Hi, there!
This is my first official Hetalia fic! (The other one I have posted was written by a friend of mine.) Anyways, I thought I'd give my hand at one. (Angsty, or course, because that's my specialty XD ). So here it is. I know, this topic has been over done, but... I couldn't resist!
Please note that this story is probably the least historically accurate thing will you ever read. Also, this does not reflect any of my personal views. It's just written for fun.
Please, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing... Absolutely nothing...
Antonio and Francis waited besides a anxious Ludwig. The tall blonde was fidgeting, something that he never, ever, did. Besides him stood little Feliciano, quiet for once. Besides the Italian was Roderich, who was clutching the hand of Elizaveta tightly. The six of them were standing a few yards away from the wall, watching Arthur and Alfred converse quietly with a few Russian guards.
Ludwig huffed out a breath, eyes darting everywhere, shifting his weight from one foot to another, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Francis put a comforting hand on his shoulder and looked up at the younger nation.
"Calm down, mon ami," he whispered. "I'm sure everything is fine."
"Then where the hell is Ivan?" Ludwig mumbled. "Where is he?"
There was no explanation for who "he" was. The other five already knew. It was the reason they were here to begin with.
The group saw Alfred nod and then he and Arthur turned and walked slowly back to the group, talking to each other. The Russian guards turned and went back through the checkpoint, disappearing on the other side of the stone blockade.
"What'd they say?" Ludwig growled. "Where is he?"
Alfred looked up, eyebrows knitted together and a frown on his face. Arthur was the one to speak.
"He's on his way," Arthur told the group. "But, ah… Ludwig… they said… well, it's… it's not pretty…"
Ludwig blinked. Besides him, Feliciano took his hand and squeezed it tightly.
"What do you mean…?" Antonio asked softly, speaking what was on everyone's minds. All heads turned towards the Spaniard.
Arthur rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, with Prussia no longer a nation, Gilbert has suffered through a lot of physical stress. Not to mention how much Ivan… you know…"
There was no need to finish the thought.
"Damn it…." Ludwig ran a hand through his hair. It had been days since the Eastern people had swarmed the wall, and still there was no sign of his elder brother. He and Roderich and Elizaveta had waited… and waited… and waited… Feliciano had come to offer his support as soon as news had reached him. Antonio and Francis had arrived a few hours ago, their celebration cut short when they saw no sign of their old friend.
Alfred and Arthur had immediately flown over as soon as the news reached them, and had been working nonstop since then so that they could figure out what was going on, and how to solve everything. The dark circles under their eyes were proof of that.
The problem was that Ivan had yet to step forward and return Gilbert to his brother… Germany was reunited- it was only right that the two brothers be together again as well.
"How far away are they?" Elizaveta asked, just as anxious.
"Should be here soon, actually," Alfred said, gazing thoughtfully at the wall. Arthur spared him a curious glance, before turning back to Ludwig.
"Ludwig, I don't know what's going to happen when Ivan gets here, so please... try to control yourself."
Ludwig growled. "We'll see…" He squeezed Feliciano's hand harder.
Arthur turned a pleading look towards Roderich, who nodded and began to speak in German with the blonde. Elizaveta joined in after a time.
Alfred had wandered closer to the wall, a hand under his chin and a finger thoughtfully tapping his nose. Arthur ran after him, demanding to know what the younger man was thinking. Feliciano stood holding Ludwig's hand, staring at his feet, not even trying to figure out the conversation around him.
Francis turned to Antonio, who was watching the gate with narrowed eyes. The Frenchman grabbed his hand, startling the brunette slightly. Antonio turned to look at him, and smiled sadly.
"The man that comes through that gate isn't going to be the same man who we knew… is it?" he asked softly, green eyes sad.
Francis shrugged. "I don't know… but I do know that Gilbert will get passed this… He's strong."
"But he still had a country then…." Antonio replied. "He was strong because of his people… What is he going to do now?"
Francis only gripped his friend's hand tighter.
"There he is!"
At Feliciano's exclamation, everything stopped. All conversation, all movement, all breathing stopped as well.
Through the gate strode Ivan, large and foreboding as usual, a angry scowl on his face and his scarf trailing behind him. In his hand he held a rope, and connected to the other end of it was a man, his wrists out in front and tied together.
Ludwig made a sound and began to stumble forward, but Arthur caught his wrist. Ludwig glared at him, but the Briton shook his head, and he and Alfred stepped forward. Ivan stopped a few feet from them, Gilbert coming to a halt as well. He looked up through his too-long bangs at the small group and grinned softly.
"Ivan," Alfred grunted. He glanced at Gilbert before focusing back on the taller man.
"Hello, Alfred," Ivan sneered. He tugged on the rope and the albino man stumbled forward. Ludwig made to move again, but this time it was Roderich who stopped him.
The white-haired man was thin, and his hair was longer than it used to be. His red eyes stared at the ground, and his back was stooped, not straight like it usually was. Francis let his eyes roam over him, looking for any injuries. There were bruises around his wrists from the rope, but the heavy clothing Gilbert was wearing obscured any further scrutiny. There were dark bags under his eyes, and his lips were chapped and bleeding, but with his head down, Francis could see nothing more.
