It was the morning of November 4th, the day Armin was scheduled to go into surgery to fix his skull. Eren was there, along with Jarnach, Connie, and Floch, the only ones from their platoon who were still alive and not severely wounded. They sat in a stark room, looking at magazines as they awaited news.

Finally, Connie gave up pretending to read an article about Goebbels and set down his magazine. "Have any of you seen Dieter? The man's half-crazy. That battle messed him up."

Absently, Eren said, "He should sniff a lemon. It helps."

They all looked over in surprise.

"A lemon?" asked Floch.

Eren nodded. "It keeps away battle-madness."

Jarnach muttered, "I should try that."

Connie frowned and looked down at the magazine again. "Do all of you get nightmares?"

They all silently nodded.

"Good. I mean," he muttered awkwardly, "I'm glad I'm not the only one."

Things fell silent again, until finally a doctor opened the door. They all tossed down the unread magazines and looked with equal parts eagerness and worry.

"The surgery was a success," he assured them, which brought sighs of relief to them all. "Stabsgefreiter Arlelt is awake, and he seems to be doing well. If he remains stable, then in five days, he will be sent to the hospital in Saint-Avold for long-term care."

"Can we see him?" Connie shouted out.

"One at a time. Keep your voices down. He has quite a headache."

"I bet!" Floch muttered. "Did you really see his brain?"

The doctor chuckled. "Let's start with the lieutenant. Arlelt asked to see you."

Eren rose and followed the doctor through busy halls. He could see from all the soldiers around, some in wheelchairs, some on crutches, others with arm slings or their heads wrapped, the various battles all around Metz were really taking a toll on the military.

They entered a room, and Eren saw Armin trying to stand up with the help of a nurse. He looked up as Eren entered and immediately smiled.

"Eren!" He sat back down and turned to the nurse. "I'll hold it until after I speak with him. Thanks."

Eren looked worried. "Should you really be standing?"

The doctor huffed. "No, he shouldn't. I told him not to."

"I want to get better," Armin said stubbornly. "My head is back in order, so I want to get back to duty as soon as possible."

The doctor stepped in. "And I told you, I completely forbid it. Just healing your skull will take many weeks as the bone fuses, and your neurological trauma may take you years of therapy to fully recover. The fact that you can almost stand up is, quite frankly, beyond expectations for this sort of trauma."

Eren walked up to Armin and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've served your country, and you saved my life. Now it's time for the country to serve you. Don't worry about fighting anymore. Heal yourself. I want you to be able to walk to the beer hall with me when this war is over."

Armin looked frustrated that he could not continue.

Eren looked back to the older man. "Doctor, may we have a moment?"

Both the doctor and nurse left the room. Eren sat on the hospital bed beside his friend.

"I hate this," Armin muttered. "I can't even use the toilet without assistance to walk."

"Hey, at least that huge brain of yours managed to fit back in your skull. Connie and I were taking bets that it wouldn't fit; freed from its confines, it'd swell up and you'd truly become a genius, the next Goethe." The teasing did not amuse Armin. "I'll see if I can have you on only a temporary medical leave. Once you've recovered, you can return to battle."

Armin looked less thrilled. "By then, I won't be in your platoon. If I can't fight with you, I'd rather just sit out the rest of the war."

Eren furrowed his brow. "Are you sure? I mean, I'd prefer knowing you're safe..."

"By my estimations, the war will be over in less than a year. Probably even before next summer."

"So soon?" Eren pursed his lips and softly asked, "Do you predict Germany will win?"

Armin sighed, slumped, and slowly shook his bandaged head. "I've never predicted victory for Germany. If we had stuck to Austria and Poland, we definitely could have won. Even just northern France, we could have held on. But attacking Russia doomed us."

Rage flashed in Eren's eyes. "We can still win!"

Armin flinched and held his head in pain at the loud shout.

