AN: This is it... the end of this story. I don't know how I feel about this...
DISCLAIMER: Neither Hetalia, nor 'Someone Like You' belong to me.
Part Seven
1900
"Did it help?"
"Fuck no."
December 31st, 1898
The last one, he tells himself, the last trip. He has said this every time he comes back.
That look, that happy look the musician wore, is burned into his conscience. It used to be his look, and his alone.
Only he got to make Roderich smile.
He rings in the New Year in a shabby tavern in Vienna's back streets, among sad drunks and penniless loners, ordering glass after glass of whatever they'll give him.
But that perfect Christmas someone else had in his place haunts him, and the perfect New Year someone else was having at the moment makes him sick.
He swears to himself it's the alcohol.
1900
"I used to come back... just to... just to see you, be near you. Just being in the same damn city... I don't know... Fuck, I didn't mean to say that, that was meant to stay secret."
"I know already."
1900
They are having dessert, some ridiculously fancy cake.
He watches from outside as she convinces him to give her the last piece. When they kiss, he looks away.
1900
The happy couple on another walk, through a park this time.
He's lucky there are so many trees around.
1900
They're in the music room. He knows this room like the back of his hand, every nook, every cranny.
She's with him as he plays, scales and arpeggios first, elegant fingers running up and down the keyboard without a flaw in sight.
She is transfixed, as she should be, but leaves after around an hour and a half.
The pianist is alone now.
He watches intently as Roderich begins to play. The piece in F Major is familiar.
Schumann. A German composer. He has heard Roderich play this many times, but today it just feels... different. It takes him a minute to remember the name.
Maybe it's because he is not sitting in the music room, attempting to distract the musician. Maybe it's because he is out here instead, separated by a barely open glass window, perched haphazardly on a tall tree.
He finds himself edging closer and closer to the window as he listens. The music seems wistful, each note played with perfect precision.
The emotion that Roderich played with has always been remarkable.
The final chords of the song are slower, more careful. Roderich seems to linger on the last note, just a little too long, just a little too soft.
He finds that he's opened the window wide, he's come into the room, and that Roderich has turned to face him, scowling. Some dream...
"Will you never leave me alone you insufferable idiot."
Of course... of course Roderich knew. He always knew...
He feels his lips curling into a smile, a real smile, for what feels like the first time in 36 years.
It's just so... damn typical.
"Träumerei." he says simply.
Roderich nods, a careful smile just touching his lips, but he keeps his distance.
"Dreaming."
"You always did like Schumann."
"German composers... many of them are geniuses."
They stand there, frozen once again, but this time it is in a happier place, one that he wishes he had never left.
"She told me to stay away."
"You didn't."
"Did you want me to?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"You know. You always know."
"This time... I don't."
"I don't care."
He always used to think that Roderich knew god damn everything about him.
It takes one look into the musician's eyes at this point to realise that it is in fact the other way round.
The kiss comes exactly as he expects. There is a faint bitterness, a taste of salt that taints the kiss, and it lasts for just a second, with only the lightest of touches.
But it means something.
He sees the faint trail of tears left behind on Roderich's somber face, and knows there are matching ones on his own.
"You need to go Gilbert."
It takes everything he has to turn and walk away, as his feet are heavy.
He reaches the door and turns back, to find the musician is watching him, fists clenched, with a look unreadable to even him etched on his aristocratic features.
"Just one more thing, Roddy." he says with feigned lightheartedness, but even he can hear the tinge of defeat
"You never did tell me... are you happy?"
I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited
But I couldn't stay away,
I couldn't fight it
I had hoped you'd see my face
And that you'd be reminded that for me
It isn't over
Never mind, I'll find someone like you
I wish nothing but the best for you too
Don't forget me, I beg
I remember you said,
"Sometimes it lasts in love
But sometimes it hurts instead,
Sometimes it lasts in love
But sometimes it hurts instead
So guys... this is the end /HUGS YOU ALL. I hope you've enjoyed this fic! I've loved writing it. I've poured my heart and soul into this. I actually feel kind of devastated finishing it. Oh gosh... just /no feelings to describe this.
So the future of Roderich and Gilbert... I plan to not so much continue their story so to say, but provide a companion fic through Roderich's eyes entitled 'Turning Tables'. Thank you all for sticking with me through my first multi-chapter Hetalia fic!
EDIT: Turning Tables is now up on my profile, along with a sequel oneshot entitled Somebody That I Used to Know.