Author: MercurialLily
Fandom: Hetalia
Title: Gilbert and Elizabeta's Infinite Playlist
Rating: T
Pairing: Eventual PruHun

I've been updating on a somewhat normal schedule lately, huh? Hopefully I can keep going like that.

This isn't my pillow. Those were Elizabeta's first thoughts when she woke up. She knew that she was lying down, but whatever her head was resting on wasn't all that soft. With a yawn, she opened her eyes. Her ceiling light was on, and it seemed to be very dark outside. As Elizabeta lifted her head, she became aware of the sound of quiet snoring. This baffled her until she sat up and glanced over her shoulder. She let out a small shriek of surprise.

Gilbert was lying on his back near the foot of the bed, sleeping. That was when Elizabeta came to the realization that her head must have been resting on his shoulder or chest. But... How did that happen? She had no memory of even falling asleep.

According to her clock, it was quarter after twelve. As carefully as she could, she got up from the bed and went over to her closet. The sweater and sweatpants she was wearing, though comfy, were very hot, so she decided to change. She selected a pair of shorts and an oversized T-shirt from her assortment of casual clothes. With her back to the bed, Elizabeta pulled off her sweater and tossed it aside before putting on the T-shirt and smoothing it out. Then she took off her sweatpants and slid into the shorts. Now she felt much cooler.

"What are you doing?"

Elizabeta stifled a scream as she spun around. She saw Gilbert sitting up on the bed, regarding her with mild curiosity. He pointed to the discarded clothes on the floor and asked, "Did you just change?"

"Y-yes. What do you care?" Elizabeta felt her cheeks grow hot. "Y-you weren't watching, were you?"

"No. What kind of person do you think I am?"

Elizabeta crossed her arms over her chest. "I thought you were sleeping."

"I was," Gilbert said. "But you woke me when you got up."

"Hmm. Hey," Elizabeta said as she approached the bed and sat on the edge, "how did we even end up falling asleep in the first place?"

Gilbert shrugged. "You were talking, and I spaced out a bit, and the next thing I knew, you had your head on my shoulder. I tried to wake you up, but I couldn't," he explained. "I thought it was kind of cute, to be honest. I never pictured you as the type to fall asleep on someone. Anyway, I guess after a while I fell asleep, too."

"You thought it was cute?" Elizabeta said with a small smile.

"Did I say cute? I-I didn't mean that. I meant weird. Inconvenient. You know, you shouldn't just fall asleep on someone..."

Elizabeta laughed. "Deny it all you want," she said. "I know what you said."

"Whatever. Can we stop talking about it?" Gilbert looked away.

"Okay. Let's change the subject." Elizabeta thought for a minute. "I'd like you to promise me something."

"What?"

"Please don't leave in the middle of the night again. It may not be that big of a deal to you, but it scares me. I don't like it," Elizabeta said quietly.

"I don't know..." Gilbert stood up and went over to the window. He leaned against the windowsill and sighed. "I'd like to be able to promise you that, but I'm not sure I can. Sometimes I just get this feeling that I have to leave. I can't really explain it." He turned around to face Elizabeta. "Do you get that? I'm not good at staying in one place for too long."

Elizabeta absentmindedly tugged at the sleeve of her shirt. "We could always come up with a compromise," she suggested. "If you really feel like you have to leave, you can wake me up and tell me. That way I'll know and won't worry as much."

"You're saying you'd want me to wake you up? Really?"

"If necessary."

"All right." With a shrug, Gilbert turned back to the window. He tapped on the glass and hummed quietly.

Elizabeta wanted to have a longer discussion, but she felt her eyelids grow heavy, and she yawned and lay down. She muttered a quiet "Good night" before drifting off into sleep.

Gilbert didn't notice until he turned around to tell her something and saw her lying across the bed. He went over and covered her with her blanket. Then he sat on the very edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Elizabeta, and observed her.

Elizabeta's long hair was fanned out around her head. Her expression was peaceful, her breathing calm and even. Her eyelids fluttered ever so slightly. She made infrequent, quiet sounds. Gilbert wondered if she was dreaming.

He stood up and left the room. Yes, he was pretty tired, but there were more pressing matters at the moment. Once that was taken care of, he could go to sleep.

He opened the cupboard under the bathroom sink.

. . . . .

