It seems I like, and feel I'm best at writing scenes with strong, negative emotions. Despair, regret, worry, confusion, anger, frustration – all my forte. The interesting thing about writing a story is that no matter how much I want to make every single scene literary perfection, some of them won't be. Not everything I need to write is in my emotional setting of choice. Even if it is, sometimes the events occurring don't give me much to work with. Sometimes I just have a bad day. It's very interesting writing something long like this and learning more about myself and how I can develop as a writer.

To anyone who cares, an update on me: on May 24th I graduated from high school with honors and am now moving on to college. I'm not ENTIRELY sure what I want to do. I WANT to do illustration but I also want money. Animation seemed like an okay in-between (not much money but more than illustration) but I don't really like 3D animation. The 2D industry is dying, and it's hard to find an animation program at a school I can actually afford. Every other day I think I should ditch my dreams and just study Computer Science to make my life easy.

All I know is that I like drawing, storytelling, minimal student loan debt, and a pay check. So, it's rough because these things don't really add up to anything logical. I'm doing my first year at a school in the big city nearest me (okay, it's Atlanta. I'm just going to trust none of you care enough to stalk me) studying Graphic Design to stay somewhat artsy, but really just get my core classes out of the way. I'll practice art at school, and storytelling here. So, let's continue this journey of growth together.

This chapter, like all the others lately, took a minute and a half to write. I thought I could get away with no apologizing for this taking so long, and then I went to revise, and realized I needed to rewrite the entire thing. So here we are with the "I'm sorry, I was busy" shtick. How about this? If I ever decide to abandon this story, I'll let y'all know. Otherwise, just assume I'm taking my good sweet time updating.

I find I can get a chapter out if I lower my personal expectations of myself and let my writing be what it is. As previously stated, not everything can be perfect. I also haven't read a book in a month or two so I fear I'm kind of dragging in my brain-knowledge-of-writing-styles-and-technique-ness or something. I've been in a strange mental place that I don't really understand, other than that it's bad for me, so I'm trying to put more of myself into myself and hobbies and less into other people. Regardless of all my drama, I hope y'all enjoy this read and your summer!

These Wounds Won't Seem to Heal

The whole world as of late seemed to be abuzz with a new excitement as communism lost more and more of its holds on unwilling countries and their citizens. A little cluster of nations in Europe especially seemed to smile brighter and move quicker as more and more of them found reason to get back on their feet again.

Germany in particular was positively affected by this.

Prior to this moment, the man in question would pretend everything was fine and dandy, and he had done a fair job of fooling little Italy. It wasn't until Japan pointed it out that Italy himself began to notice, and spending time with his big friend didn't feel quite the same.

Germany was never one to smile much before, but in that time he hadn't smiled at all. He also always liked to keep things tidy and clean, but in his sadness, he cleaned any and everything just to keep himself distracted.

Japan made a note to Italy of how purposeless it was to clean the inside of a bleach bottle, and that Germany likely knew this, but he was doing it anyways. Japan also made Italy see how lifeless his friend was when he walked, and the bit more muscle he'd gained in his efforts to keep himself from being left alone with his thoughts.

Italy of the present day almost wished Japan was around to check for him, but he was fairly certain Germany was giddier than he had been in the last decade. He had followed his friend to run errands.

First, he drove back and forth with Germany as he moved his extra cars to a garage across town. He now had only one remaining at his house and polished it with pride. There was a certain gusto in his rapid movements with the rag about the bright, red paint.

Then, Italy sat by and watched as Germany's exercise equipment was moved from the basement to the emptied half of his friend's garage. After placing down the last set of dumbbells, he smiled at himself for a job well done, and it was a smile that did not go unnoticed by a certain Italian.

Now, they were at the post office. Germany was shuffling through a pile of letters and stopped on two envelopes he seemed to be searching for.

"Here," he said without a hint of dreariness, "this one's yours and it'd be great if you could pass the other along to your brother."

Italy took the notes in his hands and watched Germany as he counted stamps. His skin was brighter, under his eyes was lighter, and he moved his head and hips ever so lightly to imply a stationary dance. He had to be happier now; Italy was certain of it. The letter in his hands told him why.