"Sorry," Eren whispered. He took in a slow breath to calm his emotions. "If you thought we'd lose, why did you volunteer to fight?"

Armin laughed bitterly. "Because there's nothing else for me. It was either volunteer on my own terms, or wait to be drafted, and probably at the worst time. I don't have a family legacy like Thomas. I don't have a sweetheart like Franz. I'm not from former nobility like Ian Dietrich. My parents died when I was young; I live with my grandfather. There's nothing back home for me. At the very least, I could use my brain to try to keep a few Germans alive." He closed his eyes in defeat. "Yet even that failed. If I can't do that much, why fight at all?"

Eren placed a friendly hand on Armin's shoulder. He felt so thin! "Your strategies saved lives. Without you, none of us would have escaped Anzio, and even fewer would have survived last week. Without you, I would have been burned alive, and then buried under rubble. You saved me, and you saved many others. 'Whoever rescues a single life earns as much merit as though he had rescued the entire world.'"

Armin looked up in interest. "A quote? Goethe?"

He shook his head, leaned in, and whispered, "From a wise little Jew."

Armin instantly perked up. "Did you find him? Is he okay?"

Eren glanced around to make sure they truly were alone. "He's alive. We ... had a fight. About ideologies."

"Ah," Armin muttered. "I can see how that can be an issue."

"I don't know what to do," Eren admitted, sinking in regret. "I haven't seen him in days. I was so mad at him," he grumbled. "I called him a terrorist."

"Eren!" Armin scolded.

Eren explained in a low whisper, "Someone he knows shot someone I know. We both saw it before the Gestapo arrived. We got into an argument. They murdered the officer living right next door to me, he saw it—saw what they do, saw them for the brutal terrorists they are—and yet he went back to them, to help them kill more Germans."

Armin slowly shook his bandaged head. "You knew from the start it would be like this."

"No, I didn't!" Eren's brow furrowed. "I thought I'd get him out of Metz, and he wouldn't get wrapped up in all this. I failed, and now..."

Levi was Jewish. Of course he would gravitate toward the Resistance and Allies. What other choice did he have?

"Apologize," Armin told him. "If I can give you any last advice as my commanding officer, it's this: swallow your pride and apologize to him. It's either that, or push him completely out of your heart."

Eren ached at the very idea. "I can't do that."

"Then accept him how he is, even the parts you don't like." Armin squeezed Eren's wrist. "You need him right now. I heard about the mouse-shooting."

Eren groaned and rolled his eyes in embarrassment. Jean must have told him.

"Emotionally, you need him. I'm glad you two found one another again." Armin paused and glanced around the room. He bit his lip, but after a moment he firmed up his resolve. "Eren, I say this as your friend," he began in a cautious whisper. "Escape with Levi."

Eren looked insulted at the idea. "I can't do that. I have a duty..."

"To what? To your men? How many are left? To Germany? Who do you have waiting for you back home? Right now, you have him, and if your love means anything, then you have a duty to him. He needs you, and you need him, more than ever."

Eren looked torn. Months ago, he and Levi had the perfect opportunity to run away together, but Eren refused. Now, even Armin was asking him to run away with Levi.

"At least consider it." The doorknob turned, and Armin jolted. In a rush, he concluded, "You'll make up with your darling wife in no time."

Eren had to laugh. His darling wife. Oh, Levi would level some epic threats if he heard Armin call him that. "Thanks for the advice. I'll go now. The other men want to talk to you."

The nurse came up to Armin. "Shall we try to walk to the toilet again?"

"Maybe just the bed pan." He gave a glance over to Eren. "I won't push myself if it'll only injure me worse."

Eren gave him a supportive nod. "Make sure you heal that brain of yours, Armin. Germany will need it, especially after the war."

Eren left the room and walked back to the waiting room. The soldiers inside jolted when he entered.

"He's doing well," Eren told them. "He needs to use the toilet. Give him five minutes, then go back to room 224."

Floch asked, "Do you need a ride back?"

