Although I usually give all my reviewers a review reply, I just wanted to say it again: Thank you all so, so much for reading and commenting on this story! I know I say it a lot, but it really does mean a lot to me that you take the time to do so. It makes me feel like these stories actually have a purpose~ XD
When I look at my story stats and see readers from different countries clicking on my profile/stories, I picture the Hetalia characters on the computer frowning at my fanfiction thinking, "What the--?!"
Anonymous Review reply:
VelgaAltair: (*Gilbo high-fives back*) Hope you are feeling better! Feliciano's greatest weapon is the Hug!bear XD Alfred and Gilbert would probably either the best of friends or rivals if they ever interact in the manga. Either that or Alfred would be all, "Prussia? What's Prussia? Where's that? *looks at American map*" I would've felt bad for making him collapse in the middle of it. Besides, I wanted them to perform that song; it's one of my favorites! Thank you for reviewing!
Soundtrack: ---
It had been a month since the Bad Company Trio performed on the boardwalk. It was almost unbelievable how the tallest skyscrapers could crumble down, how twenty-two thousand troops were defeated after a bloody, gallant battle, and how the wealth of health could go broke in such a short period of time.
Dr. Braginski finally let Gilbert return home. After much negotiation between the doctor and Gilbert's father, it was finally decided: Gilbert was going back. As much as the entire family was thankful for that, they couldn't help but feel a sinking sensation inside of them.
Mr. Beilschmidt knocked lightly on Gilbert's bedroom door. He heard a soft reply and opened the door. Gilbert was sitting up, leaning his back on the wall while reading the last book on his list—The Things They Carried. Gilbird was sleeping on top of Gilbert's tousled head.
"Hey, Vatti," Gilbert greeted in a tired voice.
"Good morning, son," Mr. Beilschmidt said. He picked up discarded clothes and blankets off the ground. "How have you been feeling?"
"Fine," Gilbert said simply. "You don't have to clean up."
"You can't live in a bedroom that's a pigsty," Mr. Beilschmidt said as he threw the clothes in a hamper and folded the blankets.
"If I couldn't, it would've been my natural instinct to clean it up myself," Gilbert pointed out. "When you tidy up my room, I can never find anything."
"I'm surprised you can ever find anything," said Mr. Beilschmidt lightly. "Is there anything you need?"
"I'm fine," Gilbert assured him.
"If you're hungry or thirsty or cold—"
"I know, I know. Bug West," Gilbert finished. "I do that on a regular basis."
"Ludwig isn't here right now," Mr. Beilschmidt said regretfully. "He had to work one last day before he can take a vacation."
"Okay," said Gilbert, shrugging.
"I have to go to work now," Mr. Beilschmidt sighed. "I wish I didn't but—"
"Don't worry about it, Vatti," Gilbert said, giving him a grin.
"Don't forget to rest your eyes from reading," Mr. Beilschmidt told Gilbert.
"Okay, got it," was Gilbert's cursory reply. Mr. Beilschmidt gripped Gilbert's shoulder. Gilbert patted his father on the back.
"Better get going or you'll be late," Gilbert reminded him.
Mr. Beilschmidt nodded silently. He made his way to the door before pausing right as he was about to exit. He turned back, quickly kissed Gilbert on the forehead and dashed off. Gilbert was surprised at first and a little happy; his father was not one to show affection. However, he couldn't help but feel doleful because he knew why his father suddenly became demonstrative.
After a couple minutes of reading Gilbert felt too faint to continue on. It was becoming harder and harder to read now that he was constantly plagued with bouts of dizziness and pain. He had only nine-tenths of a book left and he was stuck in a rut.
He placed the book on the nightstand and pressed the heels of his hands against his tired eyes. He could feel Gilbird shift on top of his head. He picked up the bird gently off its nest and cradled it in his hands. It was still drowsy and nuzzled into Gilbert's bony hands.
Would that bird ever grow into a chicken?
Gilbert chuckled at the thought of it. He couldn't possibly picture tiny little Gilbird growing up into a large, brown chicken. Or rooster. He couldn't remember which.
Gilbert coughed violently, nearly dropping Gilbird. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and bit his lip. He could taste blood in his mouth. He put Gilbird onto the table and grimaced before swallowing it down. There was no rushing to the ER this time. As if they could do anything about it.
