Alone Together
anonymous
September 15 2009, 22:22:34 UTC
Prussia is the only one left alone.
Everyone else returned to protection, to safety. The Baltics and Poland are together always. His sisters have each other. Hungary has returned to the man she loves.
But Prussia... everyone knows how strong the division between East and West remains, how deep the scar is. Everyone knows that the brothers barely see each other, barely trust each other, despite being in the same house. Everyone knows that Prussia is alone.
And Russia is alone too, and that doesn't seem right at all. After all, don't they both deserve the happiness they used to have?
At first, he fights down the urges. He knows, dimly, that what he wants is wrong. The collapse of the USSR showed him that pain would only push people away. So day after day he just watches Prussia over the table at meetings, trying to control the desire to draw the other into his arms and never let go again.
I would give you walls, he thinks to himself one day as he watches Prussia try to speak with a brother that never responds. Wrap you in concrete and warmth and keep you safe forever, encased with me. We would never be alone again. Why don't you see?
But Prussia fails to see, and the conference ends without incident. Russia prepares to head home, alone as always -
But then he catches sight of Lithuania and Poland sharing a brief kiss before starting back, and perhaps that is what finally snaps him.
It would not be hurting him, he reasons, his mind suddenly seeming clear and bright again in a way it has not for years. It would be teaching him. And this time it would be better. This time Prussia would learn to be good. This time he would never ever leave again. And it would be wonderful.
As he boards the train to Berlin, the snow begins to fall.
---
Prussia likes to be left alone.
Alone, he can tend to his chicks in peace without having to worry about what his brother thinks of such a girly activity. Alone, he can play his music as loud as he wants without anyone telling him to turn it down. Alone, he can do whatever he wants and not have anyone care.
Alone, he doesn't have to deal with the pity in West's eyes every time he looks at Prussia.
He doesn't think about that last one, of course, when Germany tells him to head back to Berlin on his own. (Another meeting, a date with Italy, what would it matter to Prussia?) All he's thinking about is the games of Guitar Hero he'll play and the awesome time he'll have.
And when he gets home, he makes it a solid hour or two before the tears start.
It's not that he's lonely, he tells himself as he downs a beer. It's just that alone the damn memories come back - memories of his nation, of Fritz, of when West was still tiny and dependent... And memories sting. No matter how much he pretends that they don't.
He wipes the tears away and goes to stand and throw away the beer - but then there's a knock at the door.
For a second he hesitates, but then he goes to open it. It's probably West come home early, or Spain come by to talk, or France with a bottle of wine. Whoever it is, it's company, and he'd be damn grateful for someone to share his beer with.
He opens the door with a grin -
And before he can see more than cold violet eyes, he's tossed back into the wall, his vision blacking out for a moment as his head slams into the plaster.
Alone Together [2/2, I forget to put this in orz]
anonymous
September 15 2009, 22:23:28 UTC
When he can see again, it's to find Russia looming over him, a strange, wide smile on his lips. "Little one," Russia says, almost cheerfully, "I missed you!"
"Wh-what the hell are you doing here, bastard?!" Prussia scrambles to stand despite the pounding in his head, his vision swimming a little. "Get the hell out of my house!"
"Ah, but this is not your house!" Russia replies, his tone almost sing-song as he moves to pin Prussia against the wall. "Your house is... mmm... where, again?" With one hand he presses Prussia firmly back, while the other begins to unbutton Prussia's shirt. "Is not in Germany, da? I know that much, little one!"
"G-get your h-hands off me," Prussia growls, feeling almost paralyzed. Russia's hands are ice-cold against his skin, and he seems to feel himself freezing - but no, it's just his imagination, just the fear. He has to fight, to struggle, to escape.
He can't.
"Here," Russia whispers, placing his hand right over Prussia's heart. "Your core. Kaliningrad. Is not in Germany."
"It's Koenigsberg!" The thought of his missing capital brings a new stab of pain that does not come from Russia. He remembers even now the pain as it was ripped from him, the calm smile on Russia's face as he pulled Prussia apart.