It was more of an invitation than a letter, printed on a little square of blue paper. The invitation detailed a gathering at Germany's house, supposed to take place two weeks from then on November the 11th, at 2p.m.

It was a welcoming party for Prussia.

Upon figuring this out, Italy was filled with his own blast of excitement, and the man gave up on reading the mood and sprung from his seat. He ran to Germany and clung to his arm, just like he used to, and this time Germany didn't seem to wilt into him.

"Gilbert's coming back?!" Italy asked in an enthusiastic German. He had started speaking his friend's native tongue instead of Language of the Nations whenever possible in an effort to cheer him up, and part of him feared this was still necessary.

"Yes," Germany announced handing his stack of letters to a robust woman, "it's been in the workings for a while, but I found out officially two nights ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Italy squeezed on the tight muscle on his friend's arm, and it was a gesture that made Germany turn to him with a bit of a smirk and respond:

"I just did."

"No but…" It was a joke. A joke of sorts. The sudden realization killed Italy's train of thought for a moment and stretched a pleasant smile over his sunbaked cheeks. Germany hadn't been the least bit playful in what felt like forever, but the sudden presence of a joke warmed his Italian companion from the inside out. He didn't need Japan to tell him his friend was happy again. "…but sooner."

"I don't know," Germany replied. He smiled at nothing. "I just wanted to make sure."

"Make sure of what?"

"That it was real."

Italy's grip on Germany slacked, but only for a horrified second. As Germany said that he seemed to melt all over again in the slight ways Japan had listed: his shoulders drooped, his eyes dulled, his face fell. Well, this wasn't about to happen again so quickly when Italy had just gotten him back.

"Who told you about this?" Italy questioned.

"My boss, and Alfred."

"Well then it must be real!" the shorter of the two cried with a hop, "and if it isn't, then I'll start a riot for you."

Germany looked at Italy, blankly. Even with Japan's tips he could be hard to read, that is, until his whole body seemed to smile with him.

"Thank you," the man remarked, and then he took his receipt from Ms. Robust.

"So, if he's coming back on the 9th, why do we have to wait till the 11th to go visit?"

"Germany said he wanted to give Prussia time to rest. If you'd just read the back of the invite…"

"To Hell with his rest," Switzerland remarked, followed by instant regret for cursing at his sister, "who all is going?"

"Well… I know Italy will go, and he will probably bring his brother with him, and-"

"Why would Rom- oh, sorry for interrupting, just, why would Romano want to come?"

"Prussia told me, before he left, that he and Romano had found some common ground and sort of became friends."

"As if either one of them could honestly convince me they had friends, better yet in each other," Switzerland stated a little too loudly for it have been to himself as he'd originally intended.

"…Aside from that," Liechtenstein continued, "Poland might come, I heard America was invited, France and Spain are likely to show up, Denmark is coming, Hungary wants to go, and Austria is tagging along."

"Nice to see Hungary's bringing her pet."

"What is wrong with you?" the girl questioned. Switzerland turned to her to find a puff of anger in her expression. "You are being exceptionally rude right now."

"It's not like anyone can hear me."

"Well I can and I don't appreciate it!" She was stern in her tone. "Why are you upset?"

"I'm not."

It was her brother's famous lie – I'm not. I'm not sad, I'm not cold, I'm not hungry, I'm not tired, and I'm not upset. He never liked to seem anything less than perfect in her eyes, but Liechtenstein rarely stood for it. She'd rather dive for her brother's real intentions, than splash around on the shore of his seemingly consistent animosity.

"Are you going?" Switzerland asked.

"Of course." Why would he think she wouldn't go? Unless… "You're going."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are!"

"You can't make me go," Switzerland snapped, before looking back at his sister. Sometimes he wondered why they had to look so similar. Why couldn't he be an oddball of the family, like Prussia, and evade resembling the rest of them? It was hard to see his own eyes look at him with such sadness.

