Calloused fingertips lightly traced over pale skin, a quiet chuckle sounding once they touched the patch of pink blush that had somehow weaseled itself onto the albino's cheek. Gilbert remained frozen, not able to collect his thoughts and issue a proper command from his brain to his body to move, god damn it.
React.
Defend.
He was too surprised think, let alone speak. He felt disoriented. His guard was down and he couldn't recollect himself all because of...some stupid kiss.
Locks of brown mingled with strands of gray when Antonio leaned forward to press his forehead against the paralyzed man before him, taking some pride in the fact that he was able to reduce this usually vulgar, obnoxious, and seemingly uncontrollable being to a speechless, flushed mess. Another smile, and Gilbert felt that hand slide from his cheek, brush against his neck, glide over the fabric of his jacket sleeve and stop at his wrist. He stiffened out of instinct when he felt those damned fingers touch his exposed palm, wiggled their way in between his own.
Intruder. His mind screamed that word over and over but for some reason Gilbert felt no malice, not even when the Spaniard clasped his hand, enveloping it in an unfamiliar, or rather, forgotten warmth. The urge—no, the need to protect himself from this was beginning to dwindle away, slowly but surely, along with something else inside him. Deep within the cavity of his chest, he felt something melt away and something crack. There was a thrum of pain, but it was a good kind of hurt; the hurt that let you know something was being fixed.
Antonio shifted his head so that his lips, which had been pressed against Gilbert's just moments ago, were mere centimeters away from his ear. With caution and a hint of triumph, he murmured, "At least now you'll remember me forever."
"Forever."
The albino echoed the word while it played out in his mind. His heart gave a painful throb in response which he punctuated with a sharp, hard thump to his chest. He held his clenched fist there for a moment before letting it slide to his side in defeat. "Guess you were right."
A sardonic chuckle echoed across his barren room. He didn't care, that's what he told himself every time this feeling stirred inside him. He couldn't give a rat's ass that Antonio wasn't there anymore—didn't want him anymore. It didn't matter to him. He didn't care and never would. He hadn't fallen for anyone, and the only person he loved and needed was himself—the Prussian held fast to that belief. Yet the yearning refused to subside; the sting that had taken him centuries to familiarize with had suddenly returned. He found himself trying to accommodate to it again, but now it was restless, gnawing and tearing at his being, howling with laughter at his every little squirm and vain rebutal.
Gilbert pushed the jeering demons to the back of his mind like he had so many times before and plopped onto his bed. He buried his face into his pillow and held it tight against his aching chest, searching for a comfort it couldn't bring. A comfort that was now nothing but a distant, wistful memory.
A/N: Just an angsty little drabble that I pumped out while I should have been doing homework. Anyway, thanks for the read, guys! This is just me putting bits of my Prussia headcanon into words. Any critique is greatly appreciated.