A shout from Ludwig brought the blonde's attention back to the taller nations and he saw Roderich, Elizaveta, and Feliciano holding the German man back. The blonde was shouting in German, a wild look in his eyes. Roderich and Elizaveta were also yelling, and Arthur looked murderous from where he was glaring at Ivan. The Russian smirked, violet eyes roaming the chaos he had created.
"What happened?" Francis whispered, eyes wide and watching the scene before him.
"Ivan just said he's not giving Gilbert back," Antonio replied. "Francis… He's-"
"I know."
"Everyone shut the hell up!"
All eyes turned to Alfred, who was standing off to the side. He straightened to his full height, and even though it didn't measure up to Ivan's stature, it was still impressive. He strode up to Ivan and got right up into his face.
"You listen to me," he growled, pointing a finger at him. "You are going to give Gilbert back to his brother. You are going to leave here, and not look back. And you are going to let every single one of those people pass through that damn wall before I begin tearing it down with my bare hands."
Silence.
The small group was staring at the teenager in awe. Ivan even looked surprised.
"And if I don't?"
"Then I will march over here and so-help-me-God, I will start firing everything I've got and I won't care who gets caught in the crossfire."
Silence.
"So I suggest that if you don't want World War III to erupt, that you return Gilbert to his brother and never bother around here again. Got that?"
Alfred and Ivan glared at one another for a long time. A time that no one moved, no one dared to do anything, fear of breaking the tension paralyzing them down to the core.
Ivan's face fell, and he glared at Alfred. "I never wanted this piece of trash anyways," he spat, throwing the end of the rope at the blonde nation, who deftly caught it. The Russian turned on his heel and headed back the way he came, the flap of his scarf the only sound following him. Ludwig ripped out of his friend's grasp and ran towards his brother, who had collapsed on the ground as soon as Ivan had passed him. He was muttering feverishly to the albino, trying to get the ropes off his wrists.
"Gilbert! Gilbert, look at me! Gilbert!"
The ropes fell off and Ludwig moved his hands to his brother's face, cupping it and pushing the bangs out of his face.
"Gilbert, look at me, Bruder! Say something! Gilbert! Bruder!"
"West…"
"Oh, Gott, Gilbert," Ludwig wailed, examining his brother's face. "Bruder, talk to me! Are you hurt? Gilbert, oh, Gilbert…!"
"I want to go home…"
Ludwig looked at his brother, who gave him a small grin, before pulling him close and clutching him to his chest, hands clutching the back of Gilbert's brown leather coat as he buried his face in the elder's neck. The albino was startled for a moment, before he raised his thin arms to return the embrace. After a few moments, Gilbert's grip became just as desperate as his brother's, and the two kneeled on the ground, everyone else forgotten.
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"It's good to see you," Elizaveta gushed, pulling away reluctantly from the hug around Gilbert. She placed a quick peck to his cheek, making his gaunt cheekbones flush red.
"Ve, it's good to have Gilbert back," Feliciano said from the pale man's side. On his other side stood Ludwig, refusing to go out of reaching distance of his brother.
"Despite the problems you're known to cause, it's just not the same without you," Roderich added, shaking Gilbert's hand before pulling him into a brief hug. "Even though our relationship isn't the best, I'd rather you be here than with that man…"
Gilbert nodded, then spotted Alfred and Arthur standing to the side. He nudged Ludwig in their direction, and the two of them made their way over.
"Thank you…" Gilbert told them softly, shaking their hands.
"Don't mention it," Alfred said. "If Ivan gives you problems, let me know."
"Same here," Arthur added. "I'm not that far away, closer than Alfred, so I can help until he gets here."
"We will," Ludwig promised, also shaking their hands.
"Gilbert, I think you better go and say hello before Francis jumps you…." Alfred chuckled, looking behind the German brothers.
Gilbert's eyes widened and he whipped around, red eyes darting around until they landed on the man in question, Antonio standing besides him.
"Bruder, wait!" Ludwig yelled after him as Gilbert took off towards his friends at a dead run.
Francis and Antonio followed his example, and the three met halfway. Francis and Antonio clutched at Gilbert, seemingly trying to crawl in the smaller man's skin. Francis was muttering in French, and Antonio was speaking rapidly in Spanish, and when they both pulled away, Gilbert smiled at them.
"Hi…" Gilbert said awkwardly, that smile still on his face.
"You've been gone how many years and all you can say is 'hi'?" Francis cried, swiping at his eyes.
"You suck at this reunion thing, mi amigo," Antonio laughed, tears streaming down his face.
Gilbert shrugged, and then pulled his friends close again, one for each arm. Their hands clasped behind his back, and the world began to turn once more.
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Antonio knocked at his friend's door, not surprised when it opened right away. Francis nearly ran him over as he barreled out the door.
"Sorry, Antonio," he breathed. "Ready?"
"Si," Antonio replied. He grinned at his friend and followed him down the street. "Why the rush?"
Francis sighed and quickened his pace, Antonio nearly running to keep up with his long strides. "I talked to Ludwig the other day. He's not doing well…"
"Ludwig or Gilbert?"
