Guess who's back! This chapter was really fun to write so I hope you enjoy it!

It was cold. Prussia didn't know where he was but he did know that it was cold. The air stung like icicles shoving into his veins. Or maybe it was more like ice water cracking down his barriers again and again. He pulled the thin fabric of his jacket tighter against his skin and shuddered. The wind responded with a stronger gust.

"Oh, screw you, too," he said, turning left into an alley that looked to promise to protection from the cold. Any other day, he would have understood that it was pathetic to be hiding in an alleyway. Today, though, as he received reprieve from the wind, he couldn't find it in himself to feel ashamed. If anything, it only convinced him to walk deeper into the dark and huddle against a wall. He sighed as he lowered himself to the ground, his feet aching from the long run and even longer walk. A cloud passed over the sky above and he pulled out his- Gilbert's- phone to check the time. It blinked once with the time, screaming 5:27 pm at him before buzzing in his hand with another text alert. His expression remained neutral.

In the two days that he had been missing, Ludwig had texted him a total of twenty-one times. This one made twenty-two. Prussia had responded to each of them with a false calmness, stating that he was cracking under the pressures of school and needed some time to think and clear his mind. He'd told Ludwig that he'd taken a bus to some of the suburbs near the edges of the city, which wasn't exactly a lie. The only difference was that Prussia's past had allowed him the ability to march on for days without breaking a sweat. This was nothing. Around the fifth text, Ludwig had bought the story, believing that Gilbert apparently had some friends who lived out there. Though, even after that, he did call seven times in a row just to hear Prussia verbally say so himself. Prussia had gotten away with the lie by promising to respond to every text and call. In return, Prussia had demanded that Ludwig not tell anyone where he went. Ludwig had agreed in the easy manner of someone who's gone through this before. Prussia added that to the list of things he and Gilbert had in common.

Prussia opened the text with freezing fingers, squinting to read what it said.

A teacher asked me about you today. Didn't you tell them you were leaving?

Prussia grimaced and typed out a hasty response, hoping he'd learned enough about Gilbert to get away with a careless answer.

Do I ever?

The response was immediate.

Fair enough. I'll alert them but I expect you to be in charge of it next time.

Yes, sir. Prussia was sure the sarcasm wouldn't make it through to Ludwig but it helped him cope a bit with the rotten feeling he had in his gut. Before Ludwig could text again, he shut off the phone. He recognized the way his emotions were going and having such direct access to other people- people who reminded him too much of his old life- was a bad idea. He set the phone on the ground beside him and stretched his legs out before him. They seemed to be feeling better now and he was sure he could walk another mile or so. The wind, though- the goddamn wind and cold- kept him in place. They kept him in the alley and they kept him in his thoughts. Prussia wasn't sure which place was more dangerous.

Emotions of sorrow and despair danced through the ex-nation's mind and he let out a heavy breath. It wasn't fair that he couldn't escape his troubles, he thought. It wasn't fair that he had them to begin with. He recognized the familiar feeling of a depressive cloud settling around him and, as always, he didn't fight back.

Prussia never knew why people called it a cloud or described it as a stormy, rainy mood. Depression and these thoughts weren't as easily predicted nor as isolated as these events. A cloud could be seen from a mile away and its shade is more often appreciated than it is avoided. And, even if it were wished to be avoided, Prussia pondered, it wasn't like doing so was such a hard thing to do.

Rain was an even worse metaphor in Prussia's opinion. It called to mind cliché skies and artistic tears, cheesy movie scenes and similes that were always overused. Rain made him think that he should be crying everyday when, in reality, he would be a fool to let his tears run as freely as the rain. Rain made him feel as if he was doing this depression thing all wrong, as if he should behave like the actors he sees on screens. Why did he feel his worst on sunny days? Don't all movie characters feel their worst when the sky was crying with them? Prussia scoffed. The universe was so rarely on his side for these cliché moments to occur.

