Write it Out - Based on Write it Out by Dashboard Confessional. I hate spoilers but I'd like any and all critiques to be based on the whole story, so, just please read until the end. GerIta fans I beg of thee to review!
"Feliciano." I called out to him in the darkened room. I knew he was there, I've began waking each time he crawls into my bed; but tonight it was different, I was completely awake, for some reason I felt like I hadn't slept at all. Like I was waiting for him.
"Ve~ Luddy, let's go to sleep." He replied; I could practically hear the smile in his voice, as he wrapped his frail arms around my torso. I suppose I should be used to it, but the feeling of his bare skin against my own always sends my heart through a loop. I suppose his feelings for me are obvious, what with the lack of other men in the nude in my bed, but for some reason, I just can't bring myself to do anything about it.
I want to move and wrap my arms around him, but, but something feels so off. I feel stuck, like if by returning my movements something terrible would happen. But really, what could happen? Would Feliciano really reject me?
He's been here with me every night, for the past… How long has it been? I should just man up- just man up and return some form of affection.
So I decided I would.
I let out a sigh, and lifted my arms up off the mattress.
Feliciano, let me hold you tonight.
And then all came crashing down.
The shots rang in from the south, firing through the glass of my window and whizzing by our heads. I could hear the bullets plant into my headboard, I could hear the strays ricochet off anything too hard for the shells to pierce. My room hadn't sounded so horrible since WWII, and I had intended to keep it that way.
"Feliciano!" I threw out into the chaos, my voice a mix between a harsh whisper and a low yell, I could feel every bone in my body shaking, urging, willing my body to get up, to flee, but I couldn't leave Feli. I… I just could not leave him.
No response.
I raised my hands to his shoulders, and began shaking him, afraid he was shot in place of myself. After a moment of thought I realized that at our low level the bullets would not be able to find us, so as long as we stayed below the line of fire, we would be okay.
Still, no response.
I rolled us onto the floor, sitting Feliciano onto my lap and checking his vitals, running my fingers blindly over his bare and limp body to feel for any, dare I even think it, bullet holes, or anything hot and wet like-
Blood. I felt it on the tips of my fingers as I slid my hand down the spine of his back.
I could feel the rage boiling inside of myself as the shots rained down harder, and more and more. Do they really think taking my life would have any significance now? Now, after my Feli-
"G-Germany~ p-please, you have t-to get~"
"FELICIANO!" I held him tight to my chest and cried out his name, burning tears falling down my checks.
"Feli...ci...ano."
This was in cold blood. Somebody would pay for this.
The sounds of shattering glass and metal meeting wood were put on a temporary hiatus, and somewhere far off in the distance, I could hear men shouting. It was no victory shout, however.
I know a victory shout.
They were calling for the big guns. They sounded American, well at least English speakers minus the English accent, but that was all I could catch until something big was thrown through the remnants of my window, landing with a hard and loud thud.
Grenade.
Feliciano. I kissed his lips and ran, grabbing my revolver on my way out. Half way down the stairs, it happened. It happened very quickly, but seemed to last for hours. Everything was crisp and clean, 'till all came crashing down. The grenade went off, leaving a ringing in my ears and taking half of the wall to my room with it. I was just barely out of the way when it happened, and still my thoughts kept going back to Feliciano.
"Feliciano… I'm sorry."
So much fire, and debris, that I was nearly blind. The house was quickly filling with smoke and the only light source around were the burning support beams from my room.
Through the panic and adrenaline coursing through my veins I could feel the low rumble, the vibrations, of a helicopter, a plane, something big, somewhere near my house. I turned, looking for any intruders- anyone. I ran to Gilbert's room, but before I opened the door I remembered he had spent the night at Austria's.
I had to make a decision, the helicopter was nearing, and I'm sure that it had bigger 'guns' than that tiny grenade. I could escape to the north, out of the front of my house, but I was sure to run into enemies there, I could escape to the west, and the east as well, but at this point in time I had no idea who my allies were. The only two men I trusted were either a continent away… Or… dead.