He glanced down at the digital alarm clock. At least this one did not tick forever. It only flashed bright green light and play the radio if Gilbert wanted it to.
He slowly lied down, letting his arm curve to the ground. Even though he hadn't been in his own room for months, he felt like he had always stayed here. Why was that so?
His fingers grazed against a cardboard box under his bed. Curious, he pulled it out from under and immediately remembered. He swallowed hard as he ran his finger across the top of the box. He had been hoping that he would never open it. He was almost certain a month ago that he would escape the choice, but now the hope seemed bleak.
He tried to picture everyone's faces when they realized. Would they be happy? Heartbroken? Upset? He had no idea, and he wasn't sure if he would ever find out. Would he be able to know if that was the case?
Why can't you just do it face-to-face?
Gilbert chuckled in spite of himself.
It was such a simple question, yet he didn't know how to answer it.
I'll try.
But he couldn't promise anything anymore.
Yet Gilbert doubted that he could tell them face-to-face. He didn't think he was strong enough to look them straight in the eye and tell them all the things that he wanted to say. Not without breaking down and making things worse.
And what if he hesitated and skipped out?
Gilbert slowly opened the box. The thick tape ripped off, thin shreds of brown paper clinging onto it. He pushed away the flaps and pulled out the video camera and three tapes. His hands shook. He was scared. He didn't want to do this, but what else could he do?
What if there was no chance?
Gilbert pulled a permanent marker out of the box and slowly wrote on the paper label on the tapes. How long would Ludwig be gone? He probably wouldn't come back home until three in the afternoon. It was eleven in the morning. Gilbert had plenty of time.
He threw the marker aside and took a deep breath. He opened one of the tapes and snapped it inside the video camera.
Was there any chance to back out now?
Why would he even want to back out?
Gilbert closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.
I'm sorry.
Who was he talking to?
Everyone.
Why?
Gilbert opened his eyes and gazed down at the video camera.
Because even I am accepting it.
He turned on the video camera.
Ludwig threw his car keys on the kitchen island before running up the stairs. Gilbert was finally home! Ludwig was nervous with excitement as he nearly tripped up the stairs. How long had it been since Gilbert last stayed in his bedroom? Ludwig had lost count of the weeks.
Ludwig was so jittery that he almost forgot to knock on the door first before entering. When he spotted Gilbert in his bedroom, he rushed over and enveloped him in a bear hug.
"West!" Gilbert cried out, hugging Ludwig. Gilbert was so small in Ludwig's arms; Ludwig was afraid that if he wasn't careful he might accidentally snap all of Gilbert's bones.
"Welcome back home, Bruder," Ludwig murmured.
"Thanks," Gilbert said, ruffling Ludwig's hair. Ludwig tried to smooth it down again. "Tell me what's new."
"Nothing," Ludwig said. "How are you feeling?"
"Come on, West, you ask me this every time you see me," said Gilbert. "Seriously, tell me what's going on lately. How's work? How's Feli? How are the dogs? I couldn't really reunite with them because Dad carried me up here right after I came back."
"Blackie, Berlitz, and Auster are doing fine," Ludwig said. "Work is as vigorous as ever. My boss is getting rather uptight and bossy. He wants the job done meticulously."
"Sounds like a certain younger brother," Gilbert said, smirking. Ludwig chuckled and pushed Gilbert teasingly. "What about Feli and Kiku? Hung out with them lately?"
"Yeah, we went bowling one night with some others," Ludwig said. "We competed against Arthur, Alfred, Yao, and Francis."
"Who won?" asked Gilbert.
"We were winning at first, but then they made a comeback and beat us," admitted Ludwig.
"Aw, darn," laughed Gilbert. "You—you tried your best." He cleared his throat before he was attacked with another coughing fit.
"Do you need some water?" asked Ludwig.
"I'm all right," Gilbert muttered. He put a cold hand on his eyes and tried to relax. "Help me sit up, won't you?"
"Why?" asked Ludwig.
