Memories: Rewritten

Chapter 1: Guten Morgen

(Check out the Inspo/Ambience Playlist at https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PL7238DO0bdOUZo3hb9Ox8ZnQhutq_xPx6)

When he felt the smooth wood against his hands once again, Germany knew to focus. He slowly opened his eyes and found himself gripping the small pushbroom. He twirled it in his hands, desperately searching for signs of familiarity before the pain set in. The headache set in, an excruciating pain that forced his hands to move towards his head, the forgotten pushbroom clattering to the ground. His weak heartbeat fluttered in his chest and head. An unknown voice cooed in his ear, Don't worry...you'll be okay..., and they mumbled a name that escaped his memory.

The name, Germany thought, I have to get the name, the name, what is the name? Ask him, ask him for the name, the name, the--

"Name!" he gasped. He sat up quickly, his chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath. As his breathing began slowing to its normal pace, he glanced around the room. It was morning.

The same dream. He rubbed his bleary eyes.

Germany had been experiencing this dream every night for the past week. Its significance was unknown, but its recurring nature meant that Germany realized it must be important. The dream started innocently enough with a sensation in his hands, a smooth object spinning between his fingers. The next night, he focused more on this sensation, realizing that it was a piece of wood; two nights later, it revealed itself to be a small pushbroom. These miniscule details revealed themselves with great concentration, but the meaning of the dream eluded him and he was determined to fix that. Something about this strange dream cut deep into his soul and he found himself unnecessarily disturbed that the name escaped his knowledge; perhaps it was the simple fact of not knowing who this person was, or perhaps it was the dehumanizing nature of not knowing a name, or perhaps his feelings on the matter were, too, a mystery.

Germany pushed the covers back and stepped out of bed, stretching as he grew accustomed to being conscious again. Recognizing that he needed coffee to kick his senses into gear, he left his bedroom and made sure to close the door behind him, always meticulous to the small details. This was a habit he had picked up from Austria.

He descended the wooden staircase, the floorboards creaking beneath him as he made his way to the first floor. The bottom of the staircase opened to the living room, bright with morning sun that made the dark floorboards spar. Though Austria's extravagance sometimes irked him, Germany couldn't deny that the Turdor-style house was stunning in both location and decor. Sharing a home with Austria and Prussia proved to be an interesting experience, to say the least, but Germany often reminded himself of how lucky they were to live in a place like this.

Germany stepped into the kitchen, the sunlight glistening even brighter across the white countertops. The counters lining the wall housed a large window that provided a beautiful view for the boys to see as they made their morning coffee, and ironically, at the center island sat Austria sipping a cup of Earl Grey. Germany felt unkempt next to Austria, wearing his black tank top and boxers as Austria donned his typical white dress shirt, white jabot, and black dress pants. As he entered the room, Austria quickly glanced up at him, then looked back into his tea cup. The steam from the fresh cup of tea slightly fogged his glasses.

"I thought you would never get out of bed," Austria said, "very unlike you."

"It's still early," Germany responded. He made his way to the coffee maker and opened the cabinet above it, revealing the coffee grounds and paper filters.

"True," Austria nodded, "you're better than your brother. I typically don't see him until lunchtime."

Germany laid the filter in the coffee maker, carefully scooping the grounds into the machine. "Should I make a full pot?"