Antonio could be so dense sometimes.
"Gilbert. Ludwig says he barely talks, and just kind of wanders around the house. He's not sleeping either…"
Antonio blinked. "That's not like Gilbert at all."
Francis shook his head. "No, it's not. I'm worried about him. I mean, he won't talk to Ludwig. Roderich tried too, even Elizaveta and Feliciano. Nothing. Alfred and Arthur stopped by, but Ludwig said he just sat there and stared at the floor."
Antonio's worry shot up. "Does he have… what's it called… Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?"
Francis shrugged. "I don't know… maybe… Ludwig thought that if we visited him, it might make him… at least do something. I mean, it's been over a week…"
The rest of the journey was spent in silence as the duo hurried to their friend's house. When they got there, Ludwig answered the door, looking a mixture of relief, irritation, worry, and lost, all at the same time.
"He's in his room," the blonde said as the two removed their shoes and coats. "He's been sitting on the bed looking at pictures all day. I don't… Feli even…. Just, try something…"
Francis gave Ludwig's shoulder a pat before following his friend up the steps and down the hall to a familiar room. Antonio knocked softly before opening the door a smidge and peeking in.
"Gilbert?" he said quietly, poking his head around and leaving enough room for Francis to look in as well.
The albino's head shot up at his name, red eyes wide and wild before coming to rest on the two familiar faces. He smiled and motioned for them to enter, shutting the photo album he had on his lap and setting it to the side.
The two friends smiled and entered. The room was decent sized, large closet and a door leading to the bathroom on one wall. A bed covered in simple black sheets and a yellow comforter was against another wall, a large window overlooking the backyard by the head. Another one was further down the wall, and in between the two windows was a dresser. Against the last wall sat a desk. And on every surface, there were pictures; hundreds upon hundreds of pictures, covering the entirety of the walls. Antonio recognized himself in quite a number of them, as well as Francis and Ludwig. Roderich and Elizaveta were in a few of them, and rest were of anything and everything that Gilbert had found interesting…. Ever. This included a nest of small yellow birds, much like the one perched on Gilbert's head, a few dogs, and random other pictures.
While Antonio studied the walls, Francis was studying his friend. Now that he wasn't wearing a huge bulky coat and his hair had been cut, Francis could see a little more than he had over a week ago.
Gilbert had always been lean; out of the three of them, he had had the worst nutrition growing up. He was the shortest as well, but strong; always had been. Francis had seen the younger man wield two battle axes at the same time; had seen him throw a dagger and have it embedded permanently into a tree's trunk.
But now, he just looked plain thin. He had lost all the muscle mass, so all that was left was just… almost just skin and bones. He was unnaturally pale, even for an albino; he seemed almost transparent. Without the long hair, Francis could now see the bags under Gilbert's eyes more clearly, the dark bruise on his cheek, and the small cut on his temple that had been stitched shut. He could only imagine what lay underneath the white long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans he was wearing. Rage burned within him. Ivan had done this.
The two friends made their way over to the bed and sat down on either side of the smaller man. He smiled at them.
"So, how have you been?" Antonio asked.
Gilbert shrugged.
"I see you cut your hair," Francis mentioned. "I never thought you'd go for my hairstyle. Ah, but it looks like it's catching on. Don't worry; you couldn't have pulled it off anyways."
Gilbert raised an eyebrow and scowled at the same time. He turned towards Antonio and opened his mouth to say something, and Antonio felt his heart flutter. Could this be it?
But his hope was dashed as soon as it rose, for Gilbert shut his mouth with a small "click." Instead, he reached behind him and grabbed a photo album from one of the many piles and flipped through it. He stopped at a page and pointed to a picture, eyebrows raised.
Antonio and Francis leaned in to gaze at the picture. It was a candid of Lovino and Antonio from years ago at New Years. Lovino was scowling at the Spaniard, who was wasted beyond measure and had promptly grabbed a random lady in the bar and begun dancing the flamenco with her, complete with dress and a sombrero. Gilbert's finger was poised above Lovino's face, and he was looking at Antonio expectantly.
How is it with you and the brat?
"Lovi? Oh, he's good. We're getting along quite well, actually," Antonio babbled, a smile gracing his face. "He's actually not too bad once you get to know-"
"Oh, wonderful," Francis interrupted. "You've got him started, now he'll never stop."
Antonio glared at Francis and then turned back to Gilbert, who was smiling and flipping through the book again. This time, he pointed to a picture of Francis, who had his arm around an irritated-looking Arthur.
What about you and Eyebrows?
Francis snorted. "Please. I gave up on him. I've decieded to go after Mathieu instead… He's so cute!"
Antonio rolled his eyes, but Gilbert continued to smile and sort through the photo album, pointing at pictures and asking silent questions. After a while, Francis gently grabbed the thin wrist. Gilbert looked up, eyes filled with confusion… and fear…
"Mon ami, enough about us…" Francis whispered.
"Si, we want to hear you talk," Antonio agreed.
Gilbert shook his head and tried to pull away from Francis, but the blonde tightened his hold. Red eyes began to panic, and Gilbert's efforts doubled.
