**A/N: I do not own Hetalia or any of it's characters. This story contains mentions of character death. This story came to me one day after I watched RENT for the millionth time. Please enjoy and Review!**

The pen scratched words across the paper. The ink marring its surface forever. Words spilling from the ink without thought. The dim light of the study making the man with the pen glow in the darkness. An organised desk which made the tattered, no not tattered, well-loved leather bound pages of the diary look very much out of place. A faint scrawl of "Awesome people only" etched into the front cover.

Dear Diary.

It's been a while,

Since the last entry many things have happened. Some good, some not so good and some… well we will get to that. It started off as a normal day, nothing out of the ordinary. I was sat doing my work, you were there, annoying as always. You were bugging me for something sweet, I bit back and told you to get it yourself, you were only six feet away from the kitchen, and there was no excuse for you not to get up. Now I think back on that, I should have got it for you. You were having a good day you said, the best you felt all year? Then why did it happen? You got up, you went into the kitchen... I went back to my work. It was only once I sat back and enjoyed the quiet that I realised… it was too quiet. Taking myself into the kitchen I found you, on the floor collapsed. My heart jumped in to my mouth. You groaned as I picked you up, asking to be put down.

A few days later, your appointment. The Doctors explaining how your immune system was shutting down the infections that your body are carrying are too strong for it to fight. The doctors are the ones to blame for this condition, When you were younger you fell out of a tree and impaled your leg on some debris at the ground, you lost a lot of blood and you had a transfusion, this was before it was known, before they had the sense to check. You were diagnosed on the 15th of May 1986; you never told me why you went for screening. I'm assuming you were worried about something with your "awesome five metres", It's not like you didn't have plenty of offers. But you became another statistic, another victim of AIDS. I wasn't even there for you. I couldn't. I didn't qualify for a day pass through the wall. I spent many years waiting for you Bruder, the day I saw your face as they tore it down. The joy, the utter joy upon our faces. October 3rd 1990. I will never forget that day. It was the day you told me "Bruder. I have something to tell you. Please don't be frightened. I have AIDS" You have more blood tests, your arms once pale then a patchwork of pin prick bruises. I shot glares at the people who saw and muttered "Junkie" under their breath as we left.

I woke up to the smell of bacon on my day off, very confused I might add. I go to check on you, yet I find you at the stove, dancing about in your underwear cooking bacon and eggs. So strange, just days before you couldn't lift yourself off the couch yet that day it seemed as though nothing had ever affected you. You went out, I found out later you visited friends and drank them out of house and home. I hope that you didn't get yourself into too much trouble... though why I even bother worrying about that is beyond me. The next day was more of the same; I smiled to my self-thinking that I was getting you back. Things were getting better. I knew somewhere deep inside that it wasn't true, I just refused to believe it. You came to me and asked if we could do things together, we talked, we reminisced, we fought and we laughed. Many beers later, you fell asleep, and I took you to your bed.

The next night I had awoken with a chill. Something compelled me to check on you. Whatever that feeling was, I don't know, but you were there, shivering, cold sweats. I knew something was wrong. I crawled into your bed and held you to give you warmth. I called your doctor, with advice to take you in to the hospital for observation. I sat by your side for four days, for days of watching you, four days of people coming in and out, flowers, chocolates and gifts, some people knew you well, a few of your favourite things were stashed inside, a bottle of beer which you sluggishly managed to sniff out. Your pale skin turned grey and sallow, your white as snow hair damp from cold sweats, it was late, I was cradling you in my arms when the boyish grin failed, and the feverish light in your crimson eyes left. I could not speak, I could not cry, I sat there whispering to you how things would be better now. I stayed with you until they came. It was June 9th 2001. 15 years. 15 years of living with that disease.

