Memories: Rewritten

Chapter 4: Fresh Air

Germany slipped out the front door and gently slid it shut, waiting for the click of the latch before he turned away from it. Prussia had not returned home. Austria had not left the drawing room. Germany had sat on the floor in a stupor for a while after the fight, and when he regained his strength, he asked Italy to pick him up later. Now that nighttime was upon them, reflecting on the day's events under the star-speckled sky seemed like the best way to process his feelings.

Italy followed Germany's explicit instructions as he approached: turn off the headlights, pause the music, and slowly roll to a stop in front of the house. It reminded Germany of his adolescence and he felt a faint smirk curl at his lips, but with those memories came Austria acting as a pseudo-parent, and the bitterness of the present day took it away as quickly as it had appeared. Germany sighed inadvertently as he opened the car door.

"Vee~, this is like when we were teenagers, Germany," Italy smiled sheepishly as Germany buckled the seatbelt.

"I was just thinking the same thing."

"How is your head?"

"Dull pain, but manageable," Germany replied. He pulled a bottle of ibuprofen from his pocket and shook it, the pills clamoring together. "I have these with me in case I need them."

Italy nodded and switched the car into drive. He slowly let his foot off the brake, allowing the car to silently roll forward and past the house. Once past the lot, he flipped the headlights back on and drove normally.

"Thank you for picking me up tonight," Germany said, tucking the bottle back into his pocket, "I needed time away from there."

"I've been really worried about you all day, so I'm happy I can help! Are you sure you can walk? I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'll be fine."

The story of the explosive afternoon tumbled out of Germany's mouth as if he only had five minutes to tell it. He relayed every excruciating detail, every emotionally-charged glance, every weaponized word. All his life, Prussia and Austria shied away from discussing personal matters. They concealed their deep-rooted emotions and vulnerabilities to the point that Germany realized that open conversation would never be an option. He felt deprived of that basic need. Small family matters and superficial emotions were discussed at times, but the guttural rage and anguish that rose to their tongues today stemmed from years of stifled emotions that were left unaddressed. Feeling like there was no one to talk to, Germany turned to exercise as a coping mechanism. It was only the development of his relationship with Italy that made him realize the value of open communication. He valued finding the heart of the issue, and if he could pinpoint the exact cause of a thought or emotion, he could better deconstruct it. The stonewalling of Prussia and Austria did not allow him to find the heart of the issue. The basic familial information he sought from their blowout fight would have given him everything he'd needed. And he'd been deprived of that, too.

The pair pulled into a parking space and Italy switched the car off. Italy had taken them to the local park. As they stepped out of the car, Germany felt around his pocket in pursuit of a particular item. His shoddy memory served him well tonight; one cigarillo remained in waiting. The last time Spain stopped by their house, he brought Germany a pack. Germany seldom smoked, but on a night like this, he hoped it would ease his anxiety. Italy and Germany began walking down a trail that ran through the park as Germany fumbled for his lighter.

"I don't even know where to begin analyzing this shit show," Germany admitted as he lit the cigarillo. He breathed in and felt the smoke ruminate around his mouth, the warmth already aiding in appeasing his nerves. As he exhaled, he imagined his anguish escaping with it.