Although most people didn't expect Roderich to be a troubled person, he often let his mind wander in directions he'd rather not go, especially when someone mentioned a certain nation one could say he had a history with. When this happened, he acted like nothing was wrong, like he was annoyed by him, as always. However, lately, he'd caught himself starting to worry at the mere thought of said person, which was ridiculous, even by his standards.
Gilbert was perfectly capable of taking care of himself; everyone knew that. When he'd been under the influence of Russia, as Ivan liked to call it, although everyone knew he'd been taken gruesomely against his will, Gilbert had reunited with his brother after a few terrible years, damaged, but alive. He wasn't defeated that easily and Roderich had known this for years.
But Gilbert had changed. He wasn't allowed to join world meetings anymore, as his land now belonged to other nations. Wherever he showed up, people told him to go away, because they were busy or, like Roderich, found him annoying. So after this went on for a while, Gilbert had stopped coming altogether. It had been weeks since Roderich had seen the man and this worried him more than he liked to admit.
This was one of the reasons why he was playing his piano in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. He couldn't quite concentrate on the music, his thoughts consisting of more important matters, like whether or not he should call Gilbert to ask how he was doing. He didn't even know why he felt like doing so, or why he was worried in the first place. Gilbert was always showing up at his place uninvited, calling him names, making a mess and, unfortunately, emptying his fridge. It was just... silent and... boring when he wasn't around. Yes, that was probably it.
He already had the phone in his hand and had dialed half of the number when he heard the sound of someone knocking, rather frantically to be exact. Glancing at the clock and wondering who had come to visit him at this ungodly hour, Roderich put the phone down and started walking towards the front door. Halfway there, the knocking sounded again, even louder this time.
''Coming, coming!''
He didn't even get the chance to get a look at his visitor, for the man tumbled right into him as soon as the door opened. A blur of white hair obscured his vision completely as he got knocked back by the man, who groaned as his shoulder hit the doormat.
''Shit,'' the man grumbled, taking a hold of the door post and hoisting himself up, brushing the hair out of his face, revealing a grimace. He looked absolutely terrible, from the bags under his eyes to the hollow expression on his face. He was wearing a sweater in the colors of the Italian flag, that, judging by the size of it, probably belonged to his brother, as he himself seemed to drown in it. Roderich, who tried to hide his surprise, steadied himself and let out a sigh.
''Good evening, Gilbert. Maybe you shouldn't lean against a door when you expect it to open.''
Gilbert, still holding on to the door post, groaned and nodded. Roderich motioned for him to proceed into the house so he could close the door, but when the Prussian made no move whatsoever, he grabbed him gently by his elbow and pulled him into the hall. Gilbert didn't protest and let himself be led to the living room, where he sat heavily on the couch, remaining silent.
Roderich honestly had no idea what to do with the man acting this out of character and decided to make tea for the both of them. When he returned from the kitchen with two steaming cups, he found Gilbert sitting perfectly still, exactly as he'd left him. He didn't know if he should be more surprised at the fact that Gilbert hadn't yet made a mess of his house, as usual, or that his suspicions about the man had been correct. Setting down the tray on the table between them, he settled in a chair across from the Prussian, who still hadn't moved.
''Gilbert, what...'' Roderich tried, and then faltered. What was he supposed to say in a situation like this? Should he ask if Gilbert was alright, when he obviously was not? Should he ask why, of all people, he had come to Roderich's house? Should he even ask anything at all? He didn't want to pry in someone else's life when he knew he wasn't welcome to do so.
But this was Gilbert, the guy who had practically made Roderich's house his home for most of the time and although the two nations acted like they hated each other, they were actually quite fond of one another. Besides, Gilbert hadn't come to Roderich's place to just sit on the couch and stare at his feet, right? Roderich decided to try again. ''Why haven't I seen you in weeks?''
Gilbert didn't look up, but continue to look at his shoes and when he spoke his voice wasn't as loud and obnoxious as usual, making it sound somewhat dimmed. ''I might've done something stupid.''
There was no emotion to be found in those words, but they sent a shiver down Roderich's spine nonetheless. Normally, he would've made an exclamation about how everything Gilbert did could be considered stupid, but he knew that he shouldn't joke around right now.
''And what's that?'' he asked quietly.
Gilbert sighed and looked up. ''I, er, sorta… wrecked your car.''
Roderich blinked.
''You- you wrecked my car? What do you mean 'you wrecked my car'?''
Gilbert seemed to cower under the words of the Austrian, who didn't have to raise his voice to make an impression, something he knew all too well. Roderich felt a sudden fury rising up in him.
''Gilbert, you're having me worried for weeks and after finally showing up here you tell me you have wrecked my car, as if that matters to me more than you do! I thought you'd tried to kill yourself or something!''
Both men froze. Roderich flushed, not quite knowing if he should be embarrassed about his words or not. Gilbert looked away, then turned back and started to say something, then closed his mouth again. He sighed and tried once more, finally speaking up.
''I–'' he began to say, but Roderich cut him off.
