Title: Irreversible
Author/Artist: blackwingsblueeyes
Words: 1, 277
Character(s)/Pairing(s): onesided Prussia (Gilbert)/Hungary (Elizaveta)
Rating: T
Warnings: Angst.
Summary: He couldn't remember ever feeling this much pain. His nation wasn't under attack, no more people were dying than what was usual. There was no civil war going on, so why did he feel like he was being eaten up from the inside.
Enjoy!
Irreversible
At the time, Prussia had felt totally justified and right with how he was reacting. He had warned her (multiple times) to not go through with this. He had even taken the time to explain how nothing good could come of this. She would just wind up hurt in the end. Alliances can be all too easily broken. But his argument fell on deaf ears.
In a moment of desperation, he had given her an ultimatum. Me or him? The one who's been your friend since forever or the man you hardly know? He wasn't being selfish, not at all. He was just trying to make her understand. He was protecting her. Couldn't she see it?
In the end, Hungary had chosen Austria.
She would never know how much that had stung. It was as if she had slapped him. Hell, he would rather she had. He would have gladly been beaten and whipped and kicked. He would have accepted anything, anything but this.
He couldn't remember ever feeling this much pain. His nation wasn't under attack, no more people were dying than what was usual. There was no civil war going on, so why did he feel like he was being eaten up from the inside.
There were other feelings too. He couldn't even put a name to some of them.
He was well acquainted with anger. He recognized this, at least. Prussia grasped onto it, allowing rage to swallow the other, more painful emotions. It built and grew inside him until all he could think about was how stupidstupidstupid he had been for ever letting himself become close to the girl in the first place. He couldn't dwell on anything else for days after the couple had announced their wedding.
He couldn't even begin to get it out of his mind for weeks.
So the morning Prussia heard a knock on his back door and looked out to find her on his doorstep, he was definitely not in a pleasant mood. Just glancing out at her through the glass in the door made his chest ache and his head spin with possible scenarios of why she was here. Maybe they'd called the wedding off.
He hated himself for hoping.
Hungary's bangs on the door became harsher as the minutes ticked by, but Prussia made no move to open it. He leaned back against the wood frame (not hiding, for the awesome nation of Prussia does not hide, dammit), sliding down to rest on the floor.
"Prussia!" Her voice was muffled as it traveled through the door. Prussia clenched his teeth at the sound of it. He had told her to never speak to him again. He had meant it (sort of, at the time) and had spoken firmly, with conviction.
So why couldn't she listen to him for once? Why did she have to come here, seek him out at his own home? Didn't she know what she was doing to him?
Couldn't she just realize that she was fucking hurting him and leave him alone?
"Prussia~! Open up right now! I know you're in there!" He could tell she was getting frustrated now, but the banging never let up. She wasn't going to leave until he let her in.
"Come on, Prussia! Open the damn door!" She was all out yelling now and if Prussia had been trying to ignore the sound of her voice (and the knives piercing his chest every time she so much as uttered a syllable), he couldn't anymore.
How could she be so sure he was home anyway? What if she had been making this ruckus (and maybe permanently even damaging his door) and he wasn't even there? She was so sure of herself and confident in her assumptions.
"Gilbert... I'm sorry about before."
Prussia went stock still. Her voice was still just as loud, but something had changed to it. It was... almost tender, that was the only word he could think to describe it and even that couldn't explain it correctly. Hope seeped back into his chest, oozing outward and warming him like he hadn't felt in weeks. The relief was immense, and he reveled in it.
"Gilbert... I want to talk to you. Please open the door."
Neither moved. Prussia's eyes darted to the door knob, but he couldn't open it. He wouldn't. Not for her, not anymore.
"Well... if you're listening, Gilbert..." Hungary started out a little awkwardly. "I was kind of hoping to ask a favor of you."
Prussia couldn't help but be stumped by this. What was she going on about? Like hell, he'd do her a favor.
"I want you to walk me down the aisle."
...
Looking back on it, Prussia wasn't sure what exactly happened after that. The agony in his chest was back with a renewed vigor, and he curled in on himself as he stood shakily to his feet.
He remembered opening the door. He wasn't sure how he looked right then, but Hungary stepped back, eyes wide and he could tell she was afraid. It was a rare occurrence, Hungary being frightened of anything, and she was most definitely never scared of him.
He would have smiled if at all he could.
He knew he had wanted to let her have it right then and there. He wanted to scream and kick and yell and throw a tantrum unrivaled by any bratty child. He wanted her to be afraid of him, and take him seriously for once.
He wanted to let her know exactly what she was doing to him.
But the words died on his lips the moment he looked into her emerald eyes, and he slammed the door in her face.
Then he ran, bolted, flew up the staircase. With trembling hands, he locked his bedroom door and collapsed on his bed. His breathing slowed and his pulse finally stopped racing as he looked out his bedroom window to see that Hungary had gone.
"I want you to walk me down the aisle."
He understood what she was asking perfectly. She wanted him to walk her down the aisle, like a father who gives his daughter away. She wanted him to hand her over, to let go of her.
And Prussia wanted to.
Oh god, he wanted these feelings gone, he didn't have the will to deal with them anymore. His heart couldn't handle them for any longer.
But there was no way in hell he was going to be involved in that ceremony. He wouldn't touch the damn thing with a ten foot pole. She would have to find someone else to fill his place.
There was nothing she could do to make him forgive her for this. It was too late, the damage was irreversible.
And if she ever came back, he wouldn't open his doors to her. Never again would he let her back in. She'd burned that bridge herself.
At least he was safe in his own home, in himself. And as long as he shielded himself, kept his guard up and prevented anyone from entering, it would stay that way.
Fin.
I'm not really happy with this one. I'm not really one for sad endings. But I'm posting it anyway.
And I'm looking for a beta. Or even just a reader who wants to point out all my mistakes, that would be great C: I'm not a very good editor, so any help would be much appreciated.
Review, please?
