Our Little Secret. [NO MORE UPDATES SORRY]

Chapter 14.

The tall man paced around his office in a circular motion. The war was getting to him this time round. The curtains let in a little light that held host to the reflective gold clock on his desk.

The time was 10:59 am.

And something was wrong.

He continuously checked the time as he moved over to the window and looked outside.

The air thickened as if the place's temperature drastically shifted.

The man suddenly realised he wasn't alone.

"You do know that it's rude to not knock, right?"

He turned to see the intruder as he spoke. A defeated and sad tone present in his voice.

"It's rude to commit genocide as well but here we are Pruss,"

The man stopped turning after hearing the name the intruder used, immediately knowing who it was that had broke into his office.

"I haven't been that tiny nation since '71..." 'Prussia' paused before continuing, contemplating whether to act upon his knowledge or not, "and you should know that I do not care for the past Britain,"

Britain stepped out from the shadows with a tiny smirk on his face.

"I know I can't stop you from whatever you're planning to do here so just get it over with,"

'Prussia' held his arms out in a surrendering fashion. He knew his leaders had given up. He knew his people hated it. He was ready.

He was ready to die.

Britain moved forward towards 'Prussia' slowly. Everything had been leading up to this.

'Prussia' closed his eyes in preparation. He wished to not see his own demise, not matter how ready he was to meet it.

Nothing happened.

He felt a sudden weight on his chest and shoulder and opened one of his eyes.

Britain had buried his face into 'Prussia's shoulder and was hugging him as some sort of goodbye.

"Britain..?"

"Us countries are just meant to be representations of the people that live there but no one seems to understand how we are practically forced to follow our leaders, right?"

"Stop being cryptic please Britain,"

Britain moved backwards and pulled out a pistol. He stared down at it for a second before letting out a sad chuckle.

"What I mean is that it wasn't entirely your fault Pruss. You did fuck up for sure though,"

Britain held up the pistol against 'Prussia's forehead.

"I've accepted this as how I die,"

Britain looked over to the clock.

11:02 am.

Was he waiting for something?

Was he expecting this?

Nothing could've prepared either party for this.

The trigger was slowly pulled with a small amount of hesitation.

'Prussia' fell back into a chair, limp.

He took one last look at his murderer.

His friend.

He was waiting for this.

He was ready for it.

Prussia was ready for it.