The smile Russia is wearing now.
"Is Kaliningrad," Russia almost purrs, digging fingernails into Prussia's skin. "I will give it back to you. I will give you everything. I will let you have your name, your existence, your life, all if you come back to me." He's pinning Prussia with the weight of his body now, freeing the hand not on Prussia's chest to start tugging at his jeans.
"N-no, no, no..." Prussia's mind is racing. This isn't right, no matter how sweet Russia's words are. He still remembers concrete and pain and blood and the feeling of constantly choking on stale, cold air. He remembers the pain as Russia forced unity, the agony of the other entering and the suffering every time brought.
"You should not have to be alone."
Alone, alone, alone, always that word, always. Prussia is so damn tired of being alone, so sick of being the one left behind. He remembers the moments when it was warm, the times when Russia touched him gently and kindly, the joy of working with another to build the future.
Russia's voice is warm, kind, caring, pleading. "Come home with me, East."
And Prussia remembers his name, and gathers the strength to drive a knee deep into Russia's gut.
Russia stumbles back, his nails still bloody and his smile even wider than before. His eyes are cold and empty now, and the temperature seems to drop a little. "So little one still wants to be bad!" he says with infinite false cheer, all the warmth gone in an instant. "Then he will just have to be taught!"
The pipe seems to come from nowhere, and a second later it's slammed into Prussia's head, sending him to the ground.
He sinks into the darkness and the cold, dully aware in his last moments that someone is gathering him into their arms.
---
Germany arrives home late that night - the dinner with Italy was longer than expected, although it was pleasant enough. He's exhausted and looking forward to a nice bath and then some sleep. After all, he and his brother will have a lot of cleaning to do the next day.
He opens the door and immediately knows that something is wrong.
The house is silent and dark. Usually when Germany arrives home it is to find music blaring at top volume and all the lights turned on, no matter how much Germany scolds Prussia on the waste of electricity. This is wrong and empty and strange.
"Bruder?" he calls, and flips on the light.
The first thing he sees is the bloodstain on the wall directly facing him - a long splatter, with drops on the floor around it as well. Germany's blood goes cold as he slowly enters.
"Bruder, where are you...?"
And even though no reply comes, the stain answers the question on its own.
For the first time, Germany is the one to feel alone.
[I-I hope this is okay! Low on actual sexy, I know, but...]
requester!anon
anonymous
September 15 2009, 22:46:03 UTC
dlfkasj;falkgjs;flh
o-oh my god, anon. Oh my god. This is just. You have managed to bottle essence of Russia/Prussia. This has everything I love about this pairing, Russia's utter brokenness and being entirely well-meaning about his crazy and Prussia hating him, yet being so lonely and hurting and tempted and just. sd;flakdjg;dfkhjshl THANK YOU, ANON, THIS MADE MY DAY.
Poor Germany -- in a way I want to look down on him for ignoring his brother so much, but I can't help feeling awful for him, and horrified along with him. (In the best possible way. XD; You know.)
Re: Alone Together [2/2, I forget to put this in orz]
anonymous
September 15 2009, 22:56:13 UTC
But...but...what happens next??
Author!non, that was seriously awesome. I hope there is more to this because there honestly needs to be more! Please tell me there's going to be a continuation. D:
requesternon
anonymous
September 15 2009, 23:06:13 UTC
I- I thought the same thing, *cough* but I didn't want to be greedy. It's already amazing that this got answered at all, and with such a totally wonderful fill to boot... But if more popped up I would definitely be ecstatic.
Alone Together [3/4]
anonymous
September 16 2009, 00:30:40 UTC
[s-so I have no life anyways and figured I might as well do SOMETHING productive. This is pretty heavy on the darkness/violence, to warn you all now.
note: At this point I have veered off the prompt into my own weirdness, for which I apologize...]
He wakes up in darkness.
