone to war at all. The last time I talked to him was half a year ago. That crazy hombre hardly told me anything other than the good old days," Spain replied, seeming shocked to hear the news that his best friend had died in battle. It was more shocking still to him that Gilbert was gone, but at the moment the shock of secrecy was more potent. Germany stared at him, his expression wiped of the shock he felt. How could the other man, who was such a good friend to Gilbert, not know that he was in trouble? But, then again, he didn't put it past Gilbert not to tell Spain. Antonio Carriedo was one of the biggest airheads that Germany knew, aside from Italy of course. He was immune to negative things and he couldn't read the atmosphere in any situation. He was always positive and happy, and sometimes even more passionate than France. He also had a thing for Romano, but of course every country already knew that.
It almost seemed like the right idea to not tell Spain. Prussia wasn't one to worry others with his problems, which was more or less the reason why every time there was an issue he stated he was so awesome he could do anything. And about 99% of the time everyone believed that there was nothing wrong and Prussia was just letting his ego get the better of him. Germany looked to the door which he had recently entered and then back to Spain. What was he supposed to say to the other grieving man? That he felt his pain and he was there if he needed him? If he did say that it would be a lie. Germany found he couldn't even be there for himself, so trying to be there for someone else was insane and irrational. He didn't even know how the other man felt. He knew how he felt, but he didn't know what Spain felt. Saying anything of comfort would be the wrong thing to say and so the younger man sighed.
"Do you know who might know?" he asked quietly, the room getting suddenly quiet. There had nothing to bring noise to it before, but something in the air had made the room eerily quiet now. Spain looked at his desk which he leaned against and closed his eyes. It seemed like the talk was causing him too much pain, but Germany was determined to find out how and where his brother had died. If he could, he'd have avoided the whole conversation if he had someone else to turn to, but truthfully he couldn't think of anyone.
"Francis might know," Spain said directly speaking of France as he reopened his eyes. He hadn't thought to think of the Frenchman. He, too, was also very close to Gilbert, yet in the recent years it seemed they had drifted a bit. However, despite their outward appearances, Germany knew that Gilbert and France was so tight a crowbar would have an issue getting the two apart. He mentally slapped himself for not thinking of it sooner and nodded to the Spaniard. He wasn't able to get the exact words out but Germany was extremely thankful for the information.
"I'll…invite you to dinner tomorrow evening," Germany said, his way of saying thanks. He watched as Spain's face lit up in a sad smile and then slowly into a brighter one. The man was starting to see that the world wasn't as dark as he thought and nodded to Germany's offer.
"Then, I'll see you then. Adios mi hermano," he said with a soft wave of his hand as Germany turned to leave for France's home.
Translations
Spanish: Mi amigo
English: My friend
Spanish: Hombre
English: Man
Spanish: Adios mi hermano
English: Goodbye my brother
