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Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers
Age Two
Sun and Moon
"I can't take this anymore!" Mr. Beilschmidt shouted, his eyes narrowing, the veins popping angrily on his throat as he yelled at his wife. "I can't be the father to some disgraceful little wordless brat anymore!"
"He's your son! He hasn't done anything wrong!" Mrs. Beilschmidt cried, fat salty tears streaming down her face, "you can't just abandon your two children and wife!"
The German man sneered in disgust. "That wordless brat is not my son. And for you to have birthed such a thing means you could not be my soulmate. There must be some mistake." He clutched the handle of his suitcase tightly, glaring at his wife. This entire society was based around a silly little sentence you were born with, a sentence that the universe had somehow saddled you with. It changed everything. And for his son not to have one, to be empty, to not be complete... Surely there must've been a mistake. He had his own sentence, surely his second son should have one too.
But he didn't.
This could't be his son.
Mrs. Beilschmidt looked as if she had been slapped. Shot. Stabbed in the stomach. Her husband had always been a harsh man, but never to her, not like this. They were soulmates. She loved him, and he loved her, unconditionally and always. How could this happen? Her eyes widened to an impossible size and her mouth fell open. Rivers of plump tears ran down her cheeks furiously as she covered her hand with her mouth. Too shocked to speak, she stared at the man whose sentence was inked on her wrist shove his coat on and walk to the door.
How could this be possible? It was his sentence on her wrist 'are you okay, miss?' it read, and his had the matching words of 'you saved my life'. Their words went together, they were soulmates. She loved him more than life itself. He was more important to her than the sun in the sky, than her own life, than her children. She loved him more than anything.
And now he was leaving.
Part of her burned with resentment towards him, towards her young son and towards herself. If only he hadn't been born, he wouldn't be leaving. But no, she had a wordless son and the cost of having this new child was that the love of her life was leaving her. Of course, she knew this wasn't the proper way to think. She loved her son, she loved her special little Ludwig. Ludwig was the sun and her precious Gilbert was the moon.
But Mr. Beilschmidt was her whole world.
She wanted to be angry, she wanted to curse and swear at her husband for doing this to her, for even thinking that it was okay for him to just leave her, leave their children just because one of them wouldn't have a soulmate. It was cruel. It was cruel, and the worst part was that she couldn't make herself stop loving him because of it. She could still remember how she met him, she could still remember their first date and the way he proposed, and how everything felt right when they were together. Couldn't he at least have let her come with him?
Her heart felt broken, and her blue eyes watched her husband shove his feet in his shoes. What about her children? How could they be raised without a father? Gilbert would know, he would understand. But Ludwig... what about Ludwig? Was she to tell him that it was his fault his father left? He was so young, how could he be raised without a father?
How was she going to do this on her own?
Gripping the knob tightly, Mr. Beilschmidt threw the door open and marched out the door. And then he left, suitcase clutched tightly in his hand as his cold blue eyes never looked back at the house that held his two sons and his soulmate.
Meanwhile, an eight-year-old Gilbert refused to let the tears fall down his cheeks as he watched his father leave, tightly hugging a baby Ludwig who sobbed into the crook of his neck, although the child did not know what was happening.
"It'll be okay, it'll be okay." Mrs Beilschmidt mumbled, mostly to herself, but also to her albino son who ran over to her while clutching the wordless infant. Gilbert used one hand to support Ludwig, and his other hand clutched his mother's shaking hand. "Everything will be okay, we'll be okay," she whispered, "we'll get by just fine." She choked out those few sentences, although she didn't believe her own words.
The cries of 'please don't go' and 'come back' died in his throat and young Gilbert did not yell out to his father whom had never even said goodbye to him. The pale haired boy did not shout out to his father to turn around, to please come back to them. Instead, he clamped his mouth shut and held onto his baby brother a little bit tighter.
He had to be the man of the house now, he had to make his mother smile and make sure his brother had a good life, with or without words. That was his job now. He had to be mature, he had to be strong.
Gilbert's red eyes burned with tears he would not let escape as he watched his father walk down the driveway and never turn around.
To be continued
Coming next: Age 6