Prussia had always believed that these feelings were more like the wind. The wind wasn't a specific event that occurred once a week or once a month. No, the wind was almost always there. Just like these emotions, it was a constant presence brushing against his skin. Sometimes he was lucky enough not to notice it but other times it yanked at his body as if it wanted to tear through it. The wind could be a comfort; the wind could be a knife. Prussia had never liked the wind much.

And then there were the days that were scalding. There were days so hot he could barely breathe. These were like the days where he felt too much emotion, where he was overwhelmed with the strange feelings of joy. These were the days where he should have enjoyed his lack of grey thoughts and desperate moods but, much like how he wished for the wind when the sun grew unbearable, he would instead find himself feeling guilty for not feeling sad. He'd be so used to the wind, to the sad, that he'd feel lost without it.

The wind outside the alley screamed and Prussia didn't bother trying to ignore it.

He lifted his head from where he had rested it on his knees and looked around, taking in the dim setting around him. There was an overflowing dumpster a bit to his left and pressed against the other wall. Small bugs, like ants, scattered about on the ground. People passed by the opening to this sanctuary without a second glance. There was nothing here to give him hope, only a wall to protect him from the cold.

Then, from the far side of the dumpster, Prussia heard a soft meow. He looked to see small cat, a stray with no collar, white with a scar crossing over one of its red-brown eyes. It looked back at Prussia, a tender gaze as if it saw more than a simple cat should. It tilted its head, curious. Prussia stared back at it, not knowing what to do. The cat stepped forward, closer, and the look in its eyes grew sharper. It occurred to Prussia that perhaps this was the sign of hope he was looking for. Peering deep into those familiar eyes, Prussia imagined that perhaps this was his moment of redemption. Perhaps this cat could be the first to show him kindness, to let him touch it without fear from either party, to rest its head against him without knowing who he is or what he's done. Prussia imagined scenario after scenario. He allowed himself to hope.

For a moment, even the wind was silent. Prussia lifted a hand towards the cat as if it were an oasis and he were a man who had crawled through a desert. He extended his arm, slowly, in fear that this was an illusion concocted by a mind that's finally cracked. The cat gave another kind meow.

And then it hissed and turned, sprinting to the other end of the alley, getting away from the ex-nation as fast as it could. It scattered trash and screeched as it ran. A bottle tipped over and shattered with a piercing shriek.

Prussia's hand fell. There was no redemption. There was only a cat.

Redemption didn't exist.

He waited until the cat was out of sight and then pushed himself up onto wobbling legs. For a second, he wondered if he was going to go after the cat, if he was that desperate to feel better. He took a step forward. His gaze landed on the broken bottle.

Prussia thought back to Gilbert's arms and to his scars. He thought back to how he had mildly judged them and taken pride in the fact that he had never committed such an act. The glass shards glinted up at him menacingly. He wondered now if maybe Gilbert knew something he didn't.

The wind howled. Prussia could barely hear his own thoughts.

He walked towards the broken glass, shaken and as shattered as the bottle. A new feeling of determination flooded through him, pounded through his body at the same tempo as his pulse. Is this what it meant to feel alive? Is this what it meant to feel free? Prussia's eyes went wide as he bent over to pick up one of the larger shards, standing and leaning against the wall to inspect it. It looked like a knife and it shook in Prussia's hands. As he began to roll up the sleeve on his left arm, Prussia hesitated as if someone could stop him. He shook his head.

Somewhere in his mind, he reminded himself that he still had ten days left. A louder part of his mind shouted that he didn't care.

Is this what it meant to be truly alone? Had Prussia finally been abandoned by the last person forcing him to keep it together- himself? For all he knew, he was just a shell with no willpower or control. He was just a soulless creature that the wind could blow right through.

As he lined the glass up against his wrist, Prussia felt a burst of confidence that he would at least never have a more depressing thought than that. He wasn't sure if that was because this was his rock bottom or if this was his last day. Either way, he figured, the result would be the same.

Prussia knew that his scars would heal, albeit slower than any true nation's. That begged the question: would his scars heal in time to save him?

Prussia added a bit of pressure, reveling in the way his skin gave into the thin glass in his hand. It wasn't bleeding. No, not yet. He wasn't sure if he was ready for that yet.