There's something wrapped tightly around his eyes, keeping him from seeing anything of where he is. He can feel concrete against his legs - his bare legs. He's been stripped. Handcuffs hold his hands tightly behind his back, and he's been chained into a position that forces him to kneel, his head low and his back straining with the tension.
His thoughts are still foggy - the pipe did a number on him - but he knows what has happened. He's been captured. And now that damn bastard has him.
It won't last. It can't last. West will come for him, he knows. Any second now he'll hear his brother's loud footsteps as the man comes to rescue him and get him home. Any second now this will be over.
But a small, traitorous part of him wonders quietly if West will even notice.
There's the click of a door opening, followed by slow footsteps on concrete. Not West. A different set of footfalls, a different presence that Prussia knows all too well.
"Good morning, Kaliningrad!" Russia says happily in his ice-cold voice. "Did you sleep well? Are you comfortable?"
"That's not my f-fucking name," Prussia replies between gritted teeth. "Let me go right now." He strains against the handcuffs, but all it gains him is a spasm of pain in his back.
"But it is your name, and you belong here." There's a soft rustle of cloth as Russia kneels by Prussia's side. "You are happiest here, da? You are meant to be here! Is no Prussia left, after all, but Kaliningrad still stands!"
"I'm Prussia." Prussia puts all the strength he can into his speech, glaring blindly at where Russia must be. "Not East, not GDR, not Kalini-AAH!"
All speech is forgotten as pain shoots through his body from his arm, a sharp electric shock that causes him to spasm and further damage his strained muscles. For a second Prussia ceases to think beyond the pain, the electricity cutting out all higher thought and leaving agony behind.
Then it passes except for a dull throb and Prussia hears Russia giggle next to him.
"You will not say stupid things any more, little one," Russia says happily, and beneath his voice Prussia can hear the faintest crackle of electricity. "I have ways of stopping you!"
"B-bastard..." Prussia pants, trying to recover as best he can.
"Now, now, if you keep up bad behavior I will have to be cruel again. But if you are nice..." There's a light pressure on Prussia's bowed head, suddenly. Russia is petting his hair, ever so gently. "I want us to be happy, Kaliningrad. Happy and together. I will take best of care of you, if you are nice."
And then Russia's lips are against Prussia, and for a second Prussia is just startled to find that they are warm, warm and soft and yielding and kind. He nearly leans into it, desperate for the small comfort, the first kiss he's had like this since 1786 -
But then he remembers again and digs his teeth into the soft flesh.
A second later the electricity comes again, and Prussia sinks into the agony almost willingly. Pain reminds him to hate. Pain keeps him focused on the fact that this is not where he should be. Pain is all that will keep him from giving in.
Eventually the taser is pulled away again, and footsteps start for the door. "We will try again tomorrow, little one." The door shuts with a slam.
Alone Together [4/4]
anonymous
September 16 2009, 00:31:12 UTC
---
The next day, he's awoken by the feeling of a hand on his shoulder.
"West...?" he says slowly, trying to force himself fully awake. The pain in his shoulders and back has faded to a dull throb, but by focusing on it he manages to bring himself closer to consciousness. "Is that you...?"
And he awakens fully as a high giggle cuts through the air, destroying his hopes.
"Do you think Germany is coming, little one?" Russia asks, reaching to gently stroke Prussia's cheek. "Because I do not think he is. Why would he? You are not even his territory."
"Because he's my fucking brother!" Prussia returns, practically shouting. "He's my family! Family cares about each other!"
"Funny, then, that before you were the one to build the wall!" Russia giggles and lightly pinches Prussia's cheek. "I think, perhaps, he will be glad to have you gone. Without you... no more ostalgie, no more division, no more trouble."
"N-no, that's not fucking true, that's not..." But Prussia remembers the times West shouted at him to get his act together, the scornful looks West had given him, all the times West had abandoned him to go to meetings alone. For a second, he doubts.
When Russia leans in to claim his lips this time, he does not pull away or bite, grateful for the warmth, and maybe he hates himself for it but it's better than hating West.