"Because lying down too long makes me feel lazy. Please?" Gilbert gave Ludwig the irresistible puppy eyes. Ludwig groaned and reluctantly helped Gilbert sit up. He wormed his arm under Gilbert's shoulders and gently pulled him up, keeping a tight grip on Gilbert's thin shoulders. Gilbert leaned against Ludwig, his head resting on Ludwig's shoulder. He could barely sit up on his own.
"Is that better?" Ludwig asked.
"Mm," Gilbert mumbled, closing his eyes. Ludwig laid his cheek on Gilbert's white hair and held him tight, afraid that Gilbert might slip from his arms.
"I feel like a helpless maiden," Gilbert grumbled. Ludwig chuckled and held him tight in both arms.
"'Ay me, how weak a thing the heart of woman is!'" quoted Ludwig.
"Et tu, West?" Gilbert said, grinning. He reached up and ruffled Ludwig's hair.
"Do you need anything, Bruder?" West asked.
"Just stay with me," Gilbert murmured. "Tell me more about the other kids. Did Arthur get into Oxford like he wanted?"
"Yes, he did," Ludwig said. "He got accepted a while ago, actually. I just never remembered to tell you."
"Geez, West, you're losing it," Gilbert teased. "Do you have the memory of an old man? You sure act like one."
"I would've remembered if you asked earlier," Ludwig defended himself.
"Whatever you say," Gilbert said lazily. "Man, he must've been ecstatic. He has his whole future laid out in front of him now. I bet Alfred is sad that Artie is going to leave him behind in high school."
"If he is, he never shows it," Ludwig said, shrugged. "But he probably is. It's inevitable. They've been friends since elementary school."
"Much like Francis and Antonio and me, huh?" said Gilbert.
"I suppose, but Alfred and Arthur are different ages," pointed out Ludwig.
"True," Gilbert said. He gazed up at Ludwig. "Then like you and me. We have the same age difference as they do."
Ludwig felt a painful jolt in his heart. He drew Gilbert closer to his chest. Gilbert squirmed playfully. He tried to lean forward and sit up on his own but his strength gave out on him and he nearly fell out of the bed. Ludwig quickly caught him before he fell and held him close.
"Don't," Ludwig said. "Just stay still. I'll support you."
Gilbert nodded, his hopes sinking. He had been upset when he couldn't walk very well on his own. Now he couldn't even sit up.
"Do you have a bucket list, West?" Gilbert asked.
Ludwig stiffened at the question. "Why do you ask?"
"Because I want to know," Gilbert said. "Tell it to me, please?"
Ludwig bit his lip. "If you insist."
"Yes, I do."
"Well," Ludwig started. "I want to spend one day on the beach without stress. Witness a solar eclipse. Scuba dive. Help someone through hard times. Find my passion. Donate blood. Mush a dog sled—"
"A dog sled?" Gilbert repeated. "Not your dogs, right?"
"They probably aren't up for the job," Ludwig admitted, smiling. "There's a couple more, I guess. Watch the Summer Olympics' opening ceremony live is another one. Finish my cuckoo clock collection, or at least broaden it. Travel abroad in Italy. I think that's about it."
"That sounds awesome," Gilbert said softly. "Haha, I like the cuckoo clock one."
"I guess it'll take me a while to get through them, if I can," Ludwig sighed.
"Perhaps," Gilbert said. "How much would traveling in Italy be?"
"No idea," Ludwig said. "A thousand dollars, perhaps? It isn't too far away, but considering Italians…"
Gilbert chuckled. He slipped out of Ludwig's arms and reached towards the drawer. With great effort he opened the drawer and pulled out a thick envelope from under his notebooks. He almost lost his balance and fell to the ground had Ludwig not kept a good hold of him. Gilbert gave Ludwig the envelope.
"What is this?" Ludwig asked.
"Open it," Gilbert said, nestling back into Ludwig's embrace.
Ludwig carefully opened the envelope and pulled out a large wad of checks. His eyes widened at the sight of the money and he quickly shoved them back in the envelope.
"I can't take this," Ludwig said sternly.
"You will," Gilbert said stoutheartedly.
"These are your savings from the bank!" Ludwig exclaimed. "There's no possible way I can take it. You were saving this up since you were four."
"I was saving up for college," Gilbert said carefully. "But with the—the free tuition and all, I don't really need it, do I?"
