Hey everyone! This is a story I've been planning for a while. It will eventually be PruCan! Ich will dich verfolgen roughly translates to I will follow you. Three semesters of German is finally paying off.
I don't own Hetalia. I wish I did.
Arthur Kirkland was angry. Another loud crash sounded from the depths of his basement. No, now he was angry. Scratch that, he was livid. All because of the bloody Prussian now inhabiting his basement. He never knew how he got himself into these situations.
Well, he knew how, he just didn't quite know why he tended to do this to himself.
Gilbert Beilschmidt had been living with him for weeks now, and he had been driving Arthur crazy from the start.
The day Prussia ended was apparently the day Gilbert ceased to exist as a human personification of said nation. In fact, he wasn't really a human at all anymore. He was invisible and silent to everyone, able to walk through walls and float around, but also able to pick things up. He was a ghost.
A few days later, Arthur had been driving home, only to see the Prussian's things piled up outside of Germany's house. He felt bad for Ludwig; he could never imagine losing a brother. Then he had seen Gilbert next to his things. At first, Arthur was angry at such a cruel trick, but then he had seen the sad and confused look on Gilbert's face as he stood next to his stack of stuff. He looked lost.
With a sigh, inwardly cursing himself for getting into these situations, he had offered to help Gilbert get to wherever he needed to go.
It turned out that Arthur was the only one Gilbert had found who was able to hear and see him. Gilbert was ecstatic he had found someone who could still communicate with him. Arthur begrudgingly offered to let Gilbert occupy his basement until he found somewhere else to live.
Gilbert's excitement was short-lived, however, as he spent the rest of his time moping around Arthur's house, depressed that no one could see him, upset that his time had ended before he wanted it to. He continuously broke things in his clumsy, sad state of mind, therefore becoming the bane of the Englishman's existence.
And somehow, he could see Gilbert all the time, unlike his other friends. He wished Gilbert was as cute or nice as the flying mint bunny, and then he wouldn't mind having him around as much.
There was another crash from his basement. Arthur slammed his book shut, stalking over to his basement door. Gilbert Beilschmidt wasn't a ghost. He was more of a poltergeist.