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『there is no set update s...
》characters: Prussia/Gilbert Beilschmidt and Hungary/Elizabeta Héderváry | Hetalia!
》original fic
》06182017
》wherein not every little accident can be played off by the "playful nature of innocent children." suppose they were old enough, suppose summer doesn't last in the blissful eternity they wish it to, suppose some things stay with us in a permanence that may either be traumatizing or heartwarming.
inspired by this picture:
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{for those who can't view the picture,} "prussia stole hungary's first kiss. it was a complete accident, but she has yet to forgive him."
xx
They were teenagers then.
Elizabeta doesn't know how old they exactly were, for people had come and gone when it was her birthday, and she always spent the eve of it wondering if last year's guests would reoccur with their sweet smiles and hand-wrapped gifts. She worried, maybe, she had done something that upset them; alas, there are enough gifts that they have to be stacked upon one another on the long table, and enough well-wishes that she could write them down and put them in a jar.
Gilbert, on the other hand, cared little for the amount of heads one could count when they enter the celebration. The day was for him, and he'd spend it, and many birthdays after, devouring the cake until he was decorated in the icing, too. He'd stopped when he grew old enough that smearing light icing on your cheek was something people found repulsive. Recently, he's found some joy in sighing contentedly at the rush of cold beer, sometimes with Ludwig, when the German's shoulders weren't feeling as winded.
Elizabeta and Gilbert have known each other even before their becoming teenagers, through encounters that they couldn't predict, frequent enough that they could recognize the other just through whispered gossip when one of them passed marketplaces, or anywhere lax citizens could gather. Pointed swords too heavy for short fingers and dirty sweat.
Elizabeta doesn't remember the place, where the sun's position was in the sky, or how the events aligned themselves as the two found themselves in the position they were, but their lips made their contact, tasting like their last meal and they have all the anticipating seconds to look at each other, hostility forgotten, to feed their faces with red until they're so embarrassed they don't know what to say.
Elizabeta doesn't remember much from that time of an immaturity they believed were the apex of their intelligence, but she wants to remember more than the two seconds that their lips felt each other's like that. Maybe she can cherish it more if she knew more than what her face felt.
She didn't know if it was Gilbert's first kiss, but it was certainly hers. She doesn't remember Gilbert apologizing, or if he was embarrassed as she, but Elizabeta remembers swinging a leg at him and stomping away with dust hanging on the back of her clothes. She has nobody to tell it to, and even much later, if she remembers it by accident, her fingers tingle like she were in that vague setting again.
She doesn't see Gilbert for a while after that, and her strolls are peacefully unsettling.
xx
Many, many, many years later, when stop growing taller every time they celebrate their birthday, and they grow out of their childhood, Gilbert has no more fears when he kisses Elizabeta. As he does now, when she's not looking at him. It's quick, to the lips, the kind where she can't flutter her eyes shut and feel him with an intimacy they've only recently discovered. Early enough that kisses in public, in a marketplace that carries the scent of the sea, is still too extravagant for even the rarest of Gilbert's idiosyncrasies.
Gilbert parts their lips with a cheeky laugh, hopping back a few steps as if dodging a hit he knew Elizabeta no longer had the heart to throw. It seems Gilbert's bested her, for she's speechless and smiling angrily at her own shock.
She squints her eyes at Gilbert, who's already enough paces ahead that she can't hope to reach him in her dress, who's smiling triumphantly, like when they were kids- but, now, for all different reasons.
"Catch me," Gilbert winks, and he laughs while he takes two steps forward before he runs.
Elizabeta doesn't run after him, but she laughs alongside him. She catches him much later, when he's sleepy and dressed in socks without shoes. Elizabeta kisses him speechless, long enough that they both can't have just one.
