Prussia felt his mouth dip into a frown, yanking the balloons out of the way as the stairway door slammed closed behind him.
It'd been awhile- almost a year, in fact- since he'd started… whatever this was, and the fact that he still couldn't think of a name for these little trips to the roof kept nagging at him.
But then, it also wasn't urgent, was it? He had all the time in the world to think.
Who knew how long he was going to be stuck here 'cause of politics.
Shrugging, he pulled himself out of his thoughts just as he reached his usual spot, plopping down onto the hard concrete, crossing his legs and pulling one of the balloons close, the familiar weight on his head meaning that Gilbird had settled in his usual spot again.
Holding it out in front of himself, Prussia realised that he'd written down 'Protection' on this one beforehand for some reason, and he scrunched up his nose when it became apparent that he also couldn't remember whether he'd meant being able to protect people or the wall protecting people.
The fuck happened to his 'rule' about no depressing shit?
Wait, no.
On second thought, his thoughts always leapt off the deep end so it'd only cause him more trouble anyways.
Prussia raised the balloon above his head, admiring how the sun's light passed through the half-transparent red material as Gilbird landed on his lap, chirping happily.
Chuckling at the familiar ticklish feeling of his old companion wiggling his way inside his shirt, he let go of the balloon, tilting his head back to watch it twist and turn its way into the sky.
Even if he didn't have the power to protect anyone aside from his brother's people and Gilbird, it was always better than nothing.
And that was why on the next balloon, the wind playing with his hair, he wrote down 'Faith'- something that still confused even his awesomeness every now and then.
Gilbird poked his head out of the collar of Prussia's shirt, lightly settling into the crook of his neck, and he couldn't resist reaching up to pet him with his free hand as he let out an amused huff while his thoughts wandered off again.
The definition of faith to him was… complicated, to say the least.
For one, he didn't really believe that he'd get his land and people back anytime soon anymore- not that he'd lost faith, per se, but Königsberg was Kaliningrad, now, and no matter how he wished it still was, it wasn't German anymore, was it?
Even if he got everything that'd been Prussian back now, it still wouldn't be his because it was Poland and Russia and West's and he'd still be a nation without his people, and what good would it do, anyways?
Leaning forwards, Prussia kept the balloon close to his chest as he tried to ignore the absolute silence in his head, the emptiness that always appeared whenever the topic of his nationhood came up suddenly all that he could focus on.
Königsberg hadn't been his heart for decades, too, and from what he'd heard and seen the Allies were encouraging his former people to call themselves Germans instead of Prussian, spewing shit about how his country and his militarism was the origin of them, disregarding the fact that he'd been so awesome and forward that he'd been one of the countries with the most religious freedom-
No.
He closed his eyes, suddenly very aware of his erratic breathing and racing heart.
He had to stop going down that train of thought, or he'd end up crying on the roof again.
His fingers were starting to hurt for some reason, too, and looking down he realised he was holding the balloon tighter than was reasonable.
Staring at it incredulously for a moment, Prussia barked out a harsh, slightly hysterical burst of laughter before covering his mouth, taking a deep breath in an attempt to pull himself back together.
"Hah…."
Gilbird chirped worriedly, rubbing himself against his neck, and he breathed out as he reached his free hand to rub against the chick's fuzzy coat, finding the familiar feeling of soft feathers against his palm soothing.
He closed his eyes for a second, relishing the quiet, for once, before releasing the balloon in his grasp.
Yeah, faith. Complicated.
It was another moment or two until Prussia felt like grabbing another balloon, and as he reached behind him he flicked the cap off his marker again with a finger- this time, he wrote down whatever was on his mind again, that thing turning out to be Immortality.
Prussia couldn't help but stare.
It was true that it was because of it that he was going to even have the chance to see the wall fall in the far happier future, but in hindsight it'd caused a shitton of trouble and pain, like seeing generation after generation of your people die, not being able to die yourself if you wanted to, seeing your mortal loved ones die, the list went on.