"Swivy…" she began, moving to sit next to him. He hated being called Swivy, but Liechtenstein was essentially given free will to do whatever she wanted around him. Any other nation who dared utter than name received a sharp bullet to the ass, and Austria had to be outright killed once or twice before he got the idea. That name was not okay.

By anyone, but her.

She took his hand and half held it, half rubbed his palm. He'd never told her he found it comforting, so he couldn't figure out why she always did it.

"Are you okay?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"Yes."

"Why don't you want to go then?"

He didn't want to go because he didn't ever speak to Prussia. The whole time he was gone he only looked at paper and thought about it; he never even attempted to write a single letter. He hadn't seen him in private for longer than anyone else. He never made any effort to be around, so why should he now? Well, that and:

"I just don't."

"I'm gonna need a little more than that, Swivy."

More? Like what more? Like that he didn't really understand where everyone thought they got off suddenly going out to see Prussia? It had been ages since anyone had even mentioned his name, so it felt disrespectful to suddenly act like they had all been buddy-buddy till the man left. That and:

"It's a lot of effort."

"How so?" Lillie asked with growing patience and the sweetest smile. She was always so nurturing; maybe she got those mother-like characteristics from Hungary.

Swivy didn't really know what to do around Prussia. He had no idea how to walk into Germany's house, and see Prussia there, and act like he belonged in that situation. He didn't know how to feel welcomed when:

"I never knew Prussia that well."

"So you don't know what to say to him?" she asked. He'd never said that. Why could she always hear the things he never said? "That doesn't mean he wouldn't want you there."

Yes, it probably did.

"Really," she reassured after somehow hearing his thoughts, "it doesn't. I'm sure Prussia would be happy to see as many familiar faces as he could. It's been a long time since he's seen any one of us. If you're worried about disrespecting him," she began, as another thing he never said, "I'm sure he'd feel even worse if you just didn't show up at all."

Was Switzerland overly simple? He wondered if his face just gave away all his thoughts, or if someone went writing these things on his forehead. If his sister could always manage to understand him anyways, he may as well just say it.

"I am excited… t-to go I guess."

"Really?" her face lit up, "why?"

"Why? I don't know. I just am."

That and it'd been so long since anyone had had a good laugh, a good drink, or a good time. Sure they tried, but the dynamic wasn't the same without him. You had Germany, Austria, and Switzerland; a bore, a snob, and a brute. Even if you threw in Hungry who recently returned, all she added to the dynamic was femininity. They needed a wild ball of silver and red to liven up their night.

He could get annoying very easily, but he was also fun, and kindhearted, and they grew up together, and Switzerland at this point kind of…

"You miss him?" Liechtenstein asked as if she didn't already know the answer. "Well I do too. A lot."

November 9th, 1989 - 12:00a.m.

From above, it could be described as a flood. Waters of pigmented yellows and spots of brown poured forward in a frenzy. A sea of people crashing into the dam of their despair like the whites of waves whipping over rocks to a peaceful shoreline. There was some fear to it, and hints of desperation mingled within, but mostly it was a joyous occasion.

Some ran without regard to find any means of escape. Others walked under the arched overpass that was once feared and forbidden. Several had no intentions of following convention and sought to weaken the boundary, demanding their pickaxes and hammers drive a way through; they created their own checkpoints.

On a later date, Germany felt someone would ask him how it felt to cross. How would he answer? Not much changed for anyone present.

Germany had started on the ground, but in a place that felt far below it. The air was humified with sweat, there were hands and bodies pushing on him, and the sights of this side were too familiar. The sky on this side was its usual deep blue, the stars dots of bland white, and the trees: identical cones of green.

Then, for a moment, he was up. About a meter and a half off the ground his foot took a pit stop in the hole in the wall they had created. For just a moment, it was quiet as the sides of the wall drowned out the screams. For a moment his hair stood on end and his pupils dilated and his heart raced and bubbles filled his stomach. And then his foot landed.

And when it landed his boot sunk into the freshly rained-on grass, frenzied hands touched him, and he breathed in the humidity.

