Switzerland's memories kept coming back. These were pleasant memories, but they were just of a person he no longer considered pleasant. He hated how his mind would drift off to how his childhood friend would shriek when he tripped in a little mud, how his childhood friend would complain about how dirty the mud was, how his childhood friend would get him to clean him up, and how they would later sit by the fireplace together.

"If you would pay attention to where you were walking you wouldn't be in this mess," he would say lecturing his friend after his friend finished shrieking.

"I was following you!" his childhood friend would exclaim. "You were the one that lead me into this filth."

He would then playfully smile at his friend. "If you were following me, then why am I not covered in filth?"

"You're already covered in filth," his friend would tell him. "Your clothes are just to cheap to tell."

"Guilty as charge," he would say laughing joining in on the joke. "Thanks, for showing me the best place to get inexpensive clothing. I'm glad you showed me the place you get all your cheap clothes from."

This would make his childhood friend mumble under his breath. "At least I wear clothes that are in style," he would state when he was done mumbling.

"We wear matching sweaters sometimes," he would tease.

"They're not matching," his friend would correct. "Mine's purple and your's is green."

He would smile and chuckle. "That's still matching."

"No that's not matching," his friend would protest. "I wouldn't wear matching clothes with you. It would give me a bad image."

"You mean it would give me a bad image."

"Whatever," his friend would say when he ran out of playful insults. "Help me out of this mud you lead me into."

He would playfully shrug his shoulders. "I don't really want to," he would tell his childhood friend. "You're pretty deep in that mud, and I don't want to get my clothes dirty."

They would tease each other back and forth, until Switzerland finally got bored of joking around and pulled his friend out of the mud. And once his childhood friend was out of the mud, Switzerland would just start teasing him again.

"I think you can create a new style with that," he would say after he finished helping his friend out of the mud.

His friend would frown. "Maybe with your citizens. My citizens have too much elegance to cover their clothes with mud."

"Your citizens get their style ideas from my citizens," he would joke.

"I think you have it backwards," his friend would state. "My citizens are completely original in their own way."

"Yeah, being covered in mud is certainly original."

"If you didn't lead me into that mud puddle, I wouldn't be filthy right now!" his friend would remind. "My misfortune is all your fault!"

"I don't think its misfortune," he would tease. "You actually look cute with your face all covered in mud like that."

His friend would then try to whip the mud off his face. But the mud on his hands would just add more mud to his face. "I look cuter without mud on my face."

He would chuckle. "No, you don't. When you have mud on your face you can't see how ugly it is."

"I'm not ugly," his friend would say as he continued to spread the mud around his face in an attempt to clean it.

"You have a mole."

"It's a beauty mark," his friend would correct. "And why don't you help me get all this mud off?"

"You don't want my filthiness getting you more filthy."

No matter how many times Switzerland playfully told his friend no, he would always end up taking him home with him to get cleaned up. He would tease his friend the whole walk to his home, but the best jokes always came when they got to the house.

"You're going to have to wait outside," he would say to his friend once they got to his house.

"Why?" his friend would ask.

"I don't want you tracking mud down my carpet," he would say laughing. "Do you have any idea how much cleaning supplies cost these days?"

"Then how am I supposed to get clean?" his friend would ask.

He would laugh. "You're going to stand under that window." He would point to the same window each time. "And I'm going to dump a bucket of water on you from the second story."

"That's insane!"

"No, that's affordable."

"You're not going to dump a bucket of water on me from the second story."

"Do you want to be clean?"

"Yes," his friend would say, "but I rather have a nice hot bath."

He would smile. "I like my bucket idea better."

"Well, I don't," his friend would protest. "I want a civilized hot bath. Not a uncivilized bucket of cold water falling on my head."

"Fine," he would say playfully surrendering, "you can have your hot bath, but only if you share it with me."

This is the part where Switzerland tries to end the memories. As much as he doesn't want to remember it, he did share his bath with his old friend. Even if it was cheaper for them to share a bath, and even if they were both little kids, and even if didn't do anything else but take a bath, it still was extremely embarrassing to remember.

Usually, Switzerland is successful in pulling out of remembering. Finding something to occupy his mind, or banging a bucket on his head, normally works. But, sometimes Switzerland doesn't pull out of remembering. Maybe the memory is just too strong to pull away from, or maybe he just wants the memory to flow.

"Your hair looks silly," he would say laughing at how the soap would make his friend's hair stand up.

His friend would then put his hand on his hair to mess it up. "Now your hair looks sillier," his friend would say when he finished messing up his hair.

He would grin. "Like this people could mistake us as brothers."

"Maybe your people. My people have a keen eye for detail."

"Yeah right," he would say laughing fixing his own hair, "if you had a keen eye for detail you wouldn't have walked right into that mud puddle."

"I was following you!"

"I didn't walk into a mud puddle," he would state grinning. "Your hair looks like devil horns. Let me fix it."

After the two finished bathing, they would sit in their bathrobes next to the fireplace together. There Switzerland and his friend would exchange stories, hopes, dreams, and fears with each other. And their bond of friendship would most certainly be polished to shine.

"Do you think we will always be friends?" he would ask as they sat by the fire.

This question would make his friend frown. "Why would you ask a question like that?"

He would sigh. "I'm just wondering. Do you think we will be best friends as adults?"

"What would destroy our friendship?"

"I don't know wars, secret alliances, unfair rulers, other countries. Just about anything could ruin a perfectly good friendship."

"Not ours."


"Because I promise you, Switzerland, no matter what happens in the future I'll always remain your best friend," his friend would always promise.

If Switzerland got this far in the memory, he would start to feel blue. It was hard to comprehend that he and that unpleasant person were once best friends like that. It was hard to believe that they both broke that promise they had between each other.

Sometimes Switzerland wondered if Austria had the same recurring memory as him.


This made me feel sad. I don't think that I got Switzerland's character right. I like to think that he didn't become really serious and trigger happy until after he became an adult. But, I'm afraid that my theory of young Switzerland being slightly not adult Switzerland is very off.