"Francis, stop…" Antonio said, and the Frenchman let go. Gilbert clutched his arm to his chest, as if it pained him. "I have another idea…"
Francis looked curiously at the brunette, who turned to Gilbert. "Gilbert, do remember when I came back from fighting with mi Armada?"
Gilbert nodded, eyes narrowed.
"You remember how messed up I was, right? And do you remember what you did?"
Gilbert thought about it, then nodded suspiciously.
"Before I had even left, you grabbed my blessed chain and told me, 'If you want it back, you'll have to come back and get it.' And when I came back, you still didn't give it back. You said, 'You might be back physically, but mentally, your mind is still in that dungeon on Kirkland's ship. When that man decides to grace us with his presence, then you'll get it back.' And damn it, you held on to it until I was better in every way possible."
"And after the whole incident with Napoleon?" Fancis added, seeing where his friend was going with this. "You took away my favorite outfit and said almost the exact same thing."
"So now," Antonio said. "You're the one who needs that support. You left half of yourself on the other side of that wall. And none of us can even begin to imagine what you went through… but we're here. And we need a whole Gilbert, not a half…"
Gilbert looked at his two friends, then clutched the cross pendant he wore around his neck. Antonio looked at him sadly and held out his hand.
"Please, Gil… We're trying to help," Francis urged.
Gilbert shook his head vigorously, eyes clenched shut. He gripped his pendant tightly.
"Gilbert…"
More shakes, this one accompanied by a hand pointing to the door.
OUT!
"Gilbert, please!"
"NO!"
It was the first thing he had said since those few words on the day he was reunited, and it was soft for a yell, but forceful. Antonio and Francis stared at him. Gilbert continued to shake his head and point repeatedly at the door. Footsteps sounded down the hall, and Ludwig came bursting in the room, worry on his face.
"Bruder?"
Gilbert threw the photo album still in his lap on the floor and began pushing his two friends off his bed.
"Gilbert, what're you doing?" Ludwig asked, coming closer. He looked at the panicked expression on his brother's face and then to the other two nations, putting two and two together. His eyes narrowed.
"I think you'd better leave…" he growled.
Francis nodded and allowed the albino man to push him out the door, followed by Antonio. The door slammed shut with finality, leaving Ludwig and Gilbert trapped on the other side.
"Well, that couldn't have gone worse…." Francis sighed, making his way downstairs.
"What happens now, amigo?" Antonio asked, following him. "I really thought that would work…"
Francis shrugged, pulling on his coat as the brunette tied up his shoes. "I don't know… We'll think of something, Antonio. Don't worry. We won't give up so easily."
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Francis opened the door, a little surprised by the person on the other side.
"Ludwig?"
The tall blonde smiled shyly. "Hello, Francis…"
Francis blinked, then seemed to remember his manners and smiled, stepping aside to allow the German access to his home. "Please, come in."
Ludwig nodded and stepped inside, Francis shutting the door behind him and taking Ludwig's coat from him before hanging it up. He led him through the hallway and into the living room, where the Frenchman offered a seat on the couch, taking the chair opposite.
"Can I offer you a drink or a snack? I just got these lovely-"
Ludwig shook his head. "No, I am fine, thank you…"
Francis blinked again, then nodded. "Is everything okay, Ludwig? I mean… is Gilbert…"
"He is the same," Ludwig replied. "He was quite shaken up after your visit the other day, which is why I came to speak with you."
"Look, Ludwig, I am so sorry. We didn't know he was going to react that way. We were only trying to help and-"
The younger man held up a hand to silence the other one. Francis closed his mouth quickly.
"That is why I came today. I may have… jumped to conclusions. I guess I was just… he hasn't spoken a word, and then the first thing he does say is out of panic and… Gott, Francis, I just don't know what to do. This isn't mien bruder…"
There was silence in which Ludwig ran a hand over his tired face.
"I talked to Feli, and he explained what you and Antonio were trying to do. I tried to get a hold of him, but Lovino said he's out in the tomato field." Ludwig reached into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew a hanker chief, which was wrapped around something. "Gilbert doesn't know I took it. He was in the shower when I grabbed it, but if what you and Antonio plan on doing works, I'll be in your debt…" he reverently unwrapped the hankie and inside was a familiar cross pendant. Ludwig looked up at Francis.
"Please," he begged. "I need my bruder back…"
Francis nodded and leaned forward, taking the pendant and gripping the younger blonde's hand tightly before letting go.
"We'll get him back, mon cher…" Francis promised. "We'll get him back."
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It was a month before anything happened. Francis and Antonio kept away from Gilbert, as per request of Ludwig. If Gilbert wanted to get better, he would have to find the Frenchman and Spaniard. The two had kept in contact with the German, to get updates on their friend, and what they heard was not helping their hopes.
Gilbert had been livid when he discovered that his brother had taken his pendant. He had gone through the house in a silent rage, smashing mirrors and throwing his photo albums around his room. He had even thrown a pair of scissors at Ludwig before locking himself in his room, refusing to come out unless the blonde was gone or sleeping.