"I'd rather walk."

Eren left and continued down the sterile halls. He was near the exit when he heard feet racing toward him. Worried that it was a medical emergency, Eren moved to the side, only to see a small, young nurse race right up to him.

"Excuse me, Herr Oberleutnant," she said in a quiet voice. "Do you know Armin Arlelt?"

"Yes, he's in my platoon."

She looked around nervously and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Do you also know Hauptmann Kitz Woermann?"

Eren's eyebrow raised. "Yes. He's in charge of our company."

The nurse bit her lip and looked around again, obviously agitated. "I need to speak with you. Maybe I shouldn't say anything," she muttered, doubting herself already.

Eren saw the fear in her face. "Is there a place we can talk in private?"

She nodded and waved him to follow. Eren walked behind her as the nurse led him to what he guessed was an operating room. There was still blood splattered on the floor from a recent surgery.

The nurse took a deep breath to calm herself, but she still only whispered. "It's about Hauptmann Woermann. I was one of the nurses who attended to him when he first arrived. Do you know about his injury?"

"I was with him at the time. The Americans shelled us. The room we were in took a direct hit." He remembered how he had been talking with Gunther, and then suddenly the man was gone in a spray of blood as he took the full brunt of the Doorknocker's shell. "Hauptmann Woermann had a gash to his leg. It didn't seem bad at first, but he was sent back to the military hospital due to his rank. I guess it was a lot worse than it looked."

"No," she whispered. "That's the thing. His wound was superficial. It's completely healed now. Not only that, it..." She looked around in terror and lowered her voice more. "...it appeared to be self-inflicted."

Eren's brow tightened. "Are you saying he gave himself that wound?"

"I'm not accusing him of anything," she insisted. "I've seen wounds, sir. Thousands. I've seen men shoot and stab themselves just to get out of battle. This has every appearance of being a self-inflicted wound, and he's definitely exaggerating things."

"He still uses a cane."

"He doesn't need it. He demanded we give him a cane. I've seen him walk just fine, but as soon as he leaves the exam room, he limps again. He's threatened nearly everyone who attends to him, saying he'll have us arrested if we talk about him." She looked around, fearing that the Gestapo would jump out at any moment. "When the doctor said he was going to release him back into active duty, Hauptmann Woermann pulled out his gun. He forced it into the doctor's mouth." Tears came to her eyes as the terrifying scene replayed in her mind. "He threatened to shoot all of us if we didn't write that he must be sent home with the rest of the wounded."

Eren grumbled, "Coward!"

It dawned on Eren: that attack had been the first time Kitz Woermann came close to a real battle since the war began. This was not standing on a hill a kilometer away and ordering a town to be shelled; this was seeing the horrors of war right in front of you, hearing the screams, smelling the smoke, and tasting the blood sprayed into a sticky mist in the air. Before Maizières-lès-Metz, there had been no combat badges on the captain's uniform. He had never been under fire.

Eren tried to think back to that precise moment. He had been stunned, his head jarred, his spirit broken as he realized Gunther was dead. However, as his mind replayed the ghastly moment in slow motion, he realized Woermann yelled in pain many moments after the shell hit the room. Eren had thought little of it at first. Sometimes, when the shock was huge, the sensation of pain could be delayed.

Had he truly gashed his own leg just so he would get out of the battle?

Because of that, he was not in Maizières-lès-Metz when the Americans overran it. He should have been in that town hall with the rest of the company.

He should have been there!

He abandoned his men!

Coward!

"Thank you for telling me."

She looked terrified. "Will I get in trouble?"

"No. I don't know your name, nor do I want to know. I will tell the Gestapo only that I suspect something and to look into it. That man does not deserve to get out of battle after all that his men have sacrificed! Even if he is injured, even if he does need a cane, he should stay and receive the same fate as the rest of us." He laid his hand on the nurse's shoulder. "Thank you for telling me. Your loyalty to Germany is commendable."