But it'd also let him build up an awesome country, see West grow up, fight all he wanted and not kick the bucket on the battlefield, too.
Gilbird landed lightly on the balloon, then, and both of them stared at each other for a moment before Prussia huffed, cracking a smile at how he kept thinking himself in circles.
There was 'nother plus. If immortality hadn't been a thing, then GIlbird would've been long dead, or maybe they wouldn't even have met in the first place, considering he'd found him around… the 14th century, was it?
Letting the balloon go, Prussia chuckled at how a panicked and surprised Gilbird flailed around on top of said object, almost falling off before regaining his balance and settling into his hair, giving Prussia an angry yet light peck on the scalp before falling quiet.
Guess not dying was good for some things.
The next balloon was another pre-written one- memories- and Prussia scratched the side of his head as he blinked at it.
Nations… had long memories. They had to, being as old as they were, but sometimes Prussia wondered if it was the blessing some of the others considered it to be.
There were times that he certainly wanted to forget some of his more… violent deaths, especially the ones from his childhood, as well as the entirety of the things he'd seen during the two great wars.
Not to mention his dissolution. They didn't talk about his dissolution, and Prussia didn't like thinking about the pure agony that'd been his people, his land, his whole being ripped away from him, just leaving… Gilbert. Plain old Gilbert.
He still clung to his name, though, because names held power, and he'd been going by Prussia for so long by then it'd just felt wrong for the others to only address him by Gilbert.
Gilbird chirped from the top of his head as another breeze ruffled his clothes, Prussia humming in response.
It was funny that he hadn't started aging- something that he'd thought was bound to happen at first- but look at him now, almost half a century later and still not looking a day older than when he'd first gotten dissolved.
He still stood by his point that it wasn't because he was East, though, because he'd know if it was.
No matter what the others thought.
And then there were the many pleasant, if not happy memories that he wouldn't give up for the world.
Like that time he and Spain and France stumbled across a village in Essen and rode on the cows and got chased away by an angry mob, or West tripping over his own sword back when he'd just been created, or just his awesomeness carving his way through Austria's men and kicking the prissy aristocrat's ass.
Prussia let out a chuckle at the memory, throwing the balloon into the air and watching it fly away, Gilbird chirping happily above him.
He was alive, and that was what mattered, yeah?
And this time when he reached out beside him for another balloon Prussia stretched his arm out just a bit too far, his heart doing a flip in his chest the moment he realised he'd lost his balance and nearly falling face-down onto the concrete, Gilbird taking off from atop his head as he flailed his arms in an attempt to not do that.
Catching himself with a hand on the ground beneath him, Prussia just stared blankly forwards in a moment of shocked silence before breaking into laughter, stretching out a hand for Gilbird to land on, muttering inbetween giggles, "You little traitor," mock-glaring at the innocently confused bird.
Prussia huffed out another laugh as he pushed himself back upright with the balloon in his grasp, taking out his marker while Gilbird settled onto his shoulder again.
Thinking about the end of the war just made him think about West again, and that in turn made him think of how the world- or Europe and Asia, at the very least- had kind of been… rearranged by the Allies after that shitstorm in a way, so.
Beginnings seemed fitting.
You could define them however you wanted, but they were everywhere you looked, no matter what you thought.
Ends always came before them, after all, and even before the world wars had rolled along everything'd been changing for a long while already.
Gilbird pressed himself against Prussia's neck again, breaking him out of his thoughts for a bit as he smiled and stroked his old companion's feathers.
The ancients had faded a long time ago, one by one, taking with them the people the nations'd come to see as… parental figures of a kind, as much as Prussia was loathe to admit.
Germania had never really liked him as much as the others- yes, Prussia might've been adopted and a piece of shit, but that didn't justify the favoritism- and to this day he still held a bit of a grudge, but damn if he hadn't looked up to the guy when he'd been alive.