After a long moment Russia pulls away, his voice warm and kind again. "I love you always. I love you like he never will. And we will never have to be apart. You will never have to be alone."
"I... I..." Prussia shakes in his chains, no longer knowing what he's meant to feel. "W-West..."
"Forget West," Russia whispers, pulling off Prussia's blindfold so he can see Russia's eyes. Prussia had never noticed how warm they could be before. "You are mine now, Kaliningrad."
And Prussia, or whoever he is now, melts into the next kiss, trying to forget everything besides it.
At least it means he is not alone.
---
Months pass without any sign of Prussia. Germany searches frantically, looking everywhere, calling everyone, but nobody has even seen a trace of him. The house remains empty and alone, the pictures of Frederick II and the old posters and the stuffed animals left to gather dust untouched.
He takes to staying with Italy at night - being at home reminds him of who is not there, of who should be leaning over to bother him during work or offering him beer or telling him to come watch the big game. Being with Italy provides at least some noise and comfort, even if he still misses the loud laughter that used to pierce the silence of Germany's life.
It's late in winter at a world meeting that he finally sees Prussia again.
He's the first to arrive, as usual, and he spends a while setting everything up on his own. When finally someone does enter he looks up -
And his breath catches in his throat as he sees his brother standing in front of him.
Prussia has changed. He's thinner and paler, with what looks like a burn mark on his cheek, and he's dressed in an outfit featuring a long black coat and black hat that Germany recognizes as a Russian naval uniform. Worst of all are his eyes - empty and unfocused and lacking any of Prussia's drive or spirit.
"Hello!" Russia calls cheerfully, standing next to Prussia. "I have brought new little territory today! That is okay, da?"
"Pr-Prussia...?" Germany says, quietly, and those unfocused eyes lift to look at Germany.
The raw hatred and anger and sense of betrayal in them stops him dead, and for a second they share a look before Prussia lowers his head again, calm and empty once more.
"Perhaps you are making mistake. Is not Prussia, is Kaliningrad," Russia is saying, when Germany refocuses. "He is my favorite little one! And he will never leave me! Is very good!"
Germany nods silently and hands Russia the meeting notes, feeling numb and cold and alone.
Perhaps, he thinks dimly, this means his brother no longer is.
Everyone else returned to protection, to safety. The Baltics and Poland are together always. His sisters have each other. Hungary has returned to the man she loves.
But Prussia... everyone knows how strong the division between East and West remains, how deep the scar is. Everyone knows that the brothers barely see each other, barely trust each other, despite being in the same house. Everyone knows that Prussia is alone.
And Russia is alone too, and that doesn't seem right at all. After all, don't they both deserve the happiness they used to have?
At first, he fights down the urges. He knows, dimly, that what he wants is wrong. The collapse of the USSR showed him that pain would only push people away. So day after day he just watches Prussia over the table at meetings, trying to control the desire to draw the other into his arms and never let go again.
I would give you walls, he thinks to himself one day as he watches Prussia try to speak with a brother that never responds. Wrap you in concrete and warmth and keep you safe forever, encased with me. We would never be alone again. Why don't you see?
But Prussia fails to see, and the conference ends without incident. Russia prepares to head home, alone as always -
But then he catches sight of Lithuania and Poland sharing a brief kiss before starting back, and perhaps that is what finally snaps him.
It would not be hurting him, he reasons, his mind suddenly seeming clear and bright again in a way it has not for years. It would be teaching him. And this time it would be better. This time Prussia would learn to be good. This time he would never ever leave again. And it would be wonderful.
As he boards the train to Berlin, the snow begins to fall.
---
Prussia likes to be left alone.
Alone, he can tend to his chicks in peace without having to worry about what his brother thinks of such a girly activity. Alone, he can play his music as loud as he wants without anyone telling him to turn it down. Alone, he can do whatever he wants and not have anyone care.
Alone, he doesn't have to deal with the pity in West's eyes every time he looks at Prussia.