She bit her lip as her eyes darted back and forth, still obviously scared.

Eren gave her a reassuring smile. "I have no idea who you are," he repeated, making sure she knew that she would not get in trouble for speaking up. "Now, please make sure Armin gets good treatment. He got injured saving my life." Eren shook his head. "That is a true hero."

Then Eren turned out of the room and marched out of the hospital with a grim face. If this was true, if Kitz Woermann was faking his injury, Eren would make sure he was brought to justice.

There was one man he knew he could tell.

* * *

Eren hated the idea of simply walking into Gestapo headquarters. He had more than enough run-ins with these people. Still, this demanded immediate action, before Kitz Woermann made his escape.

He marched into the building and walked up to a desk. "I need to speak with Colt Grice."

Minutes later, he was brought to an office, and upon stepping in, he saw the young Kriminalassistent at a desk piled up with paperwork.

"Oberleutnant Jäger. I thought you already turned in a report on the Mi-homme Incident. Perhaps you're here with more illegal British tea?" he said with a friendly smile.

"I'm not so lucky." Eren took a seat in front of Colt. "It's about my captain, Kitz Woermann. He was injured, but I have reason to suspect he gave himself that injury, and it's not as bad as he's pretending. Now he's requesting to be sent back to Germany with the wounded. I've seen men lose fingers or have shrapnel permanently stuck in their bodies, and they still fight. A small scratch to the leg is not enough to render him an invalid."

Colt folded his hands together. "You're accusing your superior officer of cowardice and possibly treason. That's a serious accusation to make. Do you have proof?"

"Eyewitnesses. I've been told that he threatened multiple staff members at the hospital to declare him unfit for battle."

"Has he threatened you or anyone in your company?"

"I've not asked the members of my company. I can, if you want."

"No, leave that to me," said Colt. "It beats yet another report of maybe someone said something bad about Hitler while they were drunk. Is there anything more you can add?"

"I spoke with a nurse less than an hour ago. She wished to remain anonymous, but she said Hauptmann Woermann threatened a doctor at gunpoint to write up a medical transfer. It shouldn't be hard to find which doctors have attended to him. Also..." His brow tightened. "I keep thinking back to that moment. The shell hit, many were injured, dead, there were screams of pain, but ... I'm almost positive now ... Woermann began to scream much later. If he gave himself that wound, it'd make sense that it took him a moment to let panic build in his heart, look around, find a suitable piece of debris, and then slice his leg with it."

"You're certain of this?"

"I'm only certain that his screams began long after the shell hit."

"Can you list all the people who were in that room?"

"I can, but most are dead. Oberleutnant Ian Dietrich was there. He took a bullet to the arm a week later, so he wasn't in the town when it fell. He's recovered enough to be back with his troops, despite still being in an arm sling."

Colt scoffed. "A man takes a bullet and gets right back into battle, but another gets a scratch on his leg and wants to go home?" He pulled out sheet of paper. "If you have a moment, I want to make an official investigation as soon as possible. Tell me everything you can, down to the smallest detail that you recall from the incident."

Eren sat there and told Colt everything, from where people were standing in the room when the shell hit, to repeating what the nurse told him, although he had to insist many times, he did not know the name of the young nurse. Colt wrote down everything diligently, read it back to Eren, and added anything extra.

Colt scowled as he looked over the notes and slowly shook his head. "If this accusation is true, then an appropriate punishment would be to send Woermann to go fight on the front lines, and not with you and your platoon. He should not be allowed an easy way out. Maybe a few weeks in Feste Kronprinz will toughen him up." He shrugged off his disgust. "Nothing is certain without an investigation. I will look into this matter right away, and I will halt his transfer out of the city. He will stay in Metz until the investigation is complete."

"I'm glad to hear that, Herr Kriminalassistent."

"In the meantime, I recommend that you put in for a transfer to a new company. From what you told me about the company being obliterated, such a request is probably unnecessary, but I'm sure you do not want to remain under that man's command."

