I meet a wooly awesome friend… Are pancakes the secret to happiness?

America wanted to watch a meteor shower on the night of a full moon. I saw two meteors. America saw none because his eyes were glued to his Switch the whole time. And then he whimple-wussed at me for not zipping him into the mesosphere to see any meteors up close. I explained I'm a little iffy on flying people around after Germany didn't want to go home through the wall cloud. America said trying to tote my sensitive brother through a wall cloud is indeed a very dick move. And now it's two in the morning on a Saturday, and I'm lying in this central Minnesota field all stewy in my sleepiness.

"Ya gonna zoom home?" America asks over me.

"Eventually. I might just fall asleep in the grass here and hope there isn't any dark energy lurking about to tear me apart."

"Did Germany kick you out?"

"Nah, I kicked myself out. He could use a day or two without any nonsense in the house. Germany's lived through dramatic changes before, but he can't stand nonsense. He overanalyzes everything. Things have to be explainable and specific to him. It's why he never spends more than fifteen minutes trying to analyze a poem and he'd rather get to know people in person than online."

"There's nothing wrong with that. I like your brother. Germs is a wonderful guy. He's just a wonderful guy who happens to see human beings as human beings. Now that you're not so much a human being and more a… indescribable thing… "

Something within me goes liquid, and when I shiver, it splishes around under the warmth of my hoodie. "It's been really tough on both of us," I admit. "I try and try to explain what I've experienced, but it comes out sounding all wrong. I've always been loud, but not articulate. If Fritz were alive, he damn well couldn't teach Germany poetry, and where do you think Germany got his mind from? He's different, but he's still my brother. He's got my smarts and my strength. I tell myself he could understand if I explained well enough. The trouble is, I can't. I can't make him understand! He treats me like I'm crazy!"

America crouches down and gives that wide, thin smile he's supposed to mean as sympathetic. "W'll, I don't understand what the hell you're talking about sometimes either. That singularity, or some shit, with dimensions colliding in 2000? I don't remember anything like that happening. It sounds like something out of a movie, or like a video game. Maybe if you explained it more like a video game instead of real life—"

"Number one, this is real life, and number two, I couldn't do a good video game analogy. I was Prussia Klaus for 40 freaking years, and I missed the entirety of the 80s. Never even saw the point of video games until I played some on the iMac."

"Oh, the 80s were great!"

"That's what everyone tells me. But do I time-travel there to see for myself? No, because then everyone would pat me on the head and treat me like a toddler who finally learned what a great thing the potty is."

America slaps my leg a few times, (think he caused a bruise with that strength,) and stands up, trying to make out more meteors under the hopeless moonlight.

"If you sulk too much, life's gonna kick your ass. You taught me that a long time ago. I dunno what you're feeling, so I'll let you sleep in the field tonight if ya want, but when the sun comes up, you can meet me at the Perkins in Bemidji, and I'll make sure a stack of pancakes makes you feel better. All right?"

Some snide comment about his continuous complaining all night is burning in the back of my throat, but I curl up on my side, letting the soft orange glow of his departure fade in my peripheral vision. I don't know why I got so angry all of a sudden. It's not like the awesome me, and especially not like the new awesome me. Even that descriptor: New Me and Old Me. It's irking me. What does it mean? Does it mean anything at all? Am I a different person coming back from the dead? Or am I the same Awesome Prussia?

I'm not the maniacally vain Prussia of 700 years ago, no, and I'm not soaking the pillow in tears every night wondering what my purpose is…

"Germany, I'm sorry," I whisper into the sleeping wildflowers and the pines hugging the edge of the silent highway. A stray white hair sticks to the side of my cheek, and I groan while wiping it away with my sleeve. "I'm sorry for scaring you so bad at the mall. I'm sorry for all the time I spend in your bathroom now. I'm so sorry for cutting open your stress balls to see what was inside."

With each apology, my insides re-solidify, and my muscles start to relax. America's right. I shouldn't be all sulky. At least, not in front of him. Maybe in my own house, where there's a little fluffy bird cuddling in my hood and a brother who dries my tears with a bowl of banana pudding. My heart goes squeezy reminded of home. But no. Germany needs his time to relax. He's stressed too, and I won't allow us to be stressed all over each other. Neither one of us wants to admit the knot in his throat. Being in the same room together with throat knots makes us cranky. No. It's better if I sleep in this field with the frogs and the spiders and maybe find comfort in those pancakes, if I'm not too embarrassed or annoyed to share one more second with America and his Switch.

It's only the frogs and crickets I hear — nothing like the city. I let the wet stains dry naturally and take a huge breath in through my nose. If I fall asleep, my body will lose all rigidity. I'll become more imaginary than real, and when it comes time to dream, I'll rise up into the Anticanon to find an adventure or two before morning. Maybe I need a good distraction. Maybe I need…

All feeling goes out of my limbs. The physical universe slopes and curves above me, like I'm sinking below the surface of reality. I'm falling asleep. Letting go of my form and drifting into the void of consciousness. It feels good. I haven't slept in so long. This is just what I need. I'll be calmer in the morning. I'll be calmer—

"ME-E-EH!"

My body goes all tingly, and I whip myself back into total existence, literally whipping off the ground and into the air. My legs flicker, and my fingers are all misty, but I squish myself together and whip wildly around like a tornado, black, white, and red all over with the hoodie, to see what made that noise.