He doesn't think about that last one, of course, when Germany tells him to head back to Berlin on his own. (Another meeting, a date with Italy, what would it matter to Prussia?) All he's thinking about is the games of Guitar Hero he'll play and the awesome time he'll have.
And when he gets home, he makes it a solid hour or two before the tears start.
It's not that he's lonely, he tells himself as he downs a beer. It's just that alone the damn memories come back - memories of his nation, of Fritz, of when West was still tiny and dependent... And memories sting. No matter how much he pretends that they don't.
He wipes the tears away and goes to stand and throw away the beer - but then there's a knock at the door.
For a second he hesitates, but then he goes to open it. It's probably West come home early, or Spain come by to talk, or France with a bottle of wine. Whoever it is, it's company, and he'd be damn grateful for someone to share his beer with.
He opens the door with a grin -
And before he can see more than cold violet eyes, he's tossed back into the wall, his vision blacking out for a moment as his head slams into the plaster.
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"Wh-what the hell are you doing here, bastard?!" Prussia scrambles to stand despite the pounding in his head, his vision swimming a little. "Get the hell out of my house!"
"Ah, but this is not your house!" Russia replies, his tone almost sing-song as he moves to pin Prussia against the wall. "Your house is... mmm... where, again?" With one hand he presses Prussia firmly back, while the other begins to unbutton Prussia's shirt. "Is not in Germany, da? I know that much, little one!"
"G-get your h-hands off me," Prussia growls, feeling almost paralyzed. Russia's hands are ice-cold against his skin, and he seems to feel himself freezing - but no, it's just his imagination, just the fear. He has to fight, to struggle, to escape.
He can't.
"Here," Russia whispers, placing his hand right over Prussia's heart. "Your core. Kaliningrad. Is not in Germany."
"It's Koenigsberg!" The thought of his missing capital brings a new stab of pain that does not come from Russia. He remembers even now the pain as it was ripped from him, the calm smile on Russia's face as he pulled Prussia apart.
The smile Russia is wearing now.
"Is Kaliningrad," Russia almost purrs, digging fingernails into Prussia's skin. "I will give it back to you. I will give you everything. I will let you have your name, your existence, your life, all if you come back to me." He's pinning Prussia with the weight of his body now, freeing the hand not on Prussia's chest to start tugging at his jeans.
"N-no, no, no..." Prussia's mind is racing. This isn't right, no matter how sweet Russia's words are. He still remembers concrete and pain and blood and the feeling of constantly choking on stale, cold air. He remembers the pain as Russia forced unity, the agony of the other entering and the suffering every time brought.
"You should not have to be alone."
Alone, alone, alone, always that word, always. Prussia is so damn tired of being alone, so sick of being the one left behind. He remembers the moments when it was warm, the times when Russia touched him gently and kindly, the joy of working with another to build the future.
Russia's voice is warm, kind, caring, pleading. "Come home with me, East."
And Prussia remembers his name, and gathers the strength to drive a knee deep into Russia's gut.
Russia stumbles back, his nails still bloody and his smile even wider than before. His eyes are cold and empty now, and the temperature seems to drop a little. "So little one still wants to be bad!" he says with infinite false cheer, all the warmth gone in an instant. "Then he will just have to be taught!"
The pipe seems to come from nowhere, and a second later it's slammed into Prussia's head, sending him to the ground.
He sinks into the darkness and the cold, dully aware in his last moments that someone is gathering him into their arms.
---
Germany arrives home late that night - the dinner with Italy was longer than expected, although it was pleasant enough. He's exhausted and looking forward to a nice bath and then some sleep. After all, he and his brother will have a lot of cleaning to do the next day.
He opens the door and immediately knows that something is wrong.
The house is silent and dark. Usually when Germany arrives home it is to find music blaring at top volume and all the lights turned on, no matter how much Germany scolds Prussia on the waste of electricity. This is wrong and empty and strange.
"Bruder?" he calls, and flips on the light.
