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A gentle, elegant knock against the front door echoed throughout the house.
“C’mon Heidi, open up!”
“Go away.”
“We’re already late, cherie.” He replied, pulling back the sleeve of his navy blue suit to glance down at his watch. “It starts in an ho–”
“I’m not going, France.”
“Why not?” He asked, attempting to look through the peep-hole.
“None of your business."
“You sound upset, what's happened?”
“Can you just fuck off?”
“Heidi!” He scolded through the door. “Such language on today of all days?”
Switzerland pulled the blanket tighter around himself, the worn graphic design on Prussia’s shirt wrinkling as he brought his knees up to his chest. “Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away.” He mumbled to himself, pulling the blanket even tighter around his head.
“Heidi? Hello, Heidi?” France sighed, reaching into his pocket. “You better be decent because I’m coming in.”
Switzerland reached up to massage his sinuses, of course France out of all people somehow managed to get a copy of his highly protected house key. Normally he’d freak out over this breach of his safety and privacy, barely hesitating to pull out a gun on his longtime neighbour.
But right now, as France unlocked his front door and found him on the couch, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“Are you sick?” France asked, reaching over to press the back of his hand against Switzerland’s forehead, only for the other nation to swat him away.
“If it’ll get you to go away then I have the plague.” Switzerland replied, curling up even deeper into the couch.
“What happened to your face?” France questioned, once more reaching to rub his fingers beneath the small, scabbed over cuts littering Switzerland’s flushed skin.
“Get out!” Switzerland demanded once again, wrapping the blanket impossibly tighter around himself. “I’m not going.”
“You’ve been crying, Heidi, your eyes are red.”
“No they’re not– just– shut up! I’m not going to mass and that’s final.”
“Did you cut your bangs?”
“Leave me alone!” Switzerland shouted, reaching out to physically push France away from him. He felt the chilly air hit his scalp, France having grabbed onto his blanket as he fell to the ground, exposing Switzerland’s form.
“Mon dieu…” France muttered, looking up at Switzerland. “Did you cut it with a knife?”
“None of your business!" Switzerland shouted, curling up on himself.
“I could’ve cut it for you.” France spoke, reaching out to touch the jagged, blunt edges. “You’ve nicked your face and neck all over.”
“It’s my hair!”
France sighed, letting go of Switzerland’s hair as he stood up. “Let’s go, maybe it’ll make you feel better?”
“No!”
“You need to wear something other than that same green dress, it’s getting old.” France replied, making his way towards Switzerland’s bedroom.
“Shut–”
“Where are your dresses?” France asked, rummaging through his closet. “Did you sell them?”
“Can’t I just wear pants?”
“Mon coeur–”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Adelheid, this is the Vatican.”
“So?”
“Please, listen to your big brother–"
“I don’t have a brother."
France sighed for what felt like the hundredth time, reaching up to run his fingers through his dirty-blond hair.
“Do you have anything that would work?”
“...The one you got.”
“Hm?”
“For my birthday.”
“Ah yes, the blue dress right? I’m sure I saw the box for it somewhere.”
Switzerland finally stood up from the couch, walking over to the bedroom where France was pulling out a square, white box from the closet, the lid engraved with gold French writing. He placed the box down on the bed, opening it to reveal a simple, modest, periwinkle blue dress.
Not exactly his style, but something he thought Switzerland would love.
“Get out so I can change!” Switzerland ordered, lifting up the dress carefully from it’s box.
“Don’t take to long!” France called out as he shut the door behind him. “We have 10 minutes.”
The dress was pretty, gorgeous even, but Switzerland couldn’t stand how he looked in it. How it sinched slightly around the waist, how the ruffled puff sleeves made his shoulders look so small and dainty, the way the skirt draped over his curves.
It was only one service, he’d break the news to France one day, but seeing how France’s face lit up when Switzerland walked out in the dress he’d custom made just for her.
That day felt impossibly far.