My otherworldly senses tingle, and my eyes go wide. There's a warp just beyond those trees! And not just any old dimensional warp, but an Anticanon warp. The fabreality curves, then breaks off, as if a vertical slit were cut right down the center of the landscape and the soupy swirl of nonsense beyond were peeking through.

"I didn't open that, right?" I whisper. I float over to it, marveling at the sheer sharpness of the cut. There's no blending of worlds at all. The rim of the warp is solid. Here is reality. There is a dream. There's a clean distinction in between. I've never seen anything like it before. Usually there's at least a shimmer or a cloud indicating a "looseness" in the universe's structure, and I'm the only one I know who can create and recognize those shimmers.

"Well, we can't have this open. I'm not gonna be the one to repair rip after rip in space-time if this one blows something up," I say, placing one hand on each rim of the cut. My eyes glow pink, and with my handy little entropy-reversing spell, I start smooshing the walls of the world back together.

"MEE-EH-EH-EH!"

I pause. That came from… behind me.

Down on the ground is a huge white cotton ball that's wiggling around as if alive. I float down and crouch next to it. Out of the cotton sticks a little black-furred face and a pink, heart-shaped nose. Wide eyes with horizontal pupils examine me and start to water. Four stumpy legs ending in hooves tremble, and a stubby little tail noodles around furiously. It's like a 3-D cartoon sheep come to life! Like if I were looking at one of those AR deals through my phone camera!

Then the creature's form glitches, flickers, morphs and grows. It bleats in pain, but when I reach out to grab it, it's already finished transforming. It looks more… real. No more computer graphic look, but a regular wooly-textured, naturally-occuring sheep! Albeit… a mutant sheep that looks like a giant cotton ball with eyes too big for its skull.

"Did you come out of the warp?" I ask, letting my left hand sink into the incredible amount of fluff on its body. "This is incredible! If you came out of the Anticanon and into the real world, and… and you're not disappearing like an imaginary sheep..."

I expand my awareness and place both hands on the wool. My consciousness bloats. Where the hell did this thing come from? Being the "indescribable thing" that I am, I'm more or less one with the universe as much as I'm its pointless, overpowered accessory. I can tap into knowledge of everything that's ever occurred or existed. This creature…

This particular creature is from a different universe entirely.

The Anticanon is like a mesh tube separating universes, and that's why you can dream about anything your heart desires. But even if this creature had the power to warp there physically like I can, how could it swim far and long enough through dreamland to end up so existentially far from home?

"How did you get here? Did you sense my power and follow it? I don't even know you. But there's no way you ended up here on accident. The universe isn't that big, but the multiverse is, sheesh, the odds are against you ripping a hole anywhere at all."

"Meh-eh-eh," it says, still in that cartoonish squeak of a voice, then bolts off toward the other side of the field.

"Wait! Stop!" I look to the warp, then to the sheep. Ach, I'll have to return it by myself. This warp can't stay open. I finish the spell, and my view of the Anticanon disappears into nothingness. Then I fly to the sheep, now wandering aimlessly and dangerously close to the road.

"Can you speak at all? Are you here for a reason? Why'd you come to this universe?"

"Meh-eh."

"If you can warp, surely you can communicate with me."

"Meh. Eh."

"So that's two syllables—"

The sheep literally bowls into me. Its wool is so thick, it rolls like a ball until it's sitting on my chest and I'm staring up into its cutesy face. I'm forced to wrap my arms around it, but my hands sink into the incredible plushness again, and I'm too stunned to move.

"Woah… you're so soft. It's not even itchy. It's like a thick cloud of pure floof! I'd wanna be the guy that shears you and gets a nice pair of winter socks."

The sheep bleats, and I feel like it's smiling at me. Then it cuddles even closer and rests its head on my shoulder.

"Do you like me?"

"Meh."

"I'm more than a 'meh,' but I'll take that answer. Mm, so warm, too, like a knitted blanket…"

My body shimmers and flickers as I fall closer and closer to sleep. But just before my consciousness shuts down completely, I see all the dimensions spread out before me in a rainbow gridwork. The sheep's body is pulsing like a beacon, and I see a broad band of energy tethered to its back ankle. It's the same kind of band I saw tethering Germany and me together back when I was trapped in the void. A love band. And it's leading toward somewhere in this world.

"You came here because someone loves you enough to wish you into existence. I didn't think that was possible. Well, I didn't think the Face-Eater coming here was possible either."

The sheep doesn't respond. It's fallen asleep on my chest, and its poofy wool is like a cozy fire melting all the frustrated ice in my heart.

"You came to me first, to comfort me. Thank you."

A soft, snoring bleat in the darkness. The wool seems to spread and melt all over my body, lulling me into a calm I haven't felt since I fell asleep against the washing machine on an underwear load. With my last yawn, I look toward my left hand and the cosmic distortions flaring out from my fingertips.

"Heh. I can just pop you in a little pocket dimension and help you find who you're looking for. Like putting you in a… Poké… Ball… "

I'm all gone for the night. But when I wake in the morning, the sheep is nowhere in sight.

~N~

My friend said, "Prussia needs angst." Okay. Here's Prussia being angsty and then cuddling with Wooloo because sad Prussia makes my heart hurt. Of course, he doesn't know who Wooloo is because Prussia's a genwunner if anything. He loves his 90s.

Updated by Syntax-N on FanFiction . Net August 28th, 2020. Reposters lost to the v Oi D.