Fast update to apologize on such a bad service i do to all the people who actually like the crap I write. Wee are at one of the last chapter of this story and you all have no idea how happy I am to reveal tr ending of my story. It's going to be awesome!

Disclaimer: I don't own hetalia

Canada peered into the dark as he walked down the stairs. He couldn't see his bear anywhere, which wasn't reassuring. Behind him, Italy was making a small whimpering sound and Germany was trying to calm him down, all to no avail. The American nation was glad they had decided to join him because he had no idea what he was going to find in his boyfriend's room.

The light switch was turned on, which took Canada by surprise. Germany had found the switch on the wall and using the new light, the three stared at the basement.

It was like no one had ever lived in it, nothing on the floor, bed made and a neat bookshelf. Not what Canada was expecting, but he had completely forgotten how much the older brother was very similar to his younger. Leave it to Prussia to have a perfect room.

Despite the room being clean, there wasn't any sign of Kumajuro.

"Germany, are there any other rooms in the basement, besides this one and the bathroom?" Germany nodded and pointed to a narrow hall that had escaped his gaze earlier. He turned down it and opened the door at the end of the dark hall. Inside was a polar bear and a chick, surrounded with envelopes, paper, and a huge mess.

"Kuma! What do you think you're..." He saw what the letters were. The 6 or 7 letters each were addressed to a nation, one of Prussia's friends. Austria, Hungary, Spain, Germany and France, there was also one for the Allies but God only knows what he wrote to them. He spotted his own name in the envelopes, poking out from under a lot of sheets of papers.

He walked shakily towards the letter addressed with his country on it, looking at it as if it contained a bomb. He tried to open it, but found the seal was made with wax and he would need a knife or something to open it. Canada had a pocket knife he had gotten from America on hand, so it was substituted as a letter opener. The paper inside was clean, but far from neat. The handwriting was chicken scratch and the words curved all over the page. He could read it though. The scrawl was so familiar Canada could almost hear Prussia himself saying the written words.

Dear Canada,

The heart's true calling isn't to keep up alive. Not to keep our blood flowing and circulate and stuff. For a heart isn't just an organ for us nations, it's true. My heart is the thing that lead me to you. It filled me with warmth at the sigh of your eyes and when you weren't with me, my heart made me cry. I am not saying that this is a fault, no, just the opposite, for you are my love. My heart is the source but within seconds of being with you, I loved you with my mind, body, and soul. It was true love, it happened like that. For Canada my dear, you loved my right back. I want you to know, this letter doesn't just come from my heart, but it comes from me, my everything single part. I am not always deserving of an angle like you, but together we are a whole, one not two. The way this is worded, it wasn't quite right, but I sat here thinking, all through the night. I am dying tomorrow and I could never lived enough, to show Canada how much I loved him, how much. My love for you is as strong as steel, but stronger. I am weeping now, knowing I won't see you much longer. It may be true that my heart wrote this poem, because if it was, it's clear my heart isn't a poet. Set all of that aside and know that your loved, by the awesomest, albino, Germanic nation of all.

With more love than I could have every lived to give,

Prussia

Canada's resolve crushed. The tears ran hard and fast out of his violet eyes, dripping onto the letter. He let the page drop, and he himself fell to his knees. Prussia wasn't the best poet in Europe, but nothing could have worked any better than Prussia's dying letter to his boyfriend.

Little did he see, but Gilbird had. Left the room, taking the remaining letters with him.

If you are wonder, this is before anyone else got their letters. I screwed shit up with the story's time line so sorry about that! I am a horrific poet, but so is Gilbert!