Part Time Waiter, Full Time Country

Chapter 12- Germany

I watch as Italy walks away. I can't believe it. I fell in love with someone I thought could never love me back, and then find out that that person has loved me for centuries. Literally.

I smile, and turn to walk back inside. I gently close the door behind me, and lock it. I turn around to walk up to my room, and find Prussia standing behind me, smiling like the idiot he is. "Well?" He asks, looking expectant. "Well what?" I retort, annoyed at the look on his face. "Well, how was your first real kiss?" He asks, red eyes glinting. I feel my face heat up, and stutter a bit. "W-What are you talking about?" I ask, realizing he must have been watching out the window. "You kissed Italy. I saw it. So, how was your first kiss?" Now my face feels like it is on fire. "Um, well... Gut. I suppose." He laughs, his red eyes shining with humor at my embarrassment.

"I am going to bed." I mutter, and push past him. I pass Austria on the stairs, once again on his way to get tea. "Don't spill." I bark at him, taking my annoyance at my stupid brother out on him. He looks offended, but just glares at me, and threatens to play piano all night. I tell him I have work tomorrow, and need to sleep, and he huffs, but then walks away. I get to my room and collapse into bed, not even bothering to take my suit off. I lay there, contemplating the day, until I finally fall asleep in the early hours of the morning.

I get up in the morning and go for my usual run, coming home sweaty and tired. I take my shower, and get dressed for work. I go to gel my hair back like I always do, but stop when I see my reflection. I am wearing a black suit, and with the white shirt underneath and my hair down, I look just like my memories of my younger self. I stand in front of the mirror, debating whether I should gel my hair back or not, and eventually decide against it. I will try leaving it down for once. I finish getting ready and pick up my briefcase, throw on a jacket (a big black one which only serves to make me look MORE like little Holy Roman Empire) and head to work. I spend the day doing calculations and weighing numbers, and getting complements on my hairstyle. I must admit, I kind of like it myself. At the end of the day, I am in a good mood. I walk out the office door, swinging my briefcase and humming a tune. A few of my coworkers look at me like I am insane as I pass their cubicles. I never act this happy.

I hum quietly to myself the whole way to the diner. When I walk in, I find the diner in chaos. Customers are being apologized to profusely, then asked to leave, and waiters are running in circles. I pull a waiter aside and ask what happened. He yells back to me in a thick Spanish accent that one of the other waiters was in a terrible accident, and is dead. I feel myself panic, as I search the room and can't find Feli anywhere.

Oh my god, what if it was him? I stand in the middle of all the chaos, people running around me, yelling, and soon hear an ambulance pull up outside the door. I step back as a team of paramedics runs in with a stretcher, and heads straight to the kitchen. I know I shouldn't, but I follow them anyway. As I walk through the doors to the kitchen, I find even more chaos. People are running around, some are on phones, some are holding bandages and other medical supplies, and a few are crying. I crane my neck in an attempt to find Italy, but can't see him anywhere. There is a huddle of medics in the middle of the room, surrounding what I can only assume is the body. A few of them step back, and I see a small curl bouncing through the air between them. I feel all the strength leave my body, and slump onto a counter.

No. Please don't let it be him. Please please please don't let him be...

A few more paramedics step back, and I see then lift the body onto the stretcher. As they walk calmly back out the door, obviously not in a hurry because there is nothing they can do, I get a look at the person on the stretcher. I feel tears appear in my eyes, and my heart skips a beat.

It isn't him.

I turn, and find him standing where the paramedics just were. He is staring at the ground, where there is a puddle of blood covering the floor. I walk over, and place my hand on his shoulder. He jumps, and whirls around to look at whoever is touching him. When he sees me, he smiles.

I wrap my arms around him, too relieved for words. He looks surprised, but hugs me back anyway. "Ger- Um, Mr. Beilschmidt, why do you look so worried?" I step back, holding him at arm's length and looking him over. "I couldn't find you anywhere. I thought you were the one that died." I whisper, and he nods. "Oh. I was trying to help. When the waiter slipped and fell, he fell on a knife that had been on the plate he was carrying. It stabbed him in the neck and he started bleeding a lot. I know a lot about medicine, so I tried to help, but it was not enough. The knife has stabbed him right in the left Carotid Artery, and there wasn't much I could do. He was dead before the medics got here." I listen to his explanation, surprised at how calm he is about the death of a coworker. "You are surprisingly calm about all this." I comment, and he shrugs. "I have seen a lot of death over the years. It doesn't really affect me that much anymore." I look at him in surprise, wondering how such a sweet, childish person could ever get used to something like that. He smiles at me, and then says I had probably better go home. I nod, knowing that there won't be much dinner serving going on for a while, and tell him to be careful. Then I walk back out the door, and turn toward home. I walk in silence, my happy mood completely gone.

When I get home, Gilbert is once again on the couch. He sits up when I walk in, and looks confused. "You are home really early West. I was expecting you to stop at the diner." I place my coat on the coat-rack with a sigh, and walk into the living room. "Ja. I did. They weren't exactly in the best order though. One of the waiters was killed." Prussia sits up straight. "It wasn't Italy, was it?" He asks, visibly worried. "No, he is fine. One of the other's fell on a knife and died." I explain, as Austria comes down the stairs. "Did I hear something about Italy dying?" he asks, looking as scared as Prussia did. "No. Well, sort of. One of the waiters at the diner died, but it wasn't Italy." I repeat. Roderich heaves a sigh, and turns to walk away. "I'm glad. I would hate to see you as distraught as he was when you "died" all those years ago."

I ignore Austria's comment, and walk upstairs. I sit in my room and read for a while, until I finally fall asleep.