Prussia shut his eyes. He held his breath.

It would only take a bit more pressure. It would only take one slice.

Okay, then, he thought. On the count of three.

Eins

He opened his eyes. He sucked in a gasp.

Zwei

He pressed a bit harder. A thin red line appeared on his alabaster skin.

He almost felt a bit of regret.

Dr-

"Hello? Who's down there?"

Prussia dropped the glass and fell to his knees. He was almost surprised that neither of them shattered.

"Hello?"

Someone stood at the opening of the alley, peering in with the light off their cell phone screen to aid their search. Prussia turned, scrambling to shove the glass away from him. He refused to look back at whoever was now walking towards him.

"No...No, don't," he found himself muttering. "Don't come closer."

Either the other person didn't hear him or they didn't care. They kept walking, closer and closer. Prussia's hands began to shake.

They couldn't be allowed to see the glass! They couldn't see what Prussia had been thinking- what he had almost done! Prussia was certain that if they knew, whoever they were, they would be disgusted. They would laugh and tell him how weak he is. They would probably ask him to follow through.

Prussia's breaths came quick and he couldn't find the strength to push himself off the ground. His mind begged him to stand and run. It begged him to escape from the shame that was sure to occur. He wanted to be away from here, away from the wind and the cold and the stranger coming for him. He wanted to be back home. He wanted to be warm. He wanted for no one to hate him. He wanted to be Gilbert. He wanted his brother. He wanted-

"West," he gasped out. "I want...I need my brother. I need Germany. I need West. I need him. I need him now!"

But does he need you?

Prussia couldn't shut up the harsh voice that shot through his mind.

What would Germany think if he knew what you were going to do? What you were thinking? What would he do? Aren't you supposed to be the strong older brother? Wouldn't this prove that you aren't?

"H-Hey! Are you okay?"

Prussia couldn't focus on the person now standing before him. He could barely focus on his own breaths.

"He can't know. Germany can't know. He can never know." Prussia began to ramble. His vision blurred. "Please! You have to promise that you won't tell him! You can't take me back to him! I won't be able to look at him! Oh Gott, he'll know just by looking at me. He'll be disgusted! He won't want to be my brother. He'll be ashamed! Don't take me back to him!"

Something landed on his shoulder and Prussia nearly jumped out of his skin. It got him to end his rant, though.

"Look, I don't know what's going on but you do seem like you need help. Do you want to talk about it?"

Prussia slowly shook his head, finally looking over to whoever had interrupted his thoughts and actions.

He was greeted with a stain of blood-red on his vision.

This person was nothing more than the color red. His red-brown eyes held nothing but concern, even if they were partially hidden by his shaggy red hair. A small red top hat rested on his head and a trench coat of the same shade was wrapped around his slim body. The only reprieve from the color was the white pearl earring hanging from the boy's left ear.

Prussia recognized him immediately.

"Romania," he stated in shock. The boy's eyebrows came together and he shook his head.

"You're not making any sense. I'm Vlad." He narrowed his eyes. "You didn't answer. Are you okay?"

Prussia took a moment before responding. He suddenly shoved himself up onto shaky legs and forced a smile.

Be happy. Seem happy. Don't let anyone know what you were going to do. You have to keep the countdown secret. Be happy for ten more days and then you can do whatever you want.

"Ja, of course! I'm awe-" Prussia's voice broke and his mouth slammed shut with a loud smashing of his teeth together. His smile dropped into a line and he swallowed around the lump that had been in his throat since he'd created the countdown. "I'm awesome."

His voice was all wrong. The words came out flat and there was another crack in his voice, as if he were going to cry. Which he wasn't. Not if he had anything to say about it.

Vlad didn't seem convince.

"Right," he said, drawing out the word. "Okay. I don't believe that for a second. You're in an alley by yourself and you look like a ghost. If anything, you're cold. Why don't you come back to my place to at least warm up? Just stay until the wind dies out and then you can leave. Sound fair?"