The first thing he sees is the bloodstain on the wall directly facing him - a long splatter, with drops on the floor around it as well. Germany's blood goes cold as he slowly enters.
"Bruder, where are you...?"
And even though no reply comes, the stain answers the question on its own.
For the first time, Germany is the one to feel alone.
[I-I hope this is okay! Low on actual sexy, I know, but...]
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o-oh my god, anon. Oh my god. This is just. You have managed to bottle essence of Russia/Prussia. This has everything I love about this pairing, Russia's utter brokenness and being entirely well-meaning about his crazy and Prussia hating him, yet being so lonely and hurting and tempted and just. sd;flakdjg;dfkhjshl THANK YOU, ANON, THIS MADE MY DAY.
Poor Germany -- in a way I want to look down on him for ignoring his brother so much, but I can't help feeling awful for him, and horrified along with him. (In the best possible way. XD; You know.)
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Author!non, that was seriously awesome. I hope there is more to this because there honestly needs to be more! Please tell me there's going to be a continuation. D:
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I'll think about writing more! Maybe tonight, if you guys don't mind me spamming the same request?
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this pairing seriously needs more attention. and you do it so well.
loved the bit you threw in about east and west still being divided. people look over that too often. <3
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note: At this point I have veered off the prompt into my own weirdness, for which I apologize...]
He wakes up in darkness.
There's something wrapped tightly around his eyes, keeping him from seeing anything of where he is. He can feel concrete against his legs - his bare legs. He's been stripped. Handcuffs hold his hands tightly behind his back, and he's been chained into a position that forces him to kneel, his head low and his back straining with the tension.
His thoughts are still foggy - the pipe did a number on him - but he knows what has happened. He's been captured. And now that damn bastard has him.
It won't last. It can't last. West will come for him, he knows. Any second now he'll hear his brother's loud footsteps as the man comes to rescue him and get him home. Any second now this will be over.
But a small, traitorous part of him wonders quietly if West will even notice.
There's the click of a door opening, followed by slow footsteps on concrete. Not West. A different set of footfalls, a different presence that Prussia knows all too well.
"Good morning, Kaliningrad!" Russia says happily in his ice-cold voice. "Did you sleep well? Are you comfortable?"
"That's not my f-fucking name," Prussia replies between gritted teeth. "Let me go right now." He strains against the handcuffs, but all it gains him is a spasm of pain in his back.
"But it is your name, and you belong here." There's a soft rustle of cloth as Russia kneels by Prussia's side. "You are happiest here, da? You are meant to be here! Is no Prussia left, after all, but Kaliningrad still stands!"
"I'm Prussia." Prussia puts all the strength he can into his speech, glaring blindly at where Russia must be. "Not East, not GDR, not Kalini-AAH!"
All speech is forgotten as pain shoots through his body from his arm, a sharp electric shock that causes him to spasm and further damage his strained muscles. For a second Prussia ceases to think beyond the pain, the electricity cutting out all higher thought and leaving agony behind.
Then it passes except for a dull throb and Prussia hears Russia giggle next to him.
"You will not say stupid things any more, little one," Russia says happily, and beneath his voice Prussia can hear the faintest crackle of electricity. "I have ways of stopping you!"
"B-bastard..." Prussia pants, trying to recover as best he can.
"Now, now, if you keep up bad behavior I will have to be cruel again. But if you are nice..." There's a light pressure on Prussia's bowed head, suddenly. Russia is petting his hair, ever so gently. "I want us to be happy, Kaliningrad. Happy and together. I will take best of care of you, if you are nice."
And then Russia's lips are against Prussia, and for a second Prussia is just startled to find that they are warm, warm and soft and yielding and kind. He nearly leans into it, desperate for the small comfort, the first kiss he's had like this since 1786 -
But then he remembers again and digs his teeth into the soft flesh.
A second later the electricity comes again, and Prussia sinks into the agony almost willingly. Pain reminds him to hate. Pain keeps him focused on the fact that this is not where he should be. Pain is all that will keep him from giving in.
