Ch 1: Clockwork

Rating: T for cursing

Disclaimer: The world would be in fear if I owned Hetalia.



It had become routine for Roderich. He couldn't remember exactly when it started, though he figured it couldn't have been long after the separation of Hungary and him. The Austrian dealt with that idiot Prussian's "daily insults" well...every day. It was like clockwork. Without fail. Always during his piano practice, Gilbert would storm in and bother him for whatever amount of time he deemed necessary. Then, the albino would glare at him and shout an insult before storming back out and slamming the door behind him. The nerve of him.

Roderich would usually just ignore him, continuing his practice, aside from the occasional "Yes, I know, Gilbert." or "You've said that one already." The insults started out simple and childish like "Four-eyes" and "Idiot". After a while, they turned to phrases like "Prissy aristocrat" and "Stupid pretty-boy". Lately, they have gotten a little harsher. The brunette was starting to have a bit of trouble with the things the other had been saying to him. They became more and more personal, delving into issues that Roderich didn't want mentioned again. He tried so hard to block out Gilbert's voice, trying to concentrate until he left. It used to be peaceful when Gilbert left. Nowadays, he would sit there at the piano for a couple minutes or so, collecting his thoughts then started playing some Chopin. It was his favourite. He wondered if Gilbert ever listened to him play.

Then it happened.

At first the day was normal. He was practicing a new piece when Gilbert stormed in and sat on the couch. As usual, Roderich ignored him. But then came the shouting.

"Damn it Roderich, will you stop it for once and pay attention to me?!?"

How could he pay attention when he was only greeted with insults? He used to acknowledge him, but he definitely didn't get anything out of it except from that annoying voice ringing in his ears.

"Creep, is this why Elizabeta left you? You probably think you're so high and mighty, you don't have to listen to what anyone else says. All you ever do is play music. You'll die alone someday!"

He played louder. But anyone would be a fool to think Gilbert would take that. He still ranted on, not as easily heard over the complicated piece. Good. Roderich didn't need to deal with that. But he was cut short when Gilbert nearly screamed.

"VERDAMMT, RODERICH." He stomped over and roughly grabbed the pianists wrist. "I said to stop playing that fucking piano! Listen to me!!" This was met with a strong slap in the face.

"Get out of my house." Roderich's voice was poison. Gilbert growled and started screaming whatever hurtful things he could come up with at the time, slamming the door behind him, nearly breaking the hinges. The Austrian didn't really hear the words spoken. All he heard was anger. He continued playing when nearly anyone else would break down in tears.


Gilbert didn't show up the next day. The events of the previous day made Roderich nervous. He sat down at the piano as usual, but he had a hard time playing. Whenever he started, he half expected Gilbert to burst in with his usual antics. But it never came. He figured he should be happy about this, being able to practice in peace without any interruptions. There should have been some sort of relief. This nervousness kept him from playing. He couldn't concentrate right, expecting Gilbert to rush through the door any minute, Roderich afraid of what he might say this time. Nothing. It was too quiet. He didn't like it. And he didn't know why he didn't like it, which caused him to be even more on edge. He didn't practice that day.


Today, he came back. Roderich had barely noticed him come in, nearly jumping when he heard the familiar footsteps. He closed his eyes for a moment, then started to play Kinderszenen by Schumann. As Gilbert sat there silently, graceful fingers moved across the keys flawlessly, the owner again wondering if the familiar guest was actually listening. He knew this piece well, playing perfectly well as he let his mind wander. He then shifted uncomfortably as he worried about why his current company was acting so peaceful. What was the Prussian thinking? His hand slipped and he hit a wrong note just as he was starting the 'Glückes Genung' movement. He tensed as Gilbert stood up and walked towards the door. He paused and looked into violet-blue eyes.

"I hate you." There was no anger in his tone. It was said calmly and quietly, but with an unnatural conviction in his voice. He walked out, gently closing the door behind him.

This is what struck Roderich.

He sat there for several minutes, nearly forgetting to breathe. He replayed the scene over and over again in his head. The hatred in those eyes wouldn't leave him. Those cold red eyes. This coldness all but contrasted with that pale face. That perfect porcelain face. Emotion welled up inside him, Roderich stood up and threw the books and stacks of music against the polished floor. He sat back down, elbows on the keys making a painful sound. He buried his head in his hands as tears fell on expensive ivory.






Lol hi! So I couldn't sleep the other night, and ended up thinking this up while I was trying to sleep. Then I wrote it up during my Geography class. I tried a bit harder on this one, hoping this'll be better then my other fic and hopefully more people will like it and review. I plan on continuing this, though I also think it'd be interesting to write this chapter from Gilbert's point of view as well. Anyways, reviews? Critiques? Complaints about me liking to make Roddy cry? (dont get me wrong, I love them both to pieces x3)

Translation of German:

Verdammt- Damn it

Glückes Genung- Happy Enough (title of the....4th? movement of Schumann's Kinderszenen piece. I thought it'd be a bit ironic)