Kindness

It had been twenty years since that day. Marriages had been inducted; peace reinstated; love flowed freely in the world yet again.

Everyone was happy again. Everyone except the Austrian.

He wore only black and never left his home except to wander aimlessly around the gardens. He rarely spoke and barely ate, and his mind had deteriorated into a shattered mess of grief. Roderich's body persisted doggedly, but the man himself was gone, just like his lover.

One night, soft footsteps sounded in the huge bedroom Roderich lay in, wide awake, the sheen of tears stark against his skin in the pale moonlight. The country turned weakly to the visitor and began to cry yet again. Ludwig could never learn when to let demons lie. The burly man had a letter in his hand and a sheepish look on his strong features as he whispered, "I-I was hoping you'd come..." He handed over the envelope expectantly, watching the Austrian for any sudden changes in temperament. The country had not been known to have the easiest temper these past years. Anything could send him into an emotional hurricane.

Luckily, the Austrian simply took the letter and opened it up soundlessly, eyes lethargically scanning the ornate stationary before he slumped back into the pillows, his expression unfathomable. Ludwig tried, "So, will you come, Roderich? It would mean a lot to both Veneziano and me."

Roderich breathed, "If I come, do I get to kill him, too?"

The question stung like a slap, "Roderich, it wasn't my fault. You know that. It was Ivan. Ivan! Not me, alright?"

"You knew he was there."

"…"

"You knew he had a pistol."

"…"

"And yet you just let him shoot him." The Austrian shot up, trembling with rage, "YOU LET HIM KILL YOUR BROTHER! YOU LET HIM KILL GILBERT!"

"Please, Roderich. What could I have done?" Ludwig begged, guilty tears running down his own face. There wasn't a day he didn't hate himself for letting Ivan kill Gilbert. He didn't understand why he'd let the Russian catch his beautiful brother in his crosshairs, but he had. It had been a catastrophic day for all involved, surely, but none had been so devastated at Roderich. The man had sat at the blood-soaked altar with his crimson bride for twenty-four hours, when the paramedics got tired of waiting and loaded them both into the ambulance. Even then, Roderich was holding Gilbert's lifeless body, tears running down his face.

Roderich cried, "I don't know, Ludwig, but you could've done something! You and Ivan ruined my future! I can never, ever have him again, do you know that? I am stuck without him. That's something I will never be able to forgive you for, so stop asking."

Ludwig hugged the Austrian tightly and murmured, "We all miss him."

Roderich scoffed, "None more than me. I've been mourning him for twenty years, Ludwig."

"As have I. I miss him, you have to believe me, but we have to move on. I'm doing you this kindness, so please appreciate it."

"'Kindness'? Well, if this hell is 'kindness' then I never want to see heaven."

"Roderich?"

"Get out."

The absence of one country does not change the movement of the Earth. It will still turn upon its Axis, strong and eternal, even if all the nations were to be gone.

Roderich knows this, and yet cannot believe it.

For his world is no longer turning.