Your Smile.

Your Smile: 1.the Diary

Spain walked in through the kitchen door and sat himself down next to brother. He looked a bit down.
"Hello Spain! How are you?" I asked.
"Hello Italy." he muttered back.
"What the hell is wrong with you, you tomato bastard?"Romano questioned. Both of us could see there was something off.
Spain reached for brother's hand. "Prussia's gone. He wasn't needed anymore. now the only nation with two representatives... is yours."
"What!?" brother tugged roughly at his hand as Spain stared up at me.
"What do you mean, Spain? Where's Prussia gone?" I asked nervously.
"He's dead you idiot!"Romano barked at me.
"But... wasn't he .."
"One German's enough. He's gone. You are the only pair left." Spain sounded on the verge of tears, holding tightly onto Romano's hand.
Both of us knew what the Spaniard meant. Romano glanced up at me.
"Spain relax" I said, giving my best smile, "You have no reason to worry about us... but, who told you about Prussia? Germany hasn't been talking to me properly in ages."
He looked up again. "Was out with France. We were about to go get Prussia, we met Austria on the way. He told us. Germany's kept quiet about this... I think you should go see him once. Apparently he won't talk to anyone."
The fork fell out of my hand. Pasta can wait. I need to get to Germany... oh no... oh no... Germany!...
I got up and rushed out, leaving the two behind, holding each other close.
-×-

I reached Germany's front door and stopped just before entering to catch my breath ... I had really stopped running since Germany stopped training me.
"Italy?"
"Ah! Mr.Austria!... Is it true? Is Prussia really..."
His eyes were red. Mr.Austria had been crying? That's new... oh right! He was one of Prussia's oldest friend after all.
He nodded, taking out a kerchief to wipe his face.
"Did Spain tell you?"
I nodded. "May I ...?" I pointed to the door.
"Did you ever get to know Prussia? Do you remember him?" he asked me.
"I do remember seeing him a few times at your house back when I lived with you... and we got along quite well recently. But... how is Germany doing? Is he OK?"
"I haven't seen any expression on his face in the last few days. He hasn't even slept or eaten. Go see for yourself."
Oh no. Oh no. "Right away Mr.Austria!"
I dashed in at once.
"Ger-" I caught myself before I could finish. Shouting would not be appropriate. I wondered how Germany was feeling. Of course I knew he was sad, but how much? The brothers got along well enough, but I'd never felt they were as close as Roma and myself ... but it's hard to tell when it's Germany we're talking about.

The living room was empty... and in a rather dusty and messed up state. This was so unlike Germany. All neat piles of old books and documents and paintings all scattered about... had he been searching for something?
I walked on my tip-toes to his bedroom. There he was; at his desk, with his head down.
Oh no...
I rushed towards him... his back was still rising and falling with a shallow rhythm. I breathed a sigh of relief... I don't know why I was suddenly scared. I moved to the side and looked at his sleeping face. He looked so young. Like a little boy, all his sternness gone. I couldn't help the little smile on my face. Oh sweet Germany, what are you doing to yourself?
"Germany" I whispered. Normally, that would be enough to rouse him, but he didn't budge. I reached out to touch his cheek, and that's when I saw it. His cheeks were stained ... He had been crying.
I don't know why, but this realisation hit me in the face like a brick. Germany ... my brave strong Germany, had passed out from exhaustion and ... tears.
"You are so stupid Germany. Why do you do this to yourself? You know I'm right here, why can't you just talk to me?"
He remained unreactive as I gently ran my fingers through his messy blond locks.
He was still clutching his dear old fountain pen in his hand. He had been writing?
I noticed the thick black volume beside him. A very old Diary, bound in leather, and still in proper shape.
I took the pen gently from his hand and set it aside. I draped the blanket on his bed over him, and picked up the diary.
Is this Germany's? How stupid of me, of course it's his! ... Should I read it? I don't think so, after all, it's his personal diary, that would be rude...
But I want to help him! I can't bear to see him so broken... with his skin so much paler and his body so weak, I have to help him! And he won't talk to me either... this is the only way.
I took the volume outside with me to the yard and sat down. Damn consequences! Germany comes first.