He still wasn't talking.
So it was quite a surprise when, at two in the morning, a soft knock came at Francis' door. Groggily looking at the clock and groaning, the Frenchman pushed his covers back and grabbed his robe, tightening the belt as he flicked on his light and blindly made his way downstairs to the front door, turning on lights as he did so.
"Who dares to interrupt my beauty sleep?" he growled as he opened the door, the threat dying in his throat instantly.
Gilbert was standing on his porch, clad in a pair of ripped jeans and a heavy coat. His boots weren't laced, and he gave his friend a small, sad, shy smile.
"Gilbert…" Francis breathed.
His friend quickly averted his eyes and shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously.
"Gilbert… is everything alright? What are you doing here at this time?"
Gilbert shrugged, then glanced at Francis before looking away quickly. He shivered slightly. Francis blinked, then stepped aside.
"Gilbert, come on. It's freezing out here." He held out a hand for the other man, but Gilbert shook his head and took a step back, eyes wide. Francis blinked again, dropping his arm.
"Gilbert, you can't stay out here all night…"
Gilbert bit the bottom of his lip and then stepped forward slowly. After pausing slightly, he continued passed Francis into the Frenchman's home, where he jammed his hands in his jeans pockets and stood in the hallway awkwardly as Francis shut the door. He held his hands out again, this time slowly as Gilbert watched with narrowed eyes.
"Let me take your coat, mon ami," he said quietly.
Gilbert watched him for a moment before shrugging off his jacket to reveal a red hoodie. He handed the brown leather coat to Francis and quickly shoved his hands into the giant pocket on the front of his sweatshirt as the blonde hung it up in his closet. He turned back to his silent friend when he was finished.
"So… would you like a hot drink? Beer, perhaps?" Francis asked, leading the other man into the living room where they sat down, Gilbert on the couch and Francis in the chair.
Gilbert shook his head and glanced around before looking at the worried face of his friend.
"Does Ludwig know you're here, Gilbert?"
Another shake of the head.
Francis sighed, then stood slowly. "I think I should probably give him a call. He's most likely out of his head with worry."
Gilbert looked horrified and shook his head more ferociously. He held up three fingers to Francis.
"Three?" Francis questioned, confused.
Gilbert nodded. He pointed a finger at himself, then held up a single finger. He pointed a finger at Francis, then held up two. Then he held up three and indicated the third.
Francis' face was contorted in confusion as he tried to comprehend what his friend was trying to tell him. "Gilbert… I don't understand… three what?"
Gilbert snorted and repeated his earlier gesture. Afterwards, he pointed to the three different seating arrangements in the living room and looked pointedly at Francis.
"Gilbert, just tell me what you're trying to say!" Francis exclaimed, growing frustrated at both his friend's refusal to speak and his own inability to figure out what he wanted. "Three what? Three chairs? Three designs? Three people!"
Gilbert nodded at the last guess vigorously. He pointed to himself, then Francis, and then to the empty chair.
Francis blinked. Okay, so he had worked out that Gilbert wanted a third person here. But who? He had vetoed his brother, the most obvious choice. There was only one other possible person the albino could have been referring when talking about himself and Francis.
"You want Antonio here?"
Gilbert nodded enthusiastically. Francis blinked.
"Alright… I'll call him. I don't know if he'll be able to come at this hour, but…"
Gilbert just stared at him.
Francis sighed. "Just… stay here. I'll go call Antonio and then put on some proper attire. I'll be right back."
He cast a worried glance over his shoulder as he left the room and hurried to his room, where he cast off his robe and pulled on a pair of boxers and pajama pants. He grabbed a white t-shirt and pulled it over his head, grabbing his cell phone from his nightstand as he pushed an arm through the sleeve.
He dialed Antonio's number from heart, praying that the Spaniard wasn't too angered with him for calling at nearly three in the morning.
"Who the hell is this?" came a tired and irritated voice that was definitely not Antonio's.
"Hello, Lovi," Francis smiled.
There was sputtering on the other end.
"What the hell do you want?" Lovino spat, clearly angered at being awoken by one of his least favorite people (not that it was hard to make that list).
"Dearest, Lovi, could I not call and see how the little tomato is doing?"
"Don't call me that!" Lovino yelled softly.
Francis chuckled. "Actually, I was wondering if I could speak with Antonio. It's rather important."
"Oh, really? And what would happen if I simply hung up…?"
"I would continue to call until my request is fulfilled."
There was shuffling on the other end and Francis heard Antonio mutter sleepily in Spanish. Lovino replied quickly in the same language, and Francis grinned. Those two really were perfect for each other, despite what others thought.
"Hola, Francis," came Antonio's tired voice. "Que pasa?"
"Mon ami, I am terribly sorry to call at this time," Francis told him.
Antonio yawned into the phone. "Si, Lovi is very angry at the moment."
There was angry muttering in the background, to which Antonio replied back sleepily. He yawned again.
"Anyways, what prompted this late night call?"
"Gilbert is sitting in my living room," Francis said softly.
There was silence on the other end.
"How is he?" Antonio asked, sounding more awake.
"He is asking for you to come here."