''I don't care about my car,'' he muttered, already regretting his outburst. ''How did you manage to do that, anyway? Last time I checked it was still parked on my driveway.''
It was a bad attempt at changing the subject and he knew it, but he was desperate to talk about anything but what he'd just said. At the same time he was genuinely curious. He barely used his own car, because he was used to being driven around, but he had always taken good care of the vehicle. Or rather, had let others take care of it.
Gilbert folded his arms and sagged a little further into the couch. ''Wanted to park my motorcycle behind it, but hit the brakes too late,'' he mumbled. He shrugged. ''Crashed head-first into it.''
He glanced up at Roderich from under his bangs, seemingly bracing himself for another outburst. When Roderich frowned, walked over to the couch and sat down next to him, he froze and stared at the man. ''What?''
''Are you alright?''
Whatever Gilbert had been expecting, it probably hadn't been this, because the surprise was noticeably visible on his face. Roderich was actually concerned about him and after his slip-up moments ago, he didn't care about keeping up his image anymore.
''I'm fine,'' Gilbert said, looking the other way.
Roderich observed the Prussian for a moment. He didn't seem to have any visible wounds and it didn't look like he was in any pain. His breathing was also normal, so-
''I said I'm fine.''
''I heard you, but that's also what you said when Elizabeta hit you with her frying pan and you were on the ground crying and clutching your head like the world depended on it.''
''I wasn't crying,'' Gilbert grumbled. Roderich didn't even bother to contradict him: they both knew better.
At a loss for what to do now, their tea forgotten and an awkward silence hanging in between them, Roderich sighed and stood up again. He had just started pacing the room to occupy himself, thinking about what to do next, when he heard Gilbert mumble something behind him.
''What's that?'' Roderich asked.
Gilbert glared at him. ''Seriously, you want me to say that again?'' He sagged, if possible, even further into the couch. ''I said I'm sorry.''
Well, that was a first. Gilbert apologizing? Roderich hadn't even dared to dream of that. It seemed like his brother had had a good influence on him after all.
Roderich cleared his throat, feeling slightly awkward. ''Thank you, but it's quite alright. I wasn't planning on using that car any time soon, anyway,'' Roderich said, glancing out of the dark window, but only seeing his own reflection, staring tiredly back at him. He started pacing again.
''Not just about the car…'' Gilbert continued. ''For… you know. Not coming, I guess. Or calling.''
Roderich stopped dead in his tracks and turned on his heels. He hesitated. ''Can you tell me why?'' he asked softly.
Gilbert ran his hand through his hair, making it look like he'd just stepped out of bed. Roderich felt the urge to put it back in place again, although he had to admit the look suited him quite well. ''I just… didn't see a reason why, I guess. Why would I come here when I'm not welcome? I'll just get kicked out again. Pretty much happening everywhere nowadays…''
Roderich didn't know what to say to this. His words were partially true, since he actually was getting kicked out by everyone all the time, but he was astonished at the thought that Gilbert would actually listen to the other countries. This was Gilbert, after all. The awesome Gilbert who wouldn't let anyone tell him otherwise. Besides, Roderich had told the Prussian many times to leave him alone, but those days were long gone. Gilbert had somehow always found a way into his house and Roderich hadn't bothered to kick him out again after so many times.
''Then why did you show up here tonight?'' Roderich asked, more out of curiosity than anything. Gilbert could have gone to his brother, or… anyone else really. Why had he chosen for Roderich?
Gilbert frowned and stood up, turning around so the Austrian couldn't see his face anymore.
''Y-You haven't kicked me out yet, have you?'' he said, facing the window, although the only thing to be seen outside was darkness. ''That's why.''
''Well, yes, but why tonight?''
Gilbert didn't answer, but stayed standing by the window, either looking at something Roderich couldn't see or lost in thought.
''Gilbert?'' Roderich tried again. When he didn't answer, Roderich carefully walked towards him. He placed his hand on Gilbert's shoulder to get his attention. Gilbert turned his head slightly, but didn't look at Roderich, who noticed that the Prussian's breathing had become rather ragged.
''What's wrong?'' Roderich asked. Gilbert started to shake his head, but apparently changed his mind and brought his hand up to his forehead instead, which concerned Roderich even further.
''I-I might've hit that car a little harder than I thought,'' he mumbled, swaying a little.
''Come on, sit down,'' Roderich said, taking Gilbert by the arm once more. They were halfway to the nearest sofa when Gilbert stopped walking. Roderich gently tried to push him forward, only to find out that Gilbert wasn't really paying attention to him anymore. His eyes became foggy as they rolled up in his head, his body slumping forward. Roderich jumped, quickly grabbing him before he could fall to the ground. ''Gilbert! Hey!''
He looked around, as if there would be someone who could help him. Unfortunately for him, he and Gilbert were currently the only ones in the house. With the best of his abilities, he dragged Gilbert to his feet and propped him up against him. As careful as he could, Roderich made his way over to the couch, on which Gilbert fell ungracefully.