But the wind blew as he crossed and a crisp cold caressed his reddened cheeks. The sounds of his people were drowned out by the deafening banging of his heart in his ears. He looked out and saw an unfamiliar sky that was a swirling of blues and blacks with simmering diamonds littered throughout. The trees were endlessly tall towers of lush green and yellow, and the people a collage of smiles, tears, and wonder.

There was an indistinct murmur of the screaming bodies around him. His legs lost weight as invisible forces pushed him slowly into the crowd. He let himself drift, lost in a subtle euphoria, to the back of this tidal wave.

He was in east Berlin again. And he had someone waiting on him.

November 8th, 1989 - 11:57p.m.

Prussia held hands with the woman next to him. She squeezed especially hard, hard enough to hurt him, but he squeezed back just as much.

They stood like that, with interlocked fingers pressing deep enough to make each of their entire arms tremble, to keep each other from sobbing, or screaming, or sprinting themselves a head start. All the excitement and giddy joy in both their bodies funneled downwards and out and was laced under their nails and resting in the small pocket of air between their palms.

The time ticked a minute more to 11:58p.m.

Prussia had yet to think to even turn and look upon this woman's face. Who she was did not matter at all, just simply that she was there. Running from wrist to wrist was an unspoken agreement to share this moment with one another, and a hidden, binding kindship. So, when her fingers that were dampened with sweat brushed against his that were chilled by the November air, he couldn't deny her grasp.

11:59p.m.

Time was getting closer. The woman shifted from holding his hand to clinging to his arm for some sort of control. She jumped, and trembled, and smiled wider than she had in years. She shook Prussia's form until he pulled her into him. He'd still yet to see her face, but his new heart-sister had a head of red curls and clung to his shirt, both shivering from cold and shaking with unbridled elation.

His eyes watered, but he couldn't tell if it was from the temperature or the time. 11:59:15p.m. In forty-five seconds it would all end – and by the time he'd finished thinking that it was forty-two seconds. Heart-Sister began to cry and held her newest friend tighter. On the other side of that wall was her half-brother, and she needed to see him.

There were brothers on the other side, and sisters with cousins and nephews and fathers and friends. Some had never met, some would not recognize each other at first with all the new wrinkles and grey hair, and some had flowers to deposit at a long-lost headstone. Not everyone had someone else on the other side though; some people lost parts of themselves. Once they crossed they'd find their own completion, revelation, happiness, and freedom.

The little ones with their tired bodies, worn souls, and red and sliver heads needed to cross. Why didn't the time change faster? They held each other to keep the other somewhat sane; there were just moments now.

Someone screamed out "Zehn". It was a countdown.

"Neun

Acht

Sieben

Sechs

Fünf

Vier!

Drei!

Zwei!"

There was no "Eins!". By then Prussia had lost his heart-sister, and she had lost him, and everyone counting had lost their minds, and the night was filled with shrieks! They ran with no regard for anything but the wall. There was a speedy man, middle-aged, who Prussia saw pass through the borders first with no restraint. The very sight of such a phenomenon sent chills up his spine; or maybe that was the wind.

A bouncy head of red curls ran ahead of him, and he hoped it was his heart-sister sprinting forwards. His stomach twisted as he neared the boundary. But he couldn't figure out why he was scared? He knew exactly what was over there; blond.

The blond, bulky, little brother he'd left behind would be standing right on the other side in some halo of light. He'd pull him into a hug that warmed him from the inside out, just like the Kaba cocoa Germany loved so much. They'd laugh, and smile, and maybe cry, but then certainly make fun of each other for crying, and normality would be resumed.

He wasn't ready to cross. His stomach was still flipping and his body shook without the weather's influence. He needed to think, and to breathe, but those behind him were ready.

They pushed.

The other side looked just like his; but different. It was shrouded in the light of the street lamps, the moon, and the stars alike. But also in luminescent smiles and glowing embraces. A woman held a woman looking the same as her – reunited twins. A man raised a little boy over his head and planted a kiss on a sobbing woman's temple – a family that had been split up for two years.

"SON!" a voice cried, and for half a second Prussia fully expected his father to turn the corner.