"I'll be there in an hour," Antonio told him before hanging up.
Francis sighed and shut his phone. He ran a hand through his hair before sliding down the hall and down the steps quietly. He peeked over the banister into his living room, watching his friend for a few minutes silently.
Gilbert was sitting on the edge of the couch, staring at the floor. His hands played with the rip in his jeans at his knee. Every few moments, a small shiver would roll through his body.
Francis shook his head and continued the rest of the way downstairs. Gilbert looked up when he entered the room and sat down in his recently vacated chair. The silver-haired man raised an eyebrow.
"Antonio should be here soon," Francis informed him.
Gilbert nodded and gave another shy smile, before picking at the fray in his jeans once more.
"Look, Gilbert, if you could just tell me what's going on…" Francis tried.
Gilbert shook his head and pointed to the empty chair.
Not until Antonio gets here.
"Alright… at least let me apologize, for Antonio too, for what happened the last time we were together. We're only trying to help. We miss you and we just-"
Francis stopped when Gilbert held up a hand and shook his head, signaling him to be quiet. He gave him another shy smile and shrugged.
"I don't know what you're trying to say, Gilbert…"
Gilbert shrugged, then resumed his picking.
There was silence in the room as the two waited for Antonio; one man trying to figure out how to help his friend, and the other fidgeting nervously.
A hurried knock on Francis' door startled the two, and they both whipped their heads to the wooden structure. Francis jumped to his feet and practically ran to the door, tearing it open and nearly getting bowled over by the Spaniard, who quickly discarded his coat on the floor and kicked his shoes off.
"Is he okay?" he asked breathlessly, green eyes shining with worry. He was clad in a large sweatshirt and pajama bottoms, socks with tomatoes on them covering his feet.
Francis shrugged. "He hasn't told me anything."
Antonio nodded and hurried to the living room, where he smiled at Gilbert and took a seat next to him. Gilbert offered him a small grin before looking at Francis and motioning for him to sit on his other side. Francis obeyed and sat beside him.
Gilbert was silent. He said nothing, just gripped the legs of his jeans in his fists and stared at the coffee table, where a generous pile of magazines sat. A few coasters and a notebook and pen were scattered across it as well.
Francis and Antonio exchanged a look over their friend's head, and Antonio cleared his throat.
"Um, Gilbert?" he said quietly. "Are you alright, amigo? I mean, you are not hurt, are you?"
Gilbert remained silent. It was as if he hadn't even heard his friend speak.
"Gil?" Francis questioned, putting a comforting hand on the small of the albino's back.
"I know you have my cross."
It was so soft that the other two nations almost missed it. But it was there. Gilbert had spoken. And he had said an entire sentence.
Antonio blinked.
"Si, we have it… but we meant what we said."
Gilbert nodded, still looking at the coffee table. "I know."
His voice was hoarse from disuse, but it was his voice all the same. Maybe not as proud, and definitely lower in volume, but it was Gilbert's voice. Francis let a small flare of hope rise inside him.
Gilbert drew in a shaky breath. "And… you were right. I did leave a piece of me behind that wall… a big piece."
He licked his dry lips.
"I… I want my cross back…" he mumbled.
Francis swallowed. "Gilbert… We meant what we said."
"I know!" Gilbert snapped and jerked out of the half- embrace that Francis had him in. "I know! And I may hate you for it. No, I do hate you for it! That's my cross! Mine! So why the hell should I allow you two to keep it when you have no use for it?"
Francis blinked. Antonio looked a little pale.
The Prussian took in a sharp breath, and let it out slowly. "But… I know you're only trying to help me…"
Antonio and Francis exchanged a look.
"Granted, it may have taken me a while… but I get it. And I bet you hated me when I took your shit. It's just… I… I want to get back, I really do. I just… I don't know how! I can't! I… you have no idea!"
Gilbert started shaking and clamped a hand over his face. Antonio reached out and took his other pale hand in his own brown ones, Francis clamping one in a supportive manner on the albino's knee.
"I… I don't know what to do…" Gilbert whispered. "I don't… I don't want West to know. Gott, I don't want to him to ever find out. But… I can't keep this up… I've held this in for… Gott, I don't even know anymore. West… he's a good brother, but I don't want him to worry. I mean, I'm his older brother, and I should be able to handle this. But it just feels like every time I open my mouth, I'm going to scream or cry or choke, and I just don't want him to see me like that…"
"Is that why you refuse to talk?" Antonio asked gently.
Gilbert nodded behind his hand.
"You were right. Everything you said was right. And I want to get better, I really do… but every time I look at myself, or those pictures, or even my damn cross, I remember what I was like before and it hurts. Because I know I'll never be that again. But then I see how powerful West has become, and I think 'I raised that. He's strong because of me.' And when I think that, I'd go and do everything again, just so he can stay that way. I have to be strong for him, because I've always been strong. I don't want him to see me as weak, so I have keep a strong face. But I… I can't do it… I remember what is was like over there, and I…"
Gilbert choked on a dry sob, and Antonio gripped his hand harder. Francis grabbed his upper arm and rubbed it up and down comfortingly.
