Bibliotheca Mundi

Chapter 2

Paris. France is now home, his mind tormented by what happened to the German soldiers. Without taking a minute to rest, he prepares to go to Germany. "I need to check up on him..." he thinks.

A little more than two hours later, he was walking in the streets of Berlin, towards his friend's house. Passing by the newspaper kiosks, he could guess the big titles of the day. Floral stores, that usually had buckets full of colourful flowers displayed on the sidewalks, were left with only a few withered ones. Above his head, white clouds, as far as the eye could see, hiding the sun and the blue sky. Trying to warm up his hands in the pockets of his trench coat, France is now standing in front of the door.

Feeling his heart beating stronger inside his ears, France hesitates at first to bother Germany, taking a few seconds before ringing the doorbell. Light, quick steps could be heard running to the door, that opened to reveal a tired looking Italy.

"Oh, ciao France !" he says quietly, before looking back inside the house. "It's France ! May he come in ?"

No response was heard by France. "I don't want to bother, I came to see how he is feeling..."

"It's alright, you can come in~"

"Merci."

While France enters inside, Italy adds, whispering, while closing the door behind them, "You... um, be careful, per favore..."

Nodding reassuringly, France takes off his coat and walks in.

The first thing that hit him was the strong smell of alcohol filling the dim room. The next thing he notices is a dark looking silhouette, slouched on a table where a few empty green bottles were scattered. Wanting to turn on the light to see better, his hand is stopped by Italy's, who keeps whispering.

"Don't. Bright lights make his headache worse."

"You're sure it's alright for me to stay ?" France whispers back.

"Sì ! Prussia took all of the home's guns and beer in his car... and he left to drive it away from here for now."

"Hm..."

"So I'm glad you're here, I didn't want to be alone." Italy finishes, with a faint smile.

Answering with the same smile, France quietly walks to the silhouette, pulling out a chair to sit down. Unsure what to say, France takes a moment to think. Germany's arm was covering his face, hid against the desk, as his other arm was still holding on to a half empty bottle. Not having seen Germany in that state for a long time, France takes in a deep breath and goes for it, quietly.

"Bonjour, Germany... I... came to check on you... I am sincerely sorry..."

Seeing Germany had no reaction, France glances at Italy, who shrugged back at him. Walking over to the man, Italy gently runs his fingers through his hair, saying in a soft voice as he tries to remove the bottle from his hand, "If you want to be left alone it's alright, Germany. Just, say something, please...".

Waiting for his answer, Italy feels his hand being grasped tightly by Germany's after he released his bottle. A few seconds of silence later, his slumped body stretches out against his chair, letting out a heavy groan. As his other hand slicks his hair back on his head, away from his face, dusted in red from the alcohol, Germany answers while turning away from France, "I'm sorry you have to see me like this. But I appreciate your concern."

Not knowing what to say, France waits before asking him more. Leaving both of them to wash his face, Germany comes back to sit at his previous spot, crossing his arms on the table to lean against them.

"How do you feel, mon cher ?"

"No better. But I'm thankful to mein Bruder and Italy for being with me, they help me a lot."

Lightly smiling at Italy, who sat beside him, Germany turns back with a serious face to France, waiting for the latter to ask any questions.

"May I ask what exactly happened ?"

Taking in a long, deep breath, Germany starts his story. "The fight was going well. England's army was strong, but not as much as ours. Our weapons' technology was roughly the same, but we were using it more efficiently. Our soldiers are prepared with a strict training. The battlefront getting closer to the capital, we have to keep up and not give up." Taking a short break, he continues, as both France and Italy were listening with attention, "A few more hours and the fight would be over, but..." Leaning his forehead against his hand, he stops for another moment, and resumes, "A... strange turn of events occured... I could see my soldiers falling on their knees, one after another, in the middle of the battlefield... weapons falling out of their arms... loud, agonizing screams... dying... corpses...". Putting up his other hand to support his head, the man lets out a heavy sigh after finishing.

His mouth half opened, Italy slowly places his hands on his shoulder. "That's horrible !"

"Hm..." he replies. "I want to surrender."

"Eh ??"

"Quoi ??"

Now shaking the shoulder he was holding, Italy yells, "You can't surrender !! Remember what you keep telling me ! Don't give up now !!"

While France didn't know what to say, Germany answers in a serious tone, "I don't want to lose more soldiers."

Tears running down his cheeks, Italy wraps his arms around Germany, his eyes hidden in his blond hair, "No, don't !! How will we do to be together ??"

"If France can do it, why not you ?"

"You promised you would stay with me !!"

Germany stays silent. France takes the chance to ask a question, "Do you know what happened to them ?"

"Nein... nor scientists or doctors can explain it. They have a theory that the enemy released a yet unknown gas, that had this effect on the soldiers, but they didn't detect anything in their lungs..."

"Je vois..."

Now loudly crying against his head, Italy kept begging Germany to not surrender. No one has surrendered yet to England. Or, should we say, to his boss.