"Can you tell me where the music room is?" Elizabeta asked as she and Ludwig walked out of the cafeteria together. They had just wrapped up another meaningful conversation, and now Elizabeta wanted a few minutes of leisure time before the start of her next class.

"Sure," Ludwig said. "The fastest way is up the back stairs. There are actually two music rooms side by side at the end of the second floor. Rooms 201 and 203."

"Okay, thanks. See you later," Elizabeta said as she went in the direction of the back stairs. It was an isolated part of the school; hardly anyone was in sight. As she made her way up the stairs, she began to hear the faint sound of someone playing the piano. It grew louder and louder until she was outside of room 201. She opened the door.

The room was large, filled with several music stands and chairs. There were shelves with sheet music to the right. A drum kit and two pianos, one black and one brown, were on the left. Roderich Edelstein was sitting at the black piano, his eyes closed, calmly playing a piece by Mozart. He hadn't seemed to notice Elizabeta at all.

Elizabeta quietly stepped into the room and closed the door. She went over to the brown piano and sat down on the bench, observing the way Roderich's fingers moved expertly over the ivory keys.

The music stopped abruptly, and Roderich glanced her way. "We meet again," he said coolly.

"Yeah. Hi, I guess." Elizabeta awkwardly played a scale, wincing slightly when she hit a wrong note. She said half-jokingly, "So who did you sell your soul to in order to play piano so well?"

"I've been taking lessons since I was four," Roderich responded. "I come from a family of musicians."

"...Cool." Elizabeta had noticed the first time she and Roderich spoke that he directly answered the questions she asked and didn't add anything else. He simply stated the facts, nothing more. Of course, Gilbert was like that to some extent, although he often accidentally revealed more than he wanted to. At least he had a sense of humour. Roderich seemed very dry.

"Oh, that reminds me," Roderich said as he continued playing. "Your companion is in the other room."

"My...companion?"

Roderich nodded. "Indeed. He came in here about ten minutes ago, and when he noticed me, he left." He nodded to a small door at the far side at the room. "There's a corridor that leads to the other room. He went through there."

"Oh. Thanks," Elizabeta said, standing up. She walked over to the small door and opened it. She looked back at Roderich. "Your playing's really great, by the way."

"Hmm."

As Elizabeta went through the door, she heard the faint strumming of an acoustic guitar. She also heard a familiar, slightly hoarse voice singing softly. She walked quietly through the corridor, passing a small room filled with instrument cases. The door at the end of the corridor was closed, but Elizabeta could see through the small window.

This second room was smaller, with risers instead of chairs. There was a mid-sized piano in the corner. Gilbert was sitting on one of the risers, a guitar in his hands. The guitar was a standard for right-handed people, so he was having a bit of trouble, but his playing wasn't bad. Elizabeta opened the door just a crack so she could hear better. The song was entirely unfamiliar, but she enjoyed it.

Gilbert stopped playing and set the guitar down. Without looking in Elizabeta's direction, he asked, "Do you want something, or are you just planning on eavesdropping?"

Taking that as an invitation, Elizabeta opened the door all the way and leaned against the doorframe. "So you play guitar."

"Kind of. I'm not very good. Besides, even if I was, all the guitars here are for right-handed people. It's a pain." Gilbert assumed a closed-off position, when just seconds before he had seemed quite confident.

"Did you write that song?" Elizabeta asked.

"Maybe."

"I liked it."

"It's not done yet. I still have to work some things out," Gilbert muttered. He picked up the guitar again.

Elizabeta looked up at the clock. "You know, history class starts soon," she said. "Do you want to come, or -"

"No."

"Oh. Okay." Elizabeta was a bit taken aback by his sharp tone, but she decided to let it slide. "I'll meet up with you later, all right? Oh, and I think Mom's making something really good for dinner tonight."

Gilbert fiddled with the guitar strings. "Cool," he replied, not looking up.

Elizabeta turned and closed the door before starting to head back to the other room. Just as she left, the guitar started again, and she paused to listen. It was faint, but she could hear Gilbert singing passionately:

"I'm still here, waiting for you. Even if you go, I won't forget you..."

A/N: The bit of lyric at the end is actually a song I'm currently writing. Just in case you were wondering.

Also, if you guys would like to see a particular scene or something, just go ahead and suggest it, and I'll see what I can do ;)