The story on the other side of Switzerland wasn't much different.
The awkward silences didn't bother Prussia much. The constant sighing, staring off into space, occasional hidden tears, none of that bothered him.
Or so he liked to think.
If he allowed himself to acknowledge that seeing his brother like this was tearing him apart inside with the same level of ruthlessness for every last one of those 800-something days, he would lose it. Germany was hardly taking care of himself anymore. Prussia couldn't afford to break down, too.
He didn't like to pay attention to those depressing things. Day after day, he'd gotten by via sticking to a daily routine. The routine did not include a time scheduled for "freak out about your and your sibling's encroaching loss of sanity", so he did not do so. Not so difficult, right?
Hah.
It was getting to be too much. Prussia knew it, and Germany could probably tell, too. If he had to make one more excuse to Spain as to why he couldn't hang out, if he had to cook one more meal, if he had to let one more hot girl walk by his window without doing something-
Doing something. Those two words stuck after the rest of the thought was gone. Even Germany looked up from the sofa and into Prussia's widening eyes.
"Bruder? What's wrong?"
"Nothing… I just realized something I have to do."
Action. That was exactly what was under his skin and burrowing.
Saying he hadn't wanted to help would have been the lie of the century. He was an older brother, a caring one. But somehow, not until now did he realize he'd been caring in the wrong direction. He'd spent this time trying to help Germany directly, with immediate symptoms of his sadness and lethargy. No matter how much he tried to duct tape his brother (actually, the biggest smile he'd gotten out of Germany since this started was one day when he came in without a word and just started duct taping the crap out of him. There'd been a half-second glimmer of laughing white teeth from the younger) he'd never done a thing to try to fix the original problem.
'If I called Romano and asked him for help… no, Romano hates Germany. He's probably trying to make Italy forget about him… But something tells me if that is the case, it's not working. Even if Romano were heartless enough to try, he can't keep lying to himself forever… Well, I've lied to myself for two years, but that's not the point. The point is, I have to try."
'I should have known it wouldn't be that simple.'
Ever since his "take action" plan was hatched a few days prior, Prussia had called every contact number he knew for Veneziano. He'd called when he knew he would be there. He'd called during the most and least likely of times. He'd called at five in the morning, but nothing, at any of his homes.
He sighed as he pressed on the receiver's switch, then released it, dialing one last time the number for Italy's home in Venice.
'What to do now? Going on a man hunt for him would be both insane and impo-'
"Pronto."
"Ah- er, yes, pronto!" Prussia sputtered, as an elderly-sounding female voice came on the line.
"Chi parla?"
"This is It- I mean, Feliciano's friend, Gilbert. I was wondering if he is around."
"Oh no, I'm afraid he is not. He has been with his brother in Sicily for a few weeks now."
"Grazie. Would you happen to know his brother's phone number?"
"Si, he wrote it down for me in a little green booklet… now where did he put it? Oh dear, now what did I do with that booklet? I tell you what, Gilbert, is it?"
"Si."
"I look for the number and I call you back to tell you soon, va bene?"
"That sounds fine, thank you."
"Good. Well then, ciao!"
"Hold on a-"
The line went dead before he could remind the lady that she needed his phone number to call him back. He shook his head, smiling, and redialed the number.
But no one answered.
Seven more attempts did not do the trick. The little old lady never picked up the phone again.
"Scheiße!" he growled, throwing the phone roughly back onto its hook. So close, and the forgetful old bat had taken it from him.
The scent of progress, fresh in the air, was making the whole situation claw at him even worse than before. Pacing back and forth, sufficiently agitated, he had a choice to make and lacked the right frame of mind to do so responsibly.
Before he could think again, a bag with a few day's worth of clothes and other necessities was slung over his shoulder, and he was calling a good friend while pulling on his shoes.
"Yeah, now, if you could… Sorry it's such short notice, but I need to get there as quickly as I can… I'm worried, too… Would you really do that for me?… Bernd, I couldn't ask for a better friend right now. Yeah. See you in five."
"Bruder?"
Prussia froze for the first time since his conversation with the housekeeper ended abruptly.
The pathetically meek voice belonged to Germany, who was poking his head around the archway leading to the kitchen. He'd been much quieter and less gruff, sort of like he was when he was a child. This fact was one of the few that Prussia did not mind. If he even thought about enjoying having this semblance of his cute baby brother, though, he would become angry with himself. Time had helped him learn to ignore the urges to feel more than negative about Germany's disposition.
"Are you going somewhere?"
This voice was weaker than most, though. Other than for work, for the past several weeks since they returned from the war, Prussia had not left Germany's side. But if there were two things Prussia knew at the moment, they were these two. One: This was not optional, or negotiable in any way. Two, his brother looked and sounded like a puppy whose owners were going on vacation.
Gently, Prussia laid down his bag, and took the few steps over to his sad-looking brother. He stopped in front of him, trying to figure out what to say to comfort him. But there weren't words to make, "I've got to go to Italy for a while to find your best friend and get him back by your side, where he belongs. I don't know how long it will take, and I don't know if I'll have good news when I return. But be strong, baby brother. Be strong for yourself, and me. Please," sound any better.
So he didn't use any. With tender and understanding hands that only a sibling could possess, Prussia pulled Germany's head to his chest and hugged and nuzzled him tightly.
"I'm sorry, West… your big bro's going to be gone for a few days. I need you to stay here and take care of yourself as best you can, okay?"
"Can't I come with you…?"
"I wish you could. But I'll only be gone for a little while. I'll be back before you know it." He let Germany go, taking both of his hands in his own. Germany, however, refused to meet his gaze, and tears seemed even more likely than they were moments before.
'He's like a five-year-old…' "West. Look at me... Germany…" Prussia sighed in an annoyed yet patient way. "Ludwig."
He had always used that name as a way to indicate to his brother that he was serious. And he most certainly was.
"I swear to you, I'll come back. I will be thinking of you the entire way there, the entire time I'm there, and on the entire way home. There is no way I could leave you here without thinking of you the whole time. We are brothers. We've been together for almost two hundred years. There's no way I couldn't come back, because I love you more than anything, Ludwig. I'd do anything for you. And that's why we have to be apart for a little while. Okay? Just remember that if you miss me. I love you."
Germany nodded in return, the corners of his mouth just barely upturned in a sad but accepting smile. Prussia smiled back, standing on the balls of his feet in order to kiss Germany on the forehead. At that moment, the headlights of a car filled the room with flighty shadows and brightness from the outside.
"Bernd is here," Prussia said as he once again grabbed his bag, and pulled an overcoat from the rack next to the door. "He'll come in and check on you every so often, and let him know if you need anything. I left his number by the phone."
"Okay... Prussia?"
He turned as he flung the coat over his shoulder, halfway through the door. "Yeah?"
He was met with a warm smile, the first he'd seen from him in years, and the kind he was terrified he would never see again.
"I love you, too, Bruder."