He'd been just as lost and confused as the others when Germania had just… left, one day and never came back, but at the same time he'd been one of the first to get his shit together and move on.
He let out a long breath as Gilbird snuggled even closer to him, releasing the balloon along with his thoughts of Germania after a moment of silence, watching it disappear into the sky.
His feelings for the guy'd been conflicted for a long time and Prussia wasn't really sure he'd resolve them anytime soon, but this would do for now.
He'd survived everything the world'd thrown at him so far, he was awesome enough to make it through anything else it- or the other nations- wanted to chuck his way again.
It was easy to follow that train of thought back to his current circumstances, and as Gilbird continued to make himself comfortable in the crook of his neck Prussia wrote down 'seperation' on yet another balloon.
The word certainly defined the entire situation he was in right now.
Prussia leaned forwards, rubbing the side of the balloon absently as thoughts of West came to the forefront of his mind again.
It'd been a while since they were last able to see each other, and last time'd only been stolen seconds from when they'd brushed past each other in the hallway of the meeting building.
He startled as Gilbird chirped from atop his head- he hadn't noticed him flying back up- flicking his eyes skywards.
The next world meeting was in… December, was it? Maybe they'd get some time to themselves, then.
Yeah, he thought, letting this balloon go as well, smiling at the prospect.
Just a few more months to go.
—-
82
—-
Prussia came up to the roof on a whim, this time.
Not because of a drunk bar fight, not because he was feeling mushy, but because he'd seen the near-empty helium tank and the few balloons he had left lying in a corner of his dingy apartment, looked at the calendar marked full to the brim with his schedule for the next month and went fuck it, it wasn't like he had anything better to do.
And as Prussia again swung his legs over the edge of the roof, overlooking the evening sky of East Berlin with his anchor rock in hand, Gilbird taking a nap on his head, he wondered- not for the first time- what he'd do when the wall finally fell, whenever that might be.
Of course he'd go find West, first and foremost, but what about after that?
Prussia wasn't a country anymore and neither would the German Democratic Republic after reunification- he knew that much.
Or maybe it would be the Federal Republic of Germany that'd cease to exist, but Prussia preferred to not think about that.
Back to the point- he had a lot of loose ends to tie up, and he didn't know where to start.
Tapping his heels against the concrete side of the building, he pulled a balloon close, pulling out his marker and writing down 'friends' as he thought of the people that didn't hate him as much as the others- or used to, at least.
Prussia paused, the cool wind slipping in despite his jacket and pressing against his side, recapping the utensil and throwing it carelessly onto the ground beside him, holding the balloon's string tight in his free hand.
Would they still consider him a friend after… everything?
The rumbling of the cars down below served as absent background noise as he pondered that, the sky above now a slightly darker blue.
Kind of close to Prussian blue, now that he looked closer.
The thought lifted his spirits just a little bit, but because even the awesomeness of a color bearing his name couldn't distract him from his issues with international relations he was back to thinking about the latter soon enough.
It was going to be hard starting over.
And yes, it was starting over because pretty much all his friendships had kinda been destroyed in the wars, but it was going to be fine.
Gilbird was still fast asleep in his hair as he slumped where he sat, fiddling with the string on the balloon he was holding and bouncing his heels back against the side of the roof again.
Maybe he could get West to arrange a meeting with France and Spain for him when he had the time- wait, no, using West would just make the others think he was a coward or something, but he wasn't Austria- better to just do it himself.
No matter how nervous it made him.
The familiar weight on his head suddenly lifted, and Prussia found Gilbird hovering in front of him again, twittering happily.
He felt his lips twitch into a smile as his old companion flew circles around him before turning his attention back to his thoughts, the setting sun casting dim red light over the both of them.