Prussia wanted to scream that it didn't sound fair. He wanted to scream that he needed more than a reprieve from the cold. He needed to be left alone and he needed to get rid of this awful feeling in his chest and mind. The cold was the least of his problems.

Still, he found himself nodding. Vlad gave a half-grin at the action.

"Cool," he said. "Follow me. My house isn't very far and I can make something warm for us. Don't you think you're lucky that I like looking into dark alleys?"

Prussia sneered at the ground as Vlad turned back. "That's a freaky thing to like."

Vlad laughed as he began to lead Prussia out of the alley and into the more crowded sidewalk. "It's only because I have one by my house. There are always bats and cats hanging out inside it so it's sort of habit to check down every alley for them. I've got an idea to adopt some of the animals one day!"

Yeah, well, I've got a bad idea that says you should shut your mouth, Prussia thought bitterly as they continued their walk. He remained silent through the walk, only speaking when Vlad seemed to expect a response. It was fine, though. Vlad seemed able to talk enough for the both of them.

"Hey," Vlad said suddenly. He peered over his shoulder at Prussia curiously, an eyebrow raised. "What's your name? I don't think I heard you say it."

Prussia faltered, struggling to come up with an answer. Just a few days ago, he would have easily spouted out Gilbert's name with a lazy grin, taking joy in how no one knew who he was. But, now, he didn't want to be Gilbert. He had tried that and he had failed. Prussia just wanted to be good enough but no form of Prussia would ever be. There was a reason his nation wasn't his own anymore. There was only one person good enough to deserve it.

"West," he said. "Call me West."

If Vlad noticed the way Prussia whispered the name or remembered how he had been calling it out in the alley, he said nothing. For the first time in a long time, Prussia was grateful.

The grateful feeling lasted longer than Prussia expected as Vlad continued to talk more about his own life. They had made it back to the boy's house just as the weather began to worsen and now Vlad bustled around the kitchen, claiming to make hot chocolate. Prussia nodded along to everything the other said, wrapping his arms around himself from where he sat at the table.

"It's too bad that my little brother isn't here. He and my parents are looking at houses. We plan on moving closer to the school a few towns over. I'm homeschooled but they feel like my brother will do better with other kids. He loves people! I'm sure he would have loved to meet you," Vlad continued in that glad voice of his. He walked over to Prussia, smiling as he placed the cups of hot chocolate down on the table before sitting down across from Prussia. Prussia could only pull the mug closer to himself, feeling too overwhelmed by this stranger's kindness to speak.

The two sat in silence, seemingly comfortable for Vlad but terribly stressful for Prussia. He couldn't help but watch Vlad from the corner of his eye, waiting for him to pull a knife or insult out from under his ridiculous hat. He couldn't help but expect for his smile to gain a sharp edge or for his friendliness to run out. Prussia had found that these things occur more often than he would like.

"So, West," Vlad began and Prussia barely repressed his flinch at the word. Vlad didn't seem to notice. "I don't want to be intrusive but...Do you have a home you can go to? I'm not kicking you out. You can stay as long as you would like, though we'd have to clear it with my parents. I'm sure they wouldn't mind, that's not the problem. I'm just wondering….Are you, for lack of a better word, homeless?"

Prussia had no honest answer he wanted to give and he sipped his drink to grant himself more time. Of course, he had a home- in two separate universes, actually. He could easily claim he had gotten lost and was seeking safety from the cold. He could even state the same lie he had told Ludwig- it wasn't too far from the truth, anyway. He opened his mouth, prepared to spout out another lie, but found himself taking another drink instead. He let the liquid burn down his throat. He was sick of telling lies.

But what was the truth? Did he have a home?

They say home is where the heart is and he had left his heart between the pages of a diary that no one would read.

"I don't have a home here but it's okay," Prussia said carefully, giving the most honest answer possible. "I've just been travelling around a bit. I live somewhere else."