"Definitely not," Eren muttered. If Captain Woermann hated him before, he would really despise Eren if he found out he requested this investigation.

"Thank you for coming to the Gestapo with this matter." Colt grinned at the prospect of a true investigation into treason. "This is why I became a police inspector, not chasing down—" His words cut off sharply, but Eren wondered if he meant chasing rumors of Jews in the city. Surely, that got tedious, especially for someone who did not hate Jews. Instead, Colt shot his arm out. "Heil Hitler."

Eren saluted back to him, got up, and left. He felt a weight off his shoulders. Justice would be served. He could continue with this battle free from that burden.

Eren knew what he had to do next.

Armin was right. He needed to find Levi and apologize.

* * *

Eren left Gestapo headquarters, opened up his umbrella, and headed through the icy rain to the wine shop. Along the way, he tried to work through what he could say.

Sorry I called you a terrorist, although you're with the French Resistance so you technically are one...

Obviously he couldn't say that!

He still was not sure how to properly apologize when he came up to the wine shop and saw the windows were boarded up. Eren paused and peeked in. The shelves of bottles were empty and the space inside was dark.

Utter terror struck him. Had they already been caught by the Gestapo?

Eren gritted his teeth. Why had he waited so long? What if the last words he said to Levi were to call him a terrorist?

No! Things couldn't end like that!

He heard the swishing sound of a broom and looked across the street. The old bookstore owner was sweeping the wet sidewalk, as if anyone was left to come to his shop and buy novels. He seemed to not even realize that there were no more fallen leaves, and what he was sweeping was nothing more than wet pavement.

Eren ran across the street. "Hey! You! What happened to the wine shop?"

The elderly man, who had looked so spritely the last time Eren saw him, now appeared older, hunched, and drained of the will to live. "Gone. All gone. They took everything."

"Gone?" Eren shouted in terror. "Were they arrested?"

"Arrested, dead," the old man muttered.

Eren felt tears gather in his eyes. "No..."

"They took them. My dear grandchildren. Arrested and dead. They killed my sweet Nicolet. I had to bury my grandson. Oh, he was such a good child, always cooking me meals! He grew up to look just like my mother, with that curly blond hair. Now he's gone to meet her in Heaven. And ma petite girafe. They took her away."

Eren realized he was talking about Nicolo and Yelena. "What about the wine shop? Old man, do you hear me?" he yelled as the man kept mindlessly sweeping. "Were the Gestapo here?"

"No. No, not here."

Eren instantly sank. Thank God! "Where did the others go? Your granddaughter's friends, did they leave?"

"Some. They're still around at times. That nice fellow bought many of my books. Such a sweet boy, although it sounds like he's from Paris."

"From Paris?" Eren caught the words right away. "Black hair, short, squinty eyes?"

"Yes, that's the one. Do you know him? He left a hundred francs on the counter and a note that told me to leave town. I wanted to give the money back to him. I'm not leaving Metz. I've nowhere to go, especially now. They took my little grandchildren. I've lived too long, if I've seen the day when even they die before me."

Eren frowned at the grief in his frail voice. He whispered solemnly, "I'm sorry."

Yelena might have been with the French Resistance, but she was still someone's daughter, and this man's granddaughter. Similarly, Levi might be with the French Resistance, but he was still Eren's boyfriend.

He quietly asked, "Do you know where they went?"

"To Heaven, I hope."

"I mean..." He felt ashamed questioning this poor man when he was obviously distraught. "Yelena's ... friends: do you know where they are now? I ... I can give the money back to the small man. He's my friend."

He looked up in surprise. "Are you friends with my little Yelena?"

"Well, we've chatted," he muttered, thinking back to how she once threatened him. "I'm a friend of a friend of hers."