Eventually the taser is pulled away again, and footsteps start for the door. "We will try again tomorrow, little one." The door shuts with a slam.
Prussia is left alone in the darkness.
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The next day, he's awoken by the feeling of a hand on his shoulder.
"West...?" he says slowly, trying to force himself fully awake. The pain in his shoulders and back has faded to a dull throb, but by focusing on it he manages to bring himself closer to consciousness. "Is that you...?"
And he awakens fully as a high giggle cuts through the air, destroying his hopes.
"Do you think Germany is coming, little one?" Russia asks, reaching to gently stroke Prussia's cheek. "Because I do not think he is. Why would he? You are not even his territory."
"Because he's my fucking brother!" Prussia returns, practically shouting. "He's my family! Family cares about each other!"
"Funny, then, that before you were the one to build the wall!" Russia giggles and lightly pinches Prussia's cheek. "I think, perhaps, he will be glad to have you gone. Without you... no more ostalgie, no more division, no more trouble."
"N-no, that's not fucking true, that's not..." But Prussia remembers the times West shouted at him to get his act together, the scornful looks West had given him, all the times West had abandoned him to go to meetings alone. For a second, he doubts.
When Russia leans in to claim his lips this time, he does not pull away or bite, grateful for the warmth, and maybe he hates himself for it but it's better than hating West.
After a long moment Russia pulls away, his voice warm and kind again. "I love you always. I love you like he never will. And we will never have to be apart. You will never have to be alone."
"I... I..." Prussia shakes in his chains, no longer knowing what he's meant to feel. "W-West..."
"Forget West," Russia whispers, pulling off Prussia's blindfold so he can see Russia's eyes. Prussia had never noticed how warm they could be before. "You are mine now, Kaliningrad."
And Prussia, or whoever he is now, melts into the next kiss, trying to forget everything besides it.
At least it means he is not alone.
---
Months pass without any sign of Prussia. Germany searches frantically, looking everywhere, calling everyone, but nobody has even seen a trace of him. The house remains empty and alone, the pictures of Frederick II and the old posters and the stuffed animals left to gather dust untouched.
He takes to staying with Italy at night - being at home reminds him of who is not there, of who should be leaning over to bother him during work or offering him beer or telling him to come watch the big game. Being with Italy provides at least some noise and comfort, even if he still misses the loud laughter that used to pierce the silence of Germany's life.
It's late in winter at a world meeting that he finally sees Prussia again.
He's the first to arrive, as usual, and he spends a while setting everything up on his own. When finally someone does enter he looks up -
And his breath catches in his throat as he sees his brother standing in front of him.
Prussia has changed. He's thinner and paler, with what looks like a burn mark on his cheek, and he's dressed in an outfit featuring a long black coat and black hat that Germany recognizes as a Russian naval uniform. Worst of all are his eyes - empty and unfocused and lacking any of Prussia's drive or spirit.
"Hello!" Russia calls cheerfully, standing next to Prussia. "I have brought new little territory today! That is okay, da?"
"Pr-Prussia...?" Germany says, quietly, and those unfocused eyes lift to look at Germany.
The raw hatred and anger and sense of betrayal in them stops him dead, and for a second they share a look before Prussia lowers his head again, calm and empty once more.
"Perhaps you are making mistake. Is not Prussia, is Kaliningrad," Russia is saying, when Germany refocuses. "He is my favorite little one! And he will never leave me! Is very good!"
Germany nods silently and hands Russia the meeting notes, feeling numb and cold and alone.
Perhaps, he thinks dimly, this means his brother no longer is.
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you made my heart ache ;^;
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this was so- guuhhhhhhhhhh. ;w;
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-growls and seeths for a while-
-gets over it-
This was good author!anon, excuse my rant at Ludwig
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F-fuck you, west! Why don´t you rescue him, u-uh!?!
OMG, I love ittttt, updateeeee!!! *keeps sobing*
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