A strapping young man knelt to the ground and wept into the grass. What had he found when he crossed? Perhaps it was no one and that had saddened him. Perhaps it was himself and that had moved him.

Everything happened in effervescent speed and a lucid slow-motion. Life had become surreal. Not surreal, but unreal. Prussia felt at any moment his body would drift into the clouds, or that his eyes would open, look through a fog of sleepiness, and behold again the stained ceiling of a Russian basement. Was he really standing in West Berlin? Was his brother really waiting for him?

His brother.

Germany.

Germany was waiting.

All at once the world found color again, his brain resumed function, and his being made sense. He had to find-

"Excuse me?" came a small, high pitched voice to Prussia's left. He looked, and his heart stopped. It was a little boy standing no taller than his waist and pulling on his shirt. "Can you help me?"

The child's eyes were a bright, sky blue. His hair was short, blond, and messy with slightly damp bangs. He wore the same suspenders, shorts, and white shirt Prussia had loved to see Germany in. His smile was a little brighter, and his nose was a bit smaller, but it was just like him.

Prussia knelt down and asked, "with what, child?" It couldn't be, could it? But nations had been through so much. China lived forever and a day, Poland was essentially resurrected, and everyone still wondered if Mr. Texas had in fact turned himself into a pair of glasses after his short time as a country. It was possible. This child bore such a resemblance to him.

"I have to find my cousin's house," the boy said, raising a sheet of paper with an address scrawled on it.

"Well," Prussia said, recognizing the street this house was on, "where are your parents to take you?"

"Daddy was killed," the boy said, just as Germany would have when asked about Germania, "and I never had a mom."

He was an orphan, just like Prussia would have been given that he existed in society as a human. An adorable little orphan boy who chose to ask no one other than Prussia on this monumental day for help. Prussia stood and took the paper from the child. It didn't make any sense, but it was possible. It was possible, but this kid couldn't be Germany.

"What's your name, son?"

He couldn't be.

"Hyde."

"And how hold are you?" Prussia asked, both relieved and disappointed. He handed the paper back.

"Six." Six and the orphanage had just let him roam free with a sheet of paper. Unbelievable.

"Well," Prussia stated, not able to pull his gaze from those icy, blue eyes, "your cousin's house is a while away from here, so let's start walking."

"Okay!" the child excitedly took his hand and they began on, "his name is J. He is adopting me. I'm going to live with him now." It felt just like old times.

"Is that so?" Prussia asked with a grin. It had been so long since his Germany, or Italy, Canada, or any of the younger nations were small. He'd completely forgotten how much kids loved to talk.

"Yea! The boys from the house said they'd come visit me and J. Do you know what dogs are like? J has a dog and he said it's big. I bet it's not bigger than me though."

Prussia laughed.

12:46a.m.

Hyde was a real trooper. In all the walking they'd done, and all the one steps Prussia'd taken that meant two of the boy's own steps, he hadn't complained. At least, not aloud. His face however twisted in pain and his head drooped with sleepiness.

"Hyde, why don't you ride on my back the rest of the way."

"No," the boy barely said through his haze of exhaustion, but by then Prussia had already kelt in front of him. He had walked right into him and Prussia scooped him up.

"Take a nap, Hyde. I want you to be ready to see your new family."

"I'm not sleepy."

12:49a.m.

Hyde was snoring quietly.

Prussia walked with him past a bar that had a presence throughout the country. He recalled going to one of them with Germany and Hungary. They drank a lot, and one of the three of them, who will remain nameless, ended up topless with her breasts covered only by napkins she'd stuck there with syrup.

Prussia smiled faintly. It had been thirty years since he'd seen his brother, and now the images of them swigging beers were foggy. He knew Germany was taller, but how much taller? Short enough that Prussia could just pretend he was the taller one, or tall enough that Prussia had to claim it was his awesome parenting skills that got Germany that big in the first place?

His knew his brother's hair was smoothed back but did the one fly away he was constantly worried about reside on the left or right side? Front or back? There were just some things he couldn't remember even after hundreds of years by his side. But tonight, or rather, this morning, so soon as he was done with Hyde, all of that would end.