"Oh," he said, looking disappointed. "Monsieur Soldier, do you know where they've taken her? I know she's outspoken, especially for a woman. She was always getting into trouble for dressing like a man and talking about politics, but she loves France so much. All she ever wanted was for France to love her back just the way she is. God made her special, but no one else could see it. My foolish son couldn't simply love his daughter the way she is. The whole world is like that: no room for a bold, outspoken woman. So they finally took her away. Where would they take her, Monsieur Soldier? Do you know? I just want to tell her I love her one last time."

Eren felt guilty, having spent the past few days hating the Resistance, only to feel so much pity for this man's loss.

Did he dare tell this man that Yelena was a prisoner of the Gestapo? Colt had been so amiable with him earlier, but how would Magath act? Would he interrogate this poor old man? Maybe even torture him?

This man knew that the French Resistance had been hiding in the wine shop, and now he also knew that Eren was snooping around looking for Levi. Would he tell the Gestapo? Could he inadvertently put both Levi and Eren in danger?

"I don't know where your granddaughter is right now," Eren said cautiously. "If I see her, I'll let you know."

Finally, the man smiled, and color returned to his face. "Oh, thank you, Monsieur Soldier. God bless you!"

Eren frowned, his heart stinging as he knew he was only giving this man false hope. Still, at least it was something to keep him going. "What about her friends? You said they're still around at times."

"They boarded up days ago. I see trucks come and go. It looks like they're just taking away wine barrels, but I recognized some of Yelena's friends."

"They're moving to a new location," Eren realized. That was smart, now that this place was compromised. "Do you know where the trucks are going?"

"I asked. They wouldn't tell me. All the better, I guess."

Of course, Levi would not tell anyone where they were moving to. "If ... If you see the small man again, can you tell him I'm looking for him. Tell him ... I need to apologize."

"Of course, Monsieur Soldier. Did you fight with your friend?"

"I yelled at him," Eren muttered. "I said some terrible things."

"Take some advice from an old man: never let your angry words be the last thing someone hears. You never know when will be the next time you see them, so if you get angry and fight, apologize swiftly. It doesn't matter if you believe you're right, apologize anyway. With friends and with lovers, this rule applies. Don't go to bed angry with your wife, because she may not wake up in the morning, and the last words you'll share with the one you love are words of hate that echo painfully throughout your life. Don't leave a friend or family member in anger, because they could die before the next time you meet, and then you will carry the burden of guilt your whole life. An apology costs nothing but your pride, and it can save you from so much grief."

Eren looked contrite. This bookstore owner really had a way with words. "Did you read that in a book?"

"Monsieur Soldier, I read that from the pages of my own life. I can never take back the hurtful words I said to my brother Charles. That will be a regret I take to my grave. A life truly blessed is a life with no regrets."

A smile played on Eren's tense lips. "A friend once told me that."

"Your friend is wise ... or he's French," the man added with a soft chuckle.

"He's both," Eren said proudly. "I wish you luck, sir, and I'm sorry for your loss."

"Oh, I'll see my sweet Nicolet in Heaven, along with my parents and my brother Charles. Although, I still think Charles is rotting in Hell." He laughed, but he also looked saddened by that lingering disappointment. "I'll hold onto the hope that Yelena returns. I'll live for that day, God willing."

Eren turned away so the man would not see the grimace on his face. As a political prisoner, there was little chance that Yelena would ever return.

"Monsieur Soldier," the old man called out. "I hope you find your friend."

Eren turned back around. "I will. God doesn't keep soulmates apart forever."

"Soulmate? He must be a special friend."

Eren smiled to himself. "Yeah."

"Then I truly do wish the best for you, monsieur."

Eren strode off, now smiling to himself. Levi was still in the city, hiding away somewhere. He just had to wait until God brought the two of them back together.

# # #

# #

#

"The next Goethe" – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. Writer, poet, artist, scientist, botanist, statesman, religious critic, theater director, philosopher ... seriously, this man did it all.