He was standing over the man, not knowing what to do. Feeling very awkward, he raised his hand to shake Gilbert's shoulder. The fabric of the sweater felt soft beneath his hand.
''Gilbert.''
The man didn't even stir. Roderich felt panic bubbling up inside him. What if Gilbert had a concussion? Should he take him to the hospital? Could countries even suffer like that? Although he himself had experienced a couple of wars and had gotten beat up more times than he'd like to admit, he had always recovered fairly quickly. Prussia, however, wasn't a country anymore. Was he going to be okay?
Roderich placed his hand on Gilbert's forehead, but could quickly conclude that the man didn't have a fever. He was actually pretty cold and frowned under Roderich's warm touch, who let his hand linger a little longer than perhaps necessary.
He went to fetch a blanket from the other room and returned to find Gilbert gazing at the ceiling, eyes only half opened. Roderich carefully walked over to the couch and folded out the blanket, putting it over Gilbert, who slowly turned his head to face the Austrian.
''Roddy? Why– what'd jus' happen?''
''You scared me half to death, that's what happened,'' Roderich said, keeping his voice quiet. ''You shouldn't say that you're fine when you're going to pass out half a minute later.''
''Oh.'' Gilbert blinked a couple of times, before returning his gaze to the ceiling.
Roderich sighed and sat down on the little space that was left at Gilbert's feet. ''Are you dizzy? Nauseous? Pain anywhere?'' he asked.
Gilbert let out a huff. ''Calm down, Specs. Just a little dizzy and the expected headache. Don't worry 'bout me,'' he muttered. ''It's not like I'm dying or anything,'' he added under his breath.
So Roderich was probably right about that concussion. Most likely, it wasn't that severe, if Gilbert wasn't nauseous, but he wanted to keep an eye on him nonetheless.
''Right?''
Roderich looked up at Gilbert, who seemed to be clutching the blanket as if his life depended on it. His gaze was still directed to the ceiling and Roderich saw, to his shock, that the Prussian's eyes were shimmering.
''Right?'' Gilbert asked again, swallowing and blinking furiously. ''I'm not dying, right?''
Roderich's heart sank. He couldn't pretend that the thought of Gilbert dying had never crossed his mind. He moved closer and took Gilbert's cold hands in his. The man was shaking, his breathing coming in short gasps.
''Gilbert, look at me. You're alright, just breathe,'' Roderich tried.
Gilbert took a deep, shaky breath and whispered, ''I'm scared, Roderich.''
Roderich was silent for a moment, not knowing what to say to that. He had every right to be scared. Roderich himself was scared, too. He could only think of one thing to do.
He pulled Gilbert against him and wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tightly. The man stiffened for a moment, but then relaxed into the embrace, burying his face in the Austrian's shoulder. Roderich noticed the faint smell of gasoline as he ran his fingers through the man's hair, who was now clutching him so tightly that he was finding it difficult to breathe. He didn't say anything about it, though. He could feel Gilbert shaking against him, sobbing quietly.
''It's alright. It'll be fine. Don't cry. You're okay.''
For some reason, these words only made the man cry harder. Uneven gasps and hiccups filled the room as Roderich just continued to hold him and talk to him. He just said the same things over and over again, even if they didn't make much sense. He didn't know how long they sat there, just holding each other, comforting each other. Eventually, Gilbert calmed down and Roderich leaned back into the couch next to him, adjusting the blanket so it covered the both of them.
No one said anything for a long time and Roderich found himself getting drowsy at the warmth of the blanket. He listened to Gilbert's breaths, which were now slow and controlled. It wouldn't surprise him if the Prussian was already asleep. His eyes fluttered closed as he let sleep consume him.
The sun was up when he awoke, the soft light streaming through the windows. As Roderich opened his eyes and looked down at his lap, he saw a pair of red eyes staring back at him. He smiled. ''Good morning, Gilbert.''
The Prussian blinked a few times, but didn't move. ''Hi,'' he said, his voice still thick with sleep.
''How are you feeling?'' Roderich asked.
Gilbert seemed to consider this for a moment. ''Better.''
Roderich nodded and they were both silent for a while. The only sound to be heard were the men's soft breathing and the birds chirping outside. Then a loud growl disturbed the peaceful scene. Roderich looked down at Gilbert, who was grinning slightly. ''Hungry, Specs?''
Roderich blushed and looked away, for he only now realized that the growl had come from his stomach, and not Gilbert's, for a change. ''Maybe.''
Gilbert yawned widely and pushed himself up, so that he was sitting next to the Austrian. ''How about some breakfast, then?''
Roderich sighed and stretched his arms above his head. He hummed in approval and stood up, feeling that his back and neck were quite stiff from sleeping in a weird position on the couch. He walked towards the kitchen when he heard Gilbert say: ''Hey, Roddy?''
He stopped, his hand already on the doorknob. He glanced over his shoulder at the man, who was still half covered by the blanket, brightly lit by the rays of sunshine. Gilbert fiddled with the blanket for a moment before looking up again, his expression serious, but calm. ''Thanks.''
Roderich smiled. ''Anytime.''