He could see a blurry image of his brother's face, a muffled sound of his laughter, and something close to the shade of red his face would turn when a dirty joke made him blush. Hidden behind a sheer sheet were the girls who flirted with him, and the clothes he would wear, and that one time he got scouted for male modeling and Switzerland could not stop laughing at the poor man.

He was excited to have it cleared up, and to have his memories made whole again. His heart warmed at the thought of making more of them, and his faint smile brought light to the entire street corner.

He couldn't wait to go home.

1:37a.m.

"Hyde," Prussia cooed, shaking his back and patting the little face nearest his, "come on buddy, wake up, we're almost there."

Hyde mumbled something or other, but accepted being set on the ground, and started to walk with his hand in Prussia's and his eyes closed.

1:43a.m.

"What if…what if his dog is sleeping? Will he be mad if I wake him up?"

"Dogs like to make new friends. I think he'll be happy to meet you." Prussia recalled Germany's first time wanting a dog. He was only seventy when he laid eyes on a beagle and fell in instant love. He'd spent the whole walk home talking about how floppy his ears were, and how little his legs were, and how nice he looked.

Every dog they'd spotted since then was a guilty pleasure of Germany's; something that could steal his attention like a cat with yarn, and while he never said anything, you could see the love and desperation on his face as he struggled not to cuddle the creature. He hoped Hyde would grow to like dogs too.

"Are we there? Is one of these houses his?"

"Almost, Hyde." He hoped Germany would wait on him a little longer. They were nearly done.

1:47a.m.

Hyde jumped to reach and ring the doorbell. Immediately, there was a deep, rough bark.

"Sounds like a big dog indeed," Prussia commented with a smile towards the boy. The door swung open and a young man, maybe in his late twenties, stood in the doorway.

"Uhm," he looked Prussia up and down in shock, "Hyde?!"

"Oh no, Hyde is-" Prussia looked down to find nothing where the little boy was supposed to be. He felt a hand press into the space on the back of his knee. Hyde was hiding behind him.

"Come on buddy, we're here," Prussia said, lifting the boy by his armpits and placing him on the doormat.

The child looked up at his older cousin.

1:52a.m.

Prussia was asked if he was sure he didn't want anything to eat. He was thanked repeatedly and Hyde hugged him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He was thanked once more before waving and running off. He hadn't run a long distance in a while, but if he held out properly he could run the whole way back and not have to rest.

Which meant he would be at Germany's side quicker.

2:44a.m.

Prussia was running out of breath. His sprint and slowed to a run, and his run to a jog, and he desired his jog to become a walk, or a nice sit, but it was getting late. He hadn't seen the time but he knew it had been very long a time for him to ask Germany to just stand in the frigid air and wait.

By now there was probably a chance he wasn't waiting anymore. He could have just grown frustrated with his stupid brother like he always did and gave up on him, so what difference would it make if Prussia rested?

"And who told you you could stop?" he heard drill captain Germany yelling in Italy's ear, "Get up! Quit crying! Go!"

He imagined then that Japan was running alongside him, despite having been lapped once or twice as they often ended up, and fighting on. He always hid his exhaustion and instead was eager to receive and follow new instructions from his coach.

Even if Germany wasn't waiting for him by the wall anymore, Japan needed someone to run with, Italy had to have his spirits kept up, and he was sure he could hear a whistle blowing faintly. He held on to his memories and jogged a little faster.

"3:26a.m.," read the clock. Prussia stared at it for a solid ten seconds before sprinting ahead full speed. Had it really been that long?

3:35a.m.

There were still a few people out by the wall. A few, but one of them had to be Germany. He would have waited, wouldn't he? It was an awfully long wait… Prussia figured he should've found Germany first, and then taken Hyde to his cousin's house once they were together.

A pit formed in his stomach, but he decided to ignore it. Germany would still be here. There were still people walking around on this side, and probably some on the other side, and… he laughed, there's even someone on top of the wall.

The initial suspicion was ignored, but as tired legs carried Prussia closer and closer, he could've sworn the man pacing up there was rather large. And he looked blond from this distance. Did he have on a necklace that just shimmered in the light? Could it have been cross shaped?