"What happened, Gil?" Francis asked quietly.
A shudder ran through the younger man.
"At first, it was okay. Just a lot of chores and stuff… but then the wall went up and with no hope of anyone coming over to check on me, he… he…"
Gilbert let out a sob and his shoulders shook as he began to curl in on himself.
"Gilbert, what happened?" Francis asked, growing worried as his friend shook his head. "Gilbert, what did he do?"
Gilbert shook his head again and again, sobs wracking his body as he began to rock back and forth, hand covering his face.
"Please," Antonio pleaded. "We can't do anything about what happened, but you don't need to carry this around by yourself."
Gilbert removed his hand and craned his neck to look up at the ceiling. He let out a bitter, hysterical laugh. "That's all I've been, lately. By myself. The bastard made sure of that, oh, he did. The only company I ever got was his unwelcomed ass down in that fucking cellar." He began to rub at his wrists, as if something were clamped tightly around them. His red eyes had a far away look as he transported himself back to that miserable time.
Antonio and Francis held their breath, afraid that if the heavy silence around them was broken, their friend would remain trapped before he composed himself enough to tell them of his suffering.
Minutes passed, and finally Gilbert shook his head. "I can handle beatings… I've taken worse out on the battlefield. So at the beginning I was hopeful. If he kept this up, I'd hold up pretty damn good. But then he… Mein Gott, he…" Gilbert lurched forward and dry heaved in between his sobs.
Francis swallowed thickly. "Oh, Gilbert…"
"I'm sorry!" Gilbert cried, tears streaming down his face. "I tried to be strong, I really did! But when he… he just sort of grabbed me and forced me and I couldn't do anything and I shouted for help, but no one came and he just kept doing it and then he'd bring out the pipe and-"
Francis grabbed his friend and pulled his head to his chest, allowing the Prussian to sob uncontrollably against him. Antonio shifted over so that he had his arms wrapped around both his friends, a few silent tears making their way down his face. He looked at Francis with horror.
"It's okay," Francis soothed, running his fingers through silver locks, the other hand gripped tightly in Antonio's. "You're fine now. Shhh. We've got you. Everything's okay. Shhhh."
It was quite a bit later when Gilbert managed to compose himself enough to pull away from his friends embrace. He hastily scrubbed at his eyes with his hoodie sleeve before taking a shaky breath.
"I didn't think it'd ever end… And then one day he comes and grabs me and says that we're going to see everyone 'cause the wall couldn't hold them anymore, but I thought he was lying to trick me again-he did that a lot. Get my hopes up and then crush them…"
Francis' clenched a fist.
"But when I saw everyone I realized it was true and I was happy, but then I worried that he'd keep me and I'd have to go back and then Alfred said that and he let me go and I was with West and I was finally home."
Gilbert steadied his shaking hands before continuing. "But then I was worried that it was a dream, and I thought that if I made a sound, I'd wake up and he'd be standing over me and I'd have lost everything again…"
"It's not a dream!" Antonio cried, grabbing Gilbert's face and turning it to look into his eyes. He took the thin, pale hand and placed it over his own heart. "You feel that? That's my heartbeat. If this was a dream, you wouldn't be able to feel that! I am here, Gilbert! And so is Francis and Ludwig and everyone else! And we'd all die before letting that… that… monstruo even look at you ever again!"
"Oui!" Francis agreed, and Gilbert snapped his head around to look at him. "We love you, mon ami! And we'll do anything for you! And I can guarantee that as long as there is breath in my body, I will make sure you never see the other side of that wall again!"
Gilbert's eyes filled with fresh tears.
"So listen here, amigo," Antonio said. "We'll give you your cross back, but only when you're fully healed."
"What if I can't do it?" Gilbert whispered, fear lacing his voice.
"You can!" Francis told him. "Because we'll be here to help you! You won't be alone!"
Gilbert looked at his two friends before giving them a shaky smile, tears running down his cheeks.
Antonio let out a small "tch" and pulled him into a hug. Francis joined, and the three of them were silent as the sun rose outside, simply listening to the beating of their hearts in synch with one another.
000000000000000
The music was deafening when Francis pushed open the bar door and stepped inside the small, overcrowded pub. He quickly skimmed over the other nations as his eyes sought out the one he truly wanted to see.
There, in the middle of the counter, Ludwig on one side and Antonio on the other, sat Gilbert. He had gained a little weight, and it had done wonders for his figure and skin; he no longer looked like death. All bruises and cuts had faded, leaving no trace. The bags under his eyes were completely gone, and his red eyes were no longer dull, but lit with life as he laughed from his belly at something his brother had said.
Francis shoved his way past Berwald, who was trying, and failing, to settle a drunken dispute between Denmark and Norway, as Tino watched on with glee and Iceland frowned. At the table next to them sat Kiku and Yao trying to out drink one another; Yong Soo had to have spiked the Japanese man's drink if he was drinking this much. The other Asians only cheered them on.
