Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia - Axis Powers.
A/N: This is supposedly 1,008 words (I somehow doubt it). This idea came out of left field, but I had fun writing this one. It was supposed to be more fluffy, probably, but it seemed more natural to keep it more gen-ish. This is my second go at Prussia/Hungary (a pairing that needs more love and more fics, seriously).
He had awoken ten minutes after falling asleep. The periodic ticking of the clock haunted him as he gripped his blanket and the faint pitter-patter of the rain would not serenade him to sleep. Not once in the past two weeks had he been able to sleep well; he'd only sleep for, at the longest, one hour, before waking up again, tired and rattled, but unsure of the cause, and it became worse with each passing day, each passing night, until he would only be unconscious for mere minutes before jolting awake. The silent confines of his house terrorized him, mocked by each tick of the clock and dreading each passing second; the sound of insanity bleeding through the walls. As the rain came to a halt, he rushed from his bed and smashed all the clocks in his house in an attempt to stop the madness, but the deafening silence was no less disturbing.
A house is not always a home.
"I'm going to be the strongest nation in the world!"
Young Hungary stared at the equally young Prussia. His white hair glistened like snow under the sun while his white cape, with the cross of the Order of the Teutonic Knights imprinted onit, fluttered behind him, proudly flapping like a flag in the wind. Prussia pointed his sword skyward, sharp and predicting of tales of glory to come while his eyes bled confidence.
Hungary sighed and kicked the albino boy behind his knees.
"Ow! What was that for?" Prussia barked.
"How are you going to do that?" Hungary mused. "You can't even beat me in a fight!"
Prussia sputtered. "Sh-Shut up! I'll make you grovel in awe of me one day!"
"Yeah, yeah, even though you can't even beat me in a foot race, let alone a fight," the brunette goaded, standing side-by-side with Prussia.
"Oh yeah?" Prussia challenged. "You're on!"
And at that, Hungary smirked. "Alright. First one to the river at the foot of the hill wins. How 'bout it?"
And on "go", they galloped over the field of green, the azure hanging above them.
He awoke slowly, Hungary's imposing figure looming over him. Barely awake, Prussia could still make out the crinkle in her brow and that upside down smile, meaning it was a frown in reality, hinting to him her displeasure.
Prussia rubbed his eyes groggily. "God, you're so damn loud. I'm try'na sleep here," he drawled. Hungary didn't move.
"Yes, I can see that, Prussia," her tone was affable but clearly irritated, "but most people sleep at their own houses." Her hair hung loosely over her shoulders, inches from his face. The dress she wore shared the same emerald hue of the lush fields they dashed through as children and he frowned, not wanting — needing — any more reminders of those days. It made his eyes flicker like a dying flame, and he replayed the dream he had seen in his sleep.
Or maybe it hadn't been a dream, but a memory.
"What time is it?" Prussia mumbled. The restlessness he had struggled against in his own house had soothed considerably.
"It's 1:00 PM."
He made a mental note that he had walked into the house at about nine in the morning, which meant he had slept for about four hours.
That was better than what he'd been getting for the past fourteen days.
"Please sleep at home," Hungary sighed, slightly vexed.
"Whatever. The awesome me does what he wants," Prussia scoffed, yanking her tresses and causing her to yelp. He released her from his grasp — like this wasn't the first time he had done so — and swung his feet off the arm of the sofa, muttering about how Austria had terrible choice in home decor as he made his way to the exit like it was a Sunday stroll.
Hungary seethed as she followed, brushing her hair with frightening repetition. "Honestly, why did you even bother coming over if all you were going to do was sleep? You can't just waltz in here and sleep just because Austria's not home right now."
Prussia reached for the door knob.
"And," her voice dropped a decibel, "you've got such terrible bags under your eyes..."
Again, his eyes flickered like melancholic embers. That only happened when he thought of the past; when he was reminded of it.
'God, stop already, damnit,' Prussia thought.
He wouldn't tell her that he he'd gone two weeks without the wonders of slumber. Two weeks. Had it been two weeks since she'd left for Habsburg? It didn't matter, though, because he wasn't going to tell her that he was verging on insomnia, if not already experiencing it. Prussia would never tell her. He was just like that, locking his weaknesses in a box and burying them into the deep recesses of his mind. Hungary could only begin to wonder what was wrong with him or where the problem started.
She would never know.
"You're such a nag, Hungary," he stated dryly, and he could feel the bags under his eyes deepening. He turned the door knob, not looking back at her even once. She rushed to speak, taking two steps forward.
"Is something wrong, Prussia? It seems like you're not getting enough sleep..."
"It's nothing." He dragged his sluggish feet out the door.
"I'm fine," he insisted.
The door clicked shut with finality.