About six or seven months later, while I was curled up in my armchair in the corner of the library, Britain approached me once again. This rarely happened, so I was quite taken aback by her sudden presence, yet I wasn't at all worried anymore (on the contrary to the constant fear associated with my old home).
"Good morning, West," she nodded, allowing me to lean against her side, which I had taken to doing for comfort.
"Guten Morgen, Frau Großbritannien," I smiled back, though perhaps a little insincerely as I was more concerned with the reason for her visiting me so early.
Seemingly realising what I was thinking, she got straight to the point, explaining, "The UN is coming over to visit later!"
"Oh," I muttered, disappointed that it wasn't anything really cool like an alien invasion or Halley's Comet.
"So," the UK continued, "Would you like to help me make lunch for him?"
"Ja!" I gasped, practically jumping out of my seat, "But... Isn't cooking just for girls?"
"What? No, of course not! Who told you that?"
"Vater..."
"Figures," Britain muttered, "West, ignore him. I know he was your father, but he did nothing but hurt you and the world. He was lying to you almost constantly, dear..."
"I know," I whispered, tears leaking from my eyes. He'd ruined everything. And above all, he'd hurt East and Poland and Czechia and Austria and Croatia and Hungary and Belgium and France and-
"Oh, West..." Britain sighed, handing me a pile of tissues she'd pulled from her pocket, "I'm so sorry you went though all of that... I'm sorry I didn't put a stop to it sooner..."
Shrugging, I buried my face in her shoulder, leaning on her entirely. She didn't return the hug; I was terrified of being held in such a way and she understood that hugs were a special thing saved for me and Berlin only. I was glad she paid attention to little details like that; nobody else really seemed to, even East at times.
Though, the idea of hugging Britain was becoming less and less alien by the day, and I had often debated doing it... But I wasn't ready yet.
Soon enough, I shifted away from her, tiptoeing up to my room and preparing myself for the day. Slipping on a black and gold hoodie that had been bought for me by Berlin on his last visit, I found my way to the kitchen, smiling at Britain as I took my place beside the counter.
One thing that I soon realised was that Britain couldn't cook to save her life. I had no idea it was even possible to burn pasta before it was in the pan, but the UK managed it nonetheless. Despite never having cooked in my life, I found myself instructing her on the (rather simple) process of making a spaghetti bolognaise, now rather grateful for all of the days I spent listening to Italy talk endlessly about cuisine.
I adored the food as I scooped it into its bowls; by no measure was it world-class or deserving of a Michelin star, but it was made with love, something I'd rarely ever experienced before. As I finished dividing up the pasta, a soft knock on the door echoed throughout the building. Grinning, Britain rushed to the door, opening it to an exhausted United Nations.
"Rough flight?" I heard her sigh sympathetically.
"I've had better," he groaned, stepping inside and gazing around as I had done months before. Spotting me, he smiled and waved, taking a seat around the kitchen table. I handed him a bowl, placing mine and Britain's on the table as I did. As the UK went to sit down, I caught her arm and pulled her back, doing something that I could have only dreamed of months before, now sure that I was ready: I hugged her.
YOU ARE READING
I, Deutschland
Fanfiction(ART IS NOT MINE!) After my biological father died, I was left all alone... My sister was taken from me and I was left with the most difficult decision I had ever faced: through all of my tears, I had to choose a Westerner to take me in, and I was i...