"Oh." Vlad seemed suspicious but, thankfully, didn't question the validity of Prussia's statement. He merely brushed it aside with another smile. "That's so cool. I've always wanted to travel the world. But I have to wait until my brother finishes school first. I promised I'd take him with me. So for now I just make do by helping out those who do travel. Like you! But I didn't know it at the time so that's lucky. Kind of like these two other boys who came by the other day. They just got back from Europe! I didn't get their names, though. We just met on the street because they needed directions to the nearest bus stop. They seemed nice, though. Hey! You have a bit of an accent! Do you think you might be from the same place as those guys?"

Prussia huffed out a laugh, feeling no guilt for the confusion that flashed across Vlad's face at the sound. "I don't think it's very likely for anyone here to be from where I'm from."

The silence that followed was neither stressful nor comfortable, only awkward. It made Prussia feel worse than before.

"So," Vlad began again moments later, when both their drinks had been finished. "Do you need to charge your phone or something? I think you're the first person I've met who hasn't checked their phone compulsively within the first ten minutes of us meeting."

That, at least, pulled a rueful smile from the ex-nation.

"No," he said, reaching into the pocket for the phone and placing it on the table. "I just shut it off earlier to, uh, save battery."

Prussia was tempted to keep the phone off, to keep the memories of Gilbert's life and his own trapped by the device. But he knew that if Ludwig hadn't responded to his text yet then he would soon. He also knew that if he didn't respond to Ludwig just as quick then suspicions would be raised. That was the last thing he needed. Reluctantly, he jammed his thumb against the power button and watched as it sprung back to life with a catchy tune. Almost immediately, it began to ring.

"Wow!" Vlad exclaimed, obviously amused at the situation. "What are the odds that you'd get a call as soon as it was on?"

Prussia wasn't half as amused as the other boy and, again, he contemplated ignoring everything that was happening on the other line. He knew that was less than an option. With a drawn out sigh, he answered.

He hadn't even had the chance to greet Ludwig before he was assaulted with a command.

"You need to come back." Ludwig's tone was different than before, angrier and less controlled. It sounded as if someone had cut into his emotions and forced them to bleed into his voice. It was foreign and strange. It was downright terrifying. Prussia swallowed nervously.

"What?" Prussia asked, all too aware of the tremor in his voice and the way Vlad was looking at him. He looked away. "Ludwig, what are you talking about? You said you understood. If this is about the teachers then-"

"No," Ludwig cut him off. "This has nothing to do with them. There are...There are other people, though, who need to speak with you."

"What?" And terror coursed through Prussia's entire being- mind and body and everything in between. Who else could it be? Elizaveta? No, she made it clear she'd never speak with him again. Arthur? Alfred? Prussia had believed that they didn't want this whole universe mix-up to get out but what if they went to Ludwig while looking for him? Oh Gott, what if they got Gilbert back? Not once had Ludwig referred to Prussia as Gilbert, what if he knew the truth?

Prussia's voice was barely a whisper, just loud enough to be heard. He couldn't remember the proper way to force air into lungs and he was drowning on his own thoughts. "Who's there? Ludwig, explain to me what's going on."

There was a silence filled only with muffled words, as if Ludwig were holding the phone against his chest to prevent Prussia from listening. It only caused the dread to grow and Prussia expected the worst. He expected hateful words or to be hung up on. He expected to hear Arthur cast a spell. He expected to hear Gilbert beg for his life back. But-

"I believe it is you who must do the explaining, mon ami."

-he sure as hell didn't expect that.

As always, all mistakes are mine :)

I'm starting college soon but, fret not! I will finish this story SOON! I finished outlining the rest of it (and would you believe I've been making it up as we go? Hard work, wouldn't advice) and we're actually really close to the end. I've started writing those chapters, too, before getting this one up so I would have a headstart on the last stretch.

I apologize for the lateness for these last few chapters and I'll be honest and say it's because, for a while, I was in a weird place where writing just didn't excite me anymore. But! Some stuff and conversations happened and I'm ready to pump out as many fanfictions as you need!

Please leave a comment if you liked it, or even if you hated it. Be on the lookout for the next chapter and I'll see you all later.

Xx