He passed an already drunken and rambling Arthur, while Alfred nodded and smiled, secretly watching the cute bartender out of the corner of his eye. Matthew was sitting next to them, nursing a drink of his own and being completely ignored. Francis blew a kiss at him and the younger blonde smiled, blushing. Roderich and Elizaveta were sitting next to Feliciano, who was on the other side of Ludwig, and chatting with him happily. Lovino, next to Antonio, glaring at them all while he took a long drink from his beer glass. Francis could hear Sadiq and Heracles arguing in a corner, while Vash and his little sister sat by and watched with narrowed eyes, suspicious of anyone who came too close. Feliks, Toris, Eduardo, and Ravis were at one table, quietly chatting and laughing.
"Gilbert!" Francis cried, patting his friend on the back as he came up to stand between him and Antonio.
Gilbert grinned up at him. "Francis! You made it!"
"Oui! Wouldn't miss this for the world, mon ami!" Francis laughed, hugging him briefly. He turned to the bartender. "One beer, please!"
"No wine?" Antonio asked, smiling, his face red already.
"Not tonight!" Francis yelled over the music and laughter. "I want to remember this!"
"Remember what?" Gilbert asked, taking a swig from his glass. He reached over and grabbed the full cup from in front of his brother. "Oh, come on, West! It's not like I've had a bunch! It's only my fifth one!"
"Then get your own, Bruder," Ludwig replied, snatching his beer back from the Prussian and taking a long drink. He grinned at his brother's scowl and shrugged.
Francis smiled as the two brothers began to bicker.
Several months ago, back in the early morning of his own living room, Francis and Antonio had promised that they would help their friend get better. It was going to be a long road, but they were committed; Gilbert had done the same to them and not given up.
It had been hard, on all parties involved. Gilbert had agreed to let his brother help a little, but he didn't want him to see the older man struggle. So any of the harder things he let his friends take care of. Ludwig had been a little reluctant, but agreed nonetheless.
However, it hadn't gotten easy until the end. Gilbert had fought nightmares, flashbacks, and had relived a plethora of horrors. There were times when Antonio or Francis would find him knocking on their doors in the middle of the night, close to tears.
Words had been shouted, from both sides, things had been broken and thrown away. But not once did anyone give up. Not even the five day period where Gilbert had reverted back to silence, refusing to speak until one night, Ludwig found him throwing up in the toilet, apologies trailing out of his mouth.
And now, exactly six months, three weeks, and four days since Gilbert had returned from the other side of the wall, things were looking up. Gilbert was smiling, and because he wanted to, not because he thought he had to. He was laughing and telling jokes, and calling himself "awesome" and he meant it.
Francis downed his beer in one last gulp and then climbed on top the counter, Gilbert looked at him curiously as he yelled for the bar to quiet down. The bartender turned down the music and all eyes were now on the Frenchman.
"Everyone, I have an announcement to make!" he cried, and grinned. "Several months ago, a friend of mine came to me for help! Okay, well, maybe not came so much as Antonio and I forced him too, but that's besides the point. He was stubborn, and refused, but in the end, saw the light! And now, ladies and gentlemen, Antonio and I have something to we need to do!"
Antonio grinned and scrambled up to stand beside Francis on the bar, much to the dismay of Lovino. The two grinned down at a confused Gilbert, then Francis reached into his pocket and withdrew a familiar cross pendant. Gilbert's eyes widened.
"Mon ami," Francis said, leaning down and pressing the necklace into his friend's pale hand. "I believe this belongs to you."
Gilbert stared at it for a minute, before looking up at his friends. A gentle hand reached out and took the pendant from his grasp, and Gilbert started. Ludwig grinned and undid the clasp, connecting it behind his brother's neck. The familiar cross now hung in it's rightful place against his pale chest. Gilbert looked down and ran his fingers over it.
"Welcome back, mi amigo," Antonio said.
"Welcome back, Gilbert," Ludwig grinned, taking his brother's hand.
Francis smiled and raised a glass into the air. He let his eyes roam around the bar. "To Gilbert!" he cried. "Welcome back!"
"Welcome back, Gilbert!" the entire bar chorus happily, and everyone cheered as Ludwig raised his brother's hand in the air. Gilbert blushed, the music was turned back up, and Francis and Antonio climbed down from the bar.
"Thanks, guys," Gilbert said, smiling. He gripped Ludwig's hand tighter. "Really. I know it wasn't easy, but-"
"That's what friends are for!" Antonio cried, giving him a quick hug. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Lovi and I have a date on the dance floor!"
"What?"
Antonio laughed as he dragged a protesting Lovino onto the dance floor. Gilbert laughed and Francis took the Spaniard's seat, ordering another beer.
And as Gilbert threw his head back and laughed at the clumsy dance Antonio was doing with the Italian, Francis' heart glowed.
Gilbert was back.
Yes, I know Gilbert seemed a lot OC, but after going through something as terrible as that, anyone would seem out of character.
Also, since Denmark and Norway and Iceland don't have official human names yet... they just get their regular country names. Sorry, guys. Love you!
This was really hard for me to write, considering Gilbert didn't speak for the first 3/4 of the story, and then goes on a rambling tirade. Most of my stories thrive on dialogue interaction, so I like to think that this challenge helped me improve a little.
Let me know how I did! Easy on the flames, please!