Speaking of which, maybe he'd go pester Austria first. The Priss must miss him after so long without his awesome company, and without Hungary to keep him sane he imagined that he must've fallen back into old habits of having a piano as his closest friend, and at that he tilted his head back, snickering alongside the honking of cars from down below as Gilbird settled lightly onto his shoulder.
But back to France and Spain. Spain… he'd definitely need to bring some tomatoes as a peace offering. And beer, too. Lots of it, because that conversation required both of them to be at least a little bit drunk.
France, on the other hand. Well.
He let out a long breath, pulling his legs back from the edge and crossing them in front of him, leaning forwards.
There was.. a lot of shit they needed to sort out, to put it lightly, and it wasn't going to be easy even for his awesome self.
Yup. Yeah. He was not looking forward to that.
Letting his back fall flat against the roof, Prussia exhaled again, raising an arm and letting go of the string attached to the balloon, smiling apologetically at Gilbird as he jumped up from his shoulder, panicking and chirping frantically for a moment before pecking his forehead and staying there, his claws tickling his skin.
He let out an amused huff at that, reaching up to pet his old companion, who tried to ignore his touch but ended up snuggling against the palm of his hand.
They stayed that way for a few more moments, staring up at the dimming sky and the sound of the city in their ears before Prussia reached up for the very last balloon, picking Gilbird off his forehead, ignoring his startled chirp as he settled him into his hair.
Leaning forwards to pick up the marker from where it was on the ground as he pushed himself back upright, he twirled it in his hand, bringing it down to just before the balloon's surface before hesitating at the very last second.
What kind of word would be worthy of being the finale of his pseudo-therapy sessions?
He hummed, the cool wind brushing past his face as he thought back to the words- or phrases- that he'd let go over the past… year and half, maybe, finding that a lot of them kind of related to West and his current predicament in some way.
…huh.
He hadn't noticed that before.
It did give him an idea, though.
Coming to a decision a moment later, Prussia lifted the pen up and bit his lip as he wrote down the word in mind, ignoring the squeaking of nib on plastic as always, a sense of satisfaction and giddiness and strangely, melancholy washing over him as he finished.
He stood up and held the balloon in his hand by the string as he looked over the rooftops of East Berlin- night had almost entirely fallen by now, the sky near-black with splotches of lighter blue-grey here and there and the light pollution from the lights of the city obscuring the stars completely, casting a soft, unnatural glow above the silhouettes of the buildings.
As Gilbird pressed closer against the top of his head, Prussia made his way towards the edge of the roof, putting one foot on the ledge.
He raised his head to stare at the expanse of the city before him, the cacophony of urban life below trailing into his ears and accompanying the cool wind gently blowing against his side, and for one wonderful, glorious moment he felt like his people were back and he was truly Prussia again, their voices his mind and their life his warmth-
And then the feeling was gone as sudden as it'd come, leaving him acutely aware of what he'd lost and probably wouldn't get back.
A particularly strong gust of wind snuck past his jacket, and he shivered as he pulled it closer.
Taking a step back, Prussia yanked the balloon down one last time before thinking it over, finding the black letters stark against its red surface before closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath.
"Right, right," he muttered, raising the balloon up high with a smile he wasn't sure was happy or sad, "I guess this is it, then. 99 balloons."
Gilbird chirped, and he waved his free hand carelessly.
"Yeah, yeah, I know I should get on with it, stop nagging me, wouldja?"
Prussia returned his attention to the balloon, and with one final deep breath he let it go, watching its slow ascent into the night sky, the lights from below giving it a barely noticeable yellow tint.
How everything related to his current situation hadn't been the only factor connecting the phrases and words that he'd put on the balloons together.
Everything'd stemmed from him thinking that all of this was temporary, that the wall would fall, that he'd see West again, and as Prussia tracked the last red balloon's path he knew that this was a perfect end for this little rule-bending endeavour, because, because, he'd written down every single letter, every single word and even his thoughts of pushing through his predicament had come to be due to just one thing.
Hope.
—-
99
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