Oneshots of Whatever (mainly Countryhumans) (Finished-ish)

97 - Necromancy Pt. 2

Germany dragged Third upstairs, locking him in his old room. Third stared at the room, memories flooding back. The way he and his sons would watch the stars while in this room. It brought tears to the German's eyes.

He sat at the desk and began writing, starting when he thought it was.

(In German)
September 5, 1945 (ish)
I was brought back to life. I don't know how or why, but I was. Germany still hates me, showing this by locking me in my old room. Memories cloud all my thoughts. Other countries were brought back. Soviet, Japanese Empire, and Fascist Italy. I don't think he remembers me. Others like "Aztec Empire" and "Native America" were also there. I don't know who they are. I recognize "Holy Roman Empire," but I never thought I'd actually see him.
Why is life so hard and complicated? I just want to go back when I would sleep with East and West in my arms. I want to go back to when Britain would come over and we would discuss the act we held up. I loved him too much, and that's what got me killed.

He looked in the drawers of his desk, trying to find his old letters from the Brit. He started to panic when he couldn't find them, desperately looking for the box.

"Looking for something?" The sly voice of Third's son came from the doorway. "I burnt the letters and the pictures."

Third froze. His body suddenly felt weak as he collapsed to the floor. He shook ever-so-slightly. He wanted to cry. All those memories were gone... up in flames.

"Out," Third ordered.

"You're not the one to be commanding me around," Germany said, putting his hand on his hip.

"OUT!" Third yelled, getting up from the floor. He chased the started and scared Germany down the hall. He jumped on him tackling him to the ground in the living room. He snatched his phone, unlocking it with Germany's fingerprint. He searched through the contacts, slightly confused on how it all worked.

British Weirdo

Third clicked the button that looked like a phone and it started ringing. He kicked Germany away, running to the his room and locking himself in there.

"Hello, Germany, what do you need?"

The comforting voice of the Brit calmed all of Third's worries and anxieties.

"It's not him," Third said. "Before you hang up, let me explain and talk. I haven't seen you in... it feels like days."

"Third..." Britain mumbled. "It hasn't been days. It's been decades."

Third stopped. "Dec... ades?"

"Yes," Britain said. "Seventy-five years."

Third let out a sob, "I thought it was only days! What happened while I was gone? Does everyone still hate me?"

"Here," Britain tried, "why don't I come over? I'll help you relax."

Third nodded, "Danke (Thank you)."

"Of course."

He ended the call and sat in the washroom, holding his legs tightly. He rocked rack and forth, mumbling about what would happen to him.

"Will I die? Again? Will Germany ever love me? Where is East? Where is Weimar?" He asked himself, sitting under his desk. He had pushed the chair away, creating himself a little burrow.

A gentle knock came from the door, "Third? Are you alright?"

Third sobbed shakily before rasping, "No..."

"May I come in?" Britain asked.

Third got up, his walking wobbly and uncoordinated. He opened the door, letting Britain in. He closer it and locked it behind the Brit, looking down.

Silence.

"I'm sorry I left you," Third said softly. Britain lead them to the bed, sitting them down.

He hugged Third to his chest, "Shh shh shh, it's okay... It's all okay." He rubbed his back, holding him close. "Everything is okay..." Britain soothed, leaning against the headboard. He gently placed Third between his legs on his side. Third held into Britain's jacket, tears wanting to fall. "It's okay to cry, love," Britain said, hoisting Third up closer to him.

Third bit his lip, holding back a flood of tears.

"I promise, I will not make fun of you or call you weak," Britain said, holding Third's hand. "I love you."

Third whimpered and that's when he started to sob. He clutched Britain's jacket, crying into the black fabric.

"I just want things to..." Third stopped. "Not back to normal... but..."

"I get it," Britain said, running his hand through Third's greasy, crimson hair. "Not back to normal, but back to when they didn't hate you." Third nodded, humming a yes. "I still love you, darling," Britain said softly. "That never changed."

Third smiled softly, "Really?"

"Really."

773