3:37a.m.

"BRUDER!" Prussia cried, and when the call was made, the blond man jumped off the wall. That was him. It was him! He was really willing to wait nearly four hours for his idiot brother to catch up. He even scaled the wall to make himself easy to find.

All Prussia's thoughts left him and he could only focus on the burning of his heart. It was pounding so fast his entire chest throbbed, but they were almost at the finish line. Germany was right there. Just a little bit further. Three or four more strides!

Germany turned away from the wall. In those icy, blue eyes Prussia saw the city of Hamburg turn towards him. And the Rhine River that flowed through Germany's cheeks seemed surprised to see his brother. A smaller town called Essen barely had time to smile at the rushing ball of red and silver before Dresden and Leipzig and the Elbe River, and the Baltic Coast, and everything that Prussia as East Germany was, tackled his western brother to the ground.

As the map of a forsaken nation stitched itself back together, the East and West halves trembled in the cold of the November night. There was nothing on Earth strong enough to pull them apart in that moment; the other would never drift away again, they'd never leave their hearts half empty again, they'd never let parts of themselves be lost again.

The brothers could've both broken apart as ever-concealed pain, distain, mourning, and remorse was replaced with an excitement, and expanding joy that begged to break through their skin. Their words became an unintelligible garble of sounds, and instantly, they were sobbing, while laughing, and crying, but cheering, with screams and whispers mixed in.

They were stripped of the expectations and formalities of being men, and melted down into boys rolling in the grass in unfettered solace and jubilation. They held one another long enough and tight enough to re-live every memory they'd left behind twice over.

The people of East and West Germany alike stopped poking at the fire, or sipping their cocoa. The entire population of the nation felt a certain, indescribable tug in their hearts and warmth in their bodies as the two halves that represented their lands, were finally unified.

Praying by Ke$ha and Versace on the Floor are the actual jams right now. But anyhowdy, there goes your chapter! In MS Word it's 20 pages long so, Whooo! Screams! I think the end could use more emotion, but as we've discussed, I'm not good at writing happiness. I'm gonna try to read up and do better next chapter though. (Guys, our protagonist is actually about to enjoy himself! Wow! Who woulda thought I'd write such a thing?!)

In a previous review by a guest it was elaborated on the loads of reasons Romano is just not at risk of fading away. To you I say, thank you for your information on Italy, but I'm going to continue to use it as a trope for the story. I will tone it down a little though, I because I didn't mean Roma was going to be kissing the world goodbye tomorrow, it's just kind of starting up for him (and could totally stop if the two halves of the country differentiate themselves even more).

I just think Prussia needs someone who he can talk to (and it's cool that it's Roma because neither one of them would be completely open, which is fun to write if I as the writer can subtly [usually it's not subtle tho bc I'm a novice] make the reader understand they're hiding some of their feelings).

While I'm at it, I'll address 2 more of my guest reviews.

To Aqua – thank you for coming back repeatedly even tho you don't have an account (or I just can't PM you…) that's super cool fam!

To Guest who guessed "Tears of an Angel" – You are such a smartie. Lol that was so long ago, you may not even be reading any more, and I've certainly deviated from that format, but I just think it's cool that you guessed it so easily. :D

Furthermore, I gotta thank my main, Self-Inflicted Insanity, for helping me out yet again. Literally would not have finished this chapter without their advice.

Anyways, excuse me for these especially long before and after chapter messages, but it's been so long since I've talked to you guys that I just felt like I needed to explain a lot. And I like to share my discoveries to the probably 3 or you who read these parts (I don't blame you. If they're super long or pointless I skip em in other stories).

But to y'all who are reading, in the next chapter Prussia comes home and has a lil party. It's gonna be happy! There's like a…20% chance no one will cry? I mean I got through this chapter with minimal tears, so, it's looking up for them eyeballs!

Thank you for reading, and even if you're reading this 6 years after I wrote it, before you click "next chapter", do Mama (me. I'm Mama. For some reason.) a favor, and REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! I'd be nowhere without you guys' feedback.