Ludwig had no idea how to respond. It felt like he was accepting some sort of unwritten deal. This was Gilbert's life savings. How in the world was Ludwig supposed to accept it and not suspect anything?
"I refuse," Ludwig said.
"Come on, West," Gilbert sighed. "I'm not going to be using it any time soon. My bucket list is pretty easy and cheap."
"Which is…?" Ludwig asked cautiously.
Gilbert pointed to the notepad with the list of books on the night table. "There's one part of it, I guess. The only one I wrote down. All the others I already completed. I got accepted into one of the best schools in Germany. I had the best gig ever with the Bad Company Trio. I helped build a Habitat for Humanity home. I donated blood. I kissed the most beautiful girl in the world."
"You lovebird," Ludwig said, smiling. "Have you finished the books yet?"
Gilbert's smile slowly slid off his face. He hesitated and shook his head.
"I can't read well anymore," Gilbert muttered. "I can barely keep my eyes focused and I feel really sick when I try."
"You're almost finished, though," Ludwig said.
"I know," Gilbert said blankly. "I've been trying really hard, but I can't do it anymore. When I try it feels like a sledgehammer is smashing my skull in."
Ludwig remained silent for a moment before picking up the book. "I'll read it out loud for you."
Gilbert turned towards Ludwig. "Aw, West, you don't have to do that—"
"There's no way I'm letting you drop a book when you're twenty-one pages away from the end," Ludwig said strictly. "That's against my morals. Now listen up. I'm starting."
Gilbert cracked a smile. "Thanks, West."
"Of course," Ludwig said. "You're starting a new chapter, aren't you? 'The Lives of the Dead.'" He frowned at the chapter title. "Interesting book, I suppose?"
"Riveting," Gilbert said.
Ludwig nodded silently. In a low voice, he began the last chapter of the last book.
"'But this too is true: stories can save us. I'm forty-three years old, and a writer now, and even still, right here, I keep dreaming Linda alive. And Ted Lavender, too, and Kiowa, and Curt Lemon, and a slim young man I killed, and an old man sprawled beside a pigpen, and several others whose bodies I once lifted and dumped into a truck. They're all dead. But in a story, which is a kind of dreaming, the dead sometimes smile and sit up and return to the world…'"
"Is he sleeping?"
Ludwig nodded as he descended the stairs. His father hung his coat in the closet. His eyes were tired; his movements were slow and weary.
"I've cooked dinner for us," Ludwig said. "You might need to heat it up though. It's kartoffelpüree."
"Thank you, son," Mr. Beilschmidt said. "Has he been eating?"
"Not really," Ludwig admitted.
Mr. Beilschmidt nodded. "Well, we can't force him to eat. You're now free to have a break from work, aren't you?"
"Yes," Ludwig said quietly. "And you?"
Mr. Beilschmidt sighed and shook his head. "I tried to appeal to the boss but he is stubborn. You spend time with Gilbert for the both of us, won't you?"
"Of course, Vatti," Ludwig promised. He would've done so without Father asking. In fact, he would've spent every single moment of his day with Gilbert even if Father had enough time to stay with his oldest son.
There was no telling how much time that would be.
On November 9th, 1989, the Berlin Wall fell, finally reuniting East and West Germany after decades of separation. It came down on midnight. Gilbert returning home to Ludwig was supposed to symbolize their was officially unified in 1990.
When Germany was reunited, the States of Berlin and Brandenburg were combined. Some suggested calling the proposed new state "Prussia."
I actually just took a test over the end of the Soviet Union, which included German Reunification. I studied by...writing...a...fanfiction...Yes, I am that nerdy. I only wrote one for German Reunification (that was all the time I had for) but on the plus side, I missed no questions on that section~ I don't really know if I want to publish it or not though; it's pretty similar to all those other German reunification stories on his website,
Tim O'Brien wrote The Things They Carried, the book Gilbert was reading. It's about the Vietnam War and it's quite an eye-opener. Haven't ever read a book like that before.I recommend it also~
Remember that one time where I said chapter 15 was my favorite? I made a miscalculation. It is actually chapter 16. Sorry, I just needed to clear that up…