Two days ago it was your funeral. A surprisingly happy affair, full of joy and memories. All of your friends came. I received condolences and tears. You were loved bruder. More than just by me. Though now you are interred, and I sit here writing this for you, I still can't cry. You would only laugh at me if I did, call me unawesome and jab me in the ribs. I would be furious and call you a dummkopf and smack you across the head. I laugh now at this. You never seemed to mind it. Or you just never listened.

Though this is the final entry in the story of your life Bruder, you will be remembered. Ich Liebe Dich Bruder. Until we meet again.

Ludwig Beilschmidt.

Ludwig closed the diary with a sigh. The final chapter has been scribed. Ludwig leant back in his chair and rubbed his face. "Gott." Ludwig started to feel the exhaustion of the last few weeks wash over him. He stretched out his large shoulders feeling the tendons and ligaments crack and pop and pushed the worn brown leather armchair away from the desk. His piercing blue eyes fell upon the bookcase of journals that was kept in perfect order here in his brother's study. The room was more of an extension of his bedroom set off dedicated to his writing and his journals. Ludwig pulled his large frame up from the chair, taking the journal and winding the leather cord to fasten it as he walked. Giving it one last look before reaching to place it in it's rightful place in the bookshelf of his brother's life. Just at that very moment a sheet of ivory caught his eye as it fell, his first thoughts being that he had somehow damaged the book, something he would not have forgiven himself for. Ludwig then noticed that the sheet of ivory was an envelope. He placed the book in it's final resting place before bending down to retrieve the Ivory envelope. Feeling the weight of it in his hands Ludwig turned it over, a surprised look came across his face once he saw a familiar scrawl on the opposite side, addressed to him. He hesitantly broke the seal to find a letter in the same scrawl dated three months before the funeral.

My Dearest Bruder,

If you are reading this then one of two things has happened… you have either invaded my privacy or I have journeyed beyond for a greater adventure. My bets are on the latter. And what an awesome adventure it will be.

I made arrangements for my affairs to be in order. You're probably stressed enough without having to do that, hell, when aren't you stressed!

You my little Bruder I am leaving you with time, time to take for yourself, to take a rest and do something that isn't paper work! All I ever wanted for you was to be happy Bruder, something that I know I didn't help with, through my persistent acts and through this horrid disease. I know how much the final few weeks would have taken a toll on you. And for making you unhappy Bruder I am truly sorry.

Though now I'm no longer here, I'd like to thank you for being there for me. For taking care of me in the desperate times. I had a lucky life, I had time with you, my family, my friends, more so than others with the disease. I couldn't have asked for more. This letter to you will be my last, you are awesome Bruder and I never told you enough. Last but never least; please smile when you think of me, my body's gone that's all.

For the final time,

Auf Wiedersehen,

Your loving and awesome Bruder,

Gilbert Beilschmidt.

Ludwig shook as he read the page there in his hand, the envelope still felt weighty. He looked inside and saw something that made his face drop, one of a matching pair of iron crosses lay in the packet, the partner sat on a silver chain around his own neck. Ludwig almost dropped the envelope at the very sight of it. His knees felt weak and they trembled. His surroundings suddenly brought the reality of things crashing down on him. Gilbert was not coming home again. His annoying laugh was not going to wake him up in the middle of the night. He wasn't going to be there when he needed advice, in his rare moments of weakness. But he was suffering no more. The last few days really did show Ludwig how evil a disease could be, letting a person's body betray them from deep within. Sitting back in the worn leather armchair Ludwig closed his eyes as salty streams fell. He would miss his brother, every last bit. But he was right, he should smile, but Gilbert was wrong, Ludwig was the lucky one. Lucky to have had such an awesome brother. Standing up and shutting off the light, Ludwig gave one last look into the room as he grasped the cold brass handle; with a smile he closed the door. Gilbert's story now ended, as a new chapter in his began.

**Thank you for getting this far! i hope you enjoyed it! **

Translations- German- English

Bruder- Brother

Ich Liebe Dich Bruder- I love you brother

Dummkopf- Idiot

Gott - God

Auf Wiedersehen- Goodbye