A/N: Alright everyone! This is the final chapter for The Color White! Give me a cheer because it's one of the only multi-chapter stories that I have ever finished! Unfortunatly, it's not the best and the chapter's end is sort of...Well, it made me wonder if I should have ended this last chapter. Or maybe even with the first chapter and just kept it a one-shot. The thing is, happy-endings aren't really my thing. In fact, I very rarely do happy anything. So this was a pretty big change for me. Not to mention it's only my second time ever writing Prussia so I've been obssesing about keeping him In Character.
I hope you all enjoy this story, and this ending, more than I do!
Upon entering Mathew's house, Gilbert had not hesitated to demand he be made pancakes for dinner. The blond had just given him a smile and dissapeared into the kitchen, asking him to go and check on Kumajirou.
"Make sure he didn't wreck the living room, eh?"
So, with a laugh, Gilbert had taken his own route through the Canadian's home. Which was how he found himself sitting on the floor, red eyes narrowed, next to the small bear.
Kumajirou had been sprawled out on a large, red pillow on the couch watching a cooking show on the tv. After a quick glance around the room, Gilbert decided that the house was still in pretty decent condition. At least, he didn't think that there was anything broken or missing. It had been several years since the albino last entered the Canadians abode.
Or...Was it longer than that? Prussia remembered streets filled with smog and gunshots in the background and a blond haired nation that smiled through it all.
Now, Prussia had to wonder how much of that smile had been faked and how badly hurt Canada really was that day. When did that day even take place? He honestly couldn't remember, and that brought a frown to his face and guilt swirling in his stomach.
It was with that thought in his mind that Prussia had attempted to sit down on the couch. Very nearly loosing his hand in the process.
"Not for you." Kumajirou growled at him, sharp teeth showing.
So Prussia, not wanting to loose a finger or anything more vital, settled for sitting on the floor. He stared at the show, watching as the chefs ran around and tried to make full meals before the timer stopped, but didn't really watch it.
His mind was elsewhere.
On darker times.
Times when the streets of what used to be his country were filled with blood and pain. When his own slip of paper had started to change color. From it's original dark shade of blue to the deep crimson of blood shed. The sickly green hue it took on when his people started to die to the grey it changed to right before the wall was tore down. And then, when it turned white, everyone was just content to sit back and let him dissapear from existance.
Oh, Germany had tried to stop the decision, sure. But that didn't mean much. No one really cared what the large, blond had to say. They were just as furious with Germany as they were with Prussia.
When England decided to just destroy Prussia's status as a nation...The slip of papers last change was finally made clear. White meant he was to give up, to go away, and be forgotten.
His younger brother remembering him wouldn't be enough to keep him alive forever. Everyday, Prussia's ties to the world got thinner and thinner. Everyday, he walked down to breakfast and Germany would look at him like it was a surprise he'd made it down the stairs.
Near the end, it had been.
Then, one day, Prussia woke up feeling just as powerful as he always had. One day, he walked downstairs and saw Germany thanking a vaguely familar blond. Later that evening, Prussia was told that the blond was Canada and a part of the northern countries land had just been named after him.
Prussia's paper stayed white but, because he was never forgotten, he never faded.
His brother and Canada, though it was no doubt mostly Canada's donation of the land now titled New Prussia, had kept him alive and kicking. And how had he repaid the northern nation? By letting him go through the same ordeal with nothing but a polar bear to keep him anchored to the world of the living, by forgetting him unless he needed something, by letting him stay isolated even when he tried so hard to be seen.
The realization made Prussia sick.
When Canada came into the room, the scent of freshly cooked pancakes drifting after him and the smallest of smiles on his face, Prussia wasted no time in jumping from his seat. Crossing the room quick as he could, the albino wrapped his arms around Canada and tugged the younger nation into the tightest of hugs.
"I am so sorry, Birdie. Gott, you have no idea how sorry I am!" Prussia pulled Canada close to him, resting his chin against blond hair and blinking hard to clear suddenly blurry vision. "I promise you...I promise, I will never, ever forget you again!"
Prussia meant it too. He would never forget the northern nation and he would do his damndest to keep everyone else from just looking through Canada.
For a moment, Canada stiffened. The arms suddenly flung around him made him freeze, his heart stop, and his stomach drop. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been hugged; but he could, and it was so long ago that thinking about it did nothing but bring up memories filled with hurt and a time when America never forgot who he was.
Prussia didn't pull away though. In fact, when he realized how tense the hug made Canada, he just sqeezed tighter and murmured faster. Things Canada thought he would never hear again. Things that, though he really didn't believe when Prussia said 'never', made his eyes start to burn and his chest start to ache.
And when, eventually, a sobbing Canada finally leaned into the hug, the whispers stopped and Prussia just stood there in silence; and in the background, Kumajirou let out a quiet "about time."