And then it hit me. I remembered a tunnel I dug, it was made to move ammunitions stealthily underground, and there was an entrance below the rug in my kitchen. I ran there, slamming my revolver on the ground and flipping the dining table out of the way. I lifted the rug, causing the chairs to fall all around me, and hoisted up the heavy secret door way.
I stared down into the blackness and contemplated getting a flashlight. There was no time. The helicopter was so close I could feel the beating of its blades in sync with the beating of my heart.
Grabbing my revolver I leapt into the dark, damp hole, shutting the hatch behind myself. And I ran. I couldn't tell you which way I went, since my house had been a center for distributions the tunnels went in all directions. I must have been running for not more than a minute when the tunnel behind me collapsed, and I felt the shockwave of some large bomb knock me off my feet, knock the wind right out of me.
It was gone, everything I had. Would this be the end of me?
I fell to my knees, palms flat on the dark soil. I still could not see.
I felt out of breath.
But I had to keep going.
The further I ran, the more signs of life I felt. Since I had no light I ran with my hand against the side of the tunnel, and I felt the tiny strands of roots every so often, but now, now they were hanging from the ceiling, protruding from the walls, thick and strong.
"I must be under a forest, or something…" I spoke to myself, the hallow echo reminding me of how alone I actually was. The roots gave me hope, they helped me to believe that there was a chance I might make it out of this… and after such a massive explosion there was no way they would find a body in the rubble. They would just have to assume I was dead.
The more I ran, the thicker the roots became, causing me to force my way through them by physically pushing them aside. It seemed that I would have to find and exit soon, or make one.
I hesitated, thinking that it was too soon to leave this earthen shelter, so I pressed on. The roots became so thick and so strong that they cut through my skin, and I decided that it was time to dig my way out.
I backtracked, to a section of the tunnel with roots sturdy enough for me to climb, struggling to weave my body through the vines, the roots, the life that seemed to be growing thicker by the second. The tears and scrapes on my skin deepening with every movement until it felt like I was entwined. I felt as if the roots had become my flesh and as if I were vine.
After what felt like hours struggling though the pitch-black tunnel, I reached my desired spot, and pulled my revolver from my pants. I needed to gauge how far under I was, so I fired a shot, two shots, three shots, before the light of day finally shone through to me.
I broke away pieces of nearby root and ripped off a decent patch of cloth from my pant. I made a makeshift shovel by tying the sturdy, rough wood together.
I etched away at the soil above me, dirt and stone falling on my face and body, seeping into my raw skin and stinging me to the bone. It was painful. I stood for hours.
Thoughts of Feliciano poured into my head.
If only… If only I told him I loved him sooner.
If only I'd held him closer.
Spoke to him softer.
Kissed him. Just once.
Feli…
I paused. I lowered my shovel, and clapped my hands free of the dirt that was caking them. Feliciano. He was gone. I, I could do nothing to help him. There would be no body. My home must be vaporized by this point.
Where will I go?
The ground above me began to crumble and shift on its own, pebbles and more cold dirt showering me. The top of the tunnel was getting too hard to reach so I began climbing up a few sturdy roots, taking advantage of the little amount of light that my pistol had granted me.
I decided to fire another shot above me to further loosen up the compact soil. I have no idea how long I've been down here for, but I know the light of day when I see it.
My gunshot caused half of the hole I was digging to give way and I managed to squeeze my way through the opening, gasping for air as I emerged. Oh, how good it felt to breathe.
To know that I was still alive.
The sun on my skin, the fresh air, and the prospect of being on land rather then under it caused me to lack in my survival skills, not really registering where I was until I began to look around.
I seemed to be in the center of a town, there were people everywhere to behold and admire, and for some reason I longed to be one of them. I was covered in grey dirt, and they just stared. The brave approached me. They called out to me in French, English, and some in Spanish.
Though I was lost, I felt familiar with my surroundings, but they didn't look quite right, like some place I had been before under cover of night. I found my way by light of day to the center of the crowd, stood on the edge of a fountain and got their attention.
"I, I am one of you. We are all humane people here. I beg you for your help." The crowd gathered. The mothers held their children's hands, and the fathers held their wives. The fear and love and primal instincts pumping through their bloods. Nobody knew what to expect.