Unlike normal geniuses like Einstein or Mozart who were prodigies in a single field, Goethe was a polymath: a genius in multiple fields. He published works about optics, prisms, color theory, anatomy, and morphology. He wrote about evolution decades before Darwin. He had the largest private collection of minerals in all of Europe. Goethite (an iron oxide) was named in his honor. He wrote many novels, plays, and his poems served as a model for an entire movement in German poetry, Innerlichkeit ("introversion"). He wrote scenes with passion and seduction back in a time when such things could get a person imprisoned for obscenity.

Goethe was called "the great heathen" because he challenged the Protestant and Catholic churches, pointed out hypocrisies between the Jesus of the Bible and the teachings of modern churches, and while he did not see himself as anti-Christian, he said he was "most decidedly non-Christian." Although married, his sexuality was ambiguous. He once said, "I like boys a lot, but the girls are even nicer." (Maybe bi-curious?)

He was the genius admired by geniuses, a man who inspired artists, musicians, scientists, political theorists, philosophers, and psychologists. Carl Jung, Nietzsche, Kierkegaard, and Schopenhauer were all in awe of him. His essays on politics were quoted by Nobel Prize winning author Thomas Mann. He met Mozart when the piano prodigy was only 7, got to hear Mendelssohn at only age 12, and Beethoven was a total Goethe fanboy.

He is said to be "the last man to know all the knowledge in the world." The fact that he lived in Weimar was why that city was chosen for the national assembly after World War I, which resulted in the Weimar Republic.

The sad thing is, here in America, I had never heard of Goethe until college, and then only because we read some of his works in a Literature class.

#

Here is a cool story about Goethe that involves fanfics and cosplay!

Goethe channeled his own heartbreak and suicidal thoughts into the 1787 novel Die Leiden des jungen Werthers ("The Sorrows of Young Werther") where—spoilers—the main character kills himself out of grief for an unrequited love.

This caused an uproar in European society, both good and bad. It was a raging hit among youths. People cosplayed as the characters. There was Werther merch: posters, porcelain figurines, even perfume inspired by the book. Napoleon Bonaparte used to write Werther fanfiction. In her novel Frankenstein, Mary Shelley wrote that Frankenstein's Monster reads The Sorrows of Young Werther and thinks his own situation of loneliness and rejection was similar to the main character.

Others hated the sad ending and wrote their own happier ones where Werther survives and gets the girl, a lot like people on Tumblr hating the ending of an anime so they create their own alternative ending.

Sadly, the book led to some of the first cases of copycat suicide, with young men across Europe buying the same pistols, dressing in the same outfit, and shooting themselves while reading the book.

Then there was THE CHURCH. Dun-dun-duuuuun!

Both Catholic and Protestant Churches banned the book and forbade wearing Werther cosplay outfits in major cities, because how dare you show a tiny bit of sympathy for people suffering from mental health when the Church has made it perfectly clear that people who commit suicide are horrible, selfish, the worst of all sinners, worse than even murderers and child rapists, and they deserve the lowest pits of Hell!

At the time, the Church did not merely show no sympathy; they targeted the surviving family members of a person who committed suicide and purposely put them under intense mental duress. Priests and pastors alike would badger them, repeating over and over for years on end that their loved one was suffering in Hell, ignoring all the scriptures that God is compassionate toward people who suffer from extreme mental anguish (Psalms 103:13-14) and therefore suicide due to mental illness CANNOT be a sin.

As a side note: while some Protestants still follow this belief, Catholics do not after Pope John Paul II's 1992 Catechism of the Catholic Church. - "Grave psychological disturbances, anguish, or grave fear of hardship, suffering, or torture can diminish the responsibility of the one committing suicide."

Because The Sorrows of Young Werther shook up readers and made them reject the animosity the Church had toward depression and suicide, of course the Church tried to suppress the book.

Always read the books they want to ban.

The Sorrows of Young Werther is part of Project Gutenberg and available free online. - https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2527