Behind me I heard some yelling, I turned to find an older man, someone from the religious sect emerging from the town's small cathedral. He pointed his finger at me with a scour.
"I, I remember you. You have not aged at all." He began, still pointing at me but turning to his peers. His thick French accent poured in through his words. "You came here late one night during the war, you had a smaller Italian man on your back and you asked for a room."
The memories came flooding back, my troops had just occupied western France and Feliciano claimed he was too tired to head back to camp. He begged me to carry him and we stopped here, just outside of Colmar to find a place to rest.
"I was just a boy back then, but now, as you can see, I have aged. Yet you, you have not." I could see where this was going. His tone grew thick with insinuation and he was about to turn me into some sort of monster.
"Vampire! Devil! You- you are an abomination of the church and God's gracious gift to us!" The old man's words stung more fiercely than the dirt in my wounds, then the fact that my Feliciano was gone.
The crowd gasped. I was stunned. There was no way to explain who I really am, and the prospect of getting back into my tunnel seemed next to impossible with such a large crowd around me.
"Don't let him get you! Attack!" The old man yelled, as he wriggled a brick free from the earth. The part of the crowd nearest him followed suit, and, soon enough, everyone in the crowd was aiming at me.
One by one, brick by heavy, blunt cornered, brick, they threw. I felt the aches and pains, as the red stone was cast at me, hitting my head, my legs, everywhere, and, all I could think of was my Feliciano. How I wish I had just two more seconds with him.
Second one: To tell him I love him more than life itself.
Second two: To kiss him, just once, on his lips, and to feel, just once, the sweet return of his lips on mine.
The shower of bricks evolved into a frenzied tug of war as I fell back into the fountain, crashing my head against the stone and nearly falling unconscious. I knew I would die at their hands, for I was ground to heretic. To be loathed, and set fire, and laid upon a funeral fire, and as I cast my eyes to the sky… I feel his touch.
So… Gentle, and so soothing, that I knew I had been saved, but my movements were so labored, and my will had been betrayed, by my lips they work alone now, speaking words I can't conceive.
And I yearned, to be free, and then he rescued me, with his voice, and beckoned me beside him, and his touch was alive, sensational and vibrant. And with care in his words he said:
"Germany, don't cry. Open your eyes, Germany. Germany!" I felt his hands clasping my face, lifting it from the pillow and calling out to me. "Germany! Ludwig! You were only dreaming, and now I'm here with you at last."
Was this all really a dream?
I opened my eyes to see my Feliciano, his face mere inches from my own, with furrowed brows and glossy eyes. He slid his thumbs under my eyes simultaneously, wiping my own tears from my face.
"You were only dreaming, Germany." He reiterated. He smiled and his tears stopped falling.
Why was he crying?
I wanted to reach up and touch his face; I wanted to press his lips to mine. I wanted to pull him to me. I felt frozen, labored, and still stunned from my dream.
"I'm glad you're awake, Luddy. What where you dreaming about?" He whispered, wrapping his arms around my torso and resting his head over my heart. His hair smelt fresh, his skin smooth. I could feel his heart beat against my chest. He is alive.
"Feliciano, it was a horrible dream." I stated, blandly. The three words that I longed to tell him lingered on the tip on my tongue. The want of his lips against mine still fresh on my mind.
"Do you want to tell me about it?"
"Nein, Feli. Do you know what time it is?" I asked, hoping to change the subject.
"It's about three in the morning. Are you sure you don't want to tell me about it? You said a lot of things while you slept, Germany…"
My mind drew a blank. I was too terrified to ask, to terrified to move. Too terrified to breathe. My world stopped, completely. I felt nauseas. My throat was dry, coarse, and I could feel every breath of air passing though it drying it out even further. I wrapped my arms around Feliciano, pulling him tight to my body, hoping he would understand my silence.
What did he hear me say?
Praying he might wait a little longer.
Wondering if he loved me too.
I held him close for a long while. Eventually his breathing slowed and became incredibly rhythmic. I knew he was asleep.
And I took a small breath in.
And decided I would write it out in my journal in the morning.
And just before drifting off again, I kissed the top of his head, twice.
And whispered to him my confession.
"Feliciano, I love you."
Xoxo, OurGloryDays.