You're just one of 3,000 students at (school name) High School in (Town), (State/Province/Country/Other). You're in honors classes, but 1/10 of your grade is in honors classes. You're bad at sports, but almost half of everyone at (school name) High are bad at sports. The only thing special about you is your art. You love to draw, have since you were three, and can get a fairly accurate representation of pretty much any object under, over, or around the sun.
So why are you sitting in gym class, trying to run a mile in under 13 minutes? Well, as you said before, you aren't very good at sports. And, as your gym teacher has been out sick with some kind of "terminal illness" (you'd be willing to bet any money he's actually just taking a break from his job. It's a sad day when the gym teacher is more lazy than the students), the student teacher, who's actually only a few years older than your age of 18, has taken over.
"Run faster, _!" Mr. Beilschimdt, known to his favorites as Mr. Ludwig, screams. You try your hardest, but your thin legs can't take you any farther, as you haven't eaten much of anything in a week. "You're the only one still running!" he chides. You blush heavily as the students sitting around the track laugh at your slowness.
By the time you finally finish and get cooled down, all you want to do is curl up in a ball and cry, but you know it'll have to wait another period until you can finally get out of this prison known to the general public as "school" and get home. It's not your fault you don't have enough food to stay strong like other kids! At least your next class is art, and the teacher, Mr. Vargas, is just about the awesomest guy ever (even though thinking about it, he's about Mr. Beilschimdt's age).
As soon as you enter the art room, you instantly feel at home. Why couldn't they teach you how to paint giant murals in gym? You could practice wall climbing, and you'd be able to actually excel at something minorly athletic. But as soon as you sit down in your customary seat in the back left-hand corner of the classroom, a familiar face shows itself and ruins any tiny shred of happiness you had left.
"Hello class, I am Mr. Beilschimdt, and I will be your substitute teacher today while Mr. Vargas is on leave from… pasta sickness…" he facepalms, and you realize the two must have been formerly acquainted. "So… I honestly have no idea what you do in an art class, so just pick up your pencils and draw… something, I guess."
You smile. A free day in art? Maybe this will turn out a bit better than you thought. Tapping your pencil against your chin like you normally do when brainstorming, you try to think of something interesting you draw. Suddenly, you remember the flower peeking up in between the rocks on your school's track. You passed by it twice, so you have a pretty good idea of what it looked like, and it was so beautiful…
As if possessed by some kind of art demon, you pick up your favorite soft lead pencil and start sketching the basic design, adding in more and more stones around the lonely flower. It was small and white, with five little circular petals spread towards the sun, and a little smudge of light pink in the center, coming up in tiny lines through the center of each delicate, soft petal. Finally, you finish the sketch, and, since you still have 40 minutes left of class, you decide to add to it. You reach for your four favorite outlining markers, choosing a brush tip for the petals, a calligraphy-style C-tip for the rocks, and a basic .05 tip for the stem. After you erase any remaining pencil lines, you take a oil pastel in rose, and, after mixing it with a bit of white, smudge it onto the little flower. Finally, you take a black pencil and shade the rocks and petals, making it look as if the sun was shining just a little to the right of it.
Satisfied, you turn to look at the clock, to notice you still have ten minutes left of class. Well, I could add some writing to it, you think, and start to write. Just as you finish, a loud blare fills the air as the fire alarm goes off. The entire class, being well-trained in fire safety, slowly walks outside… to see actual flames engulfing the school.
Your complexion pales as you think about your sketchbook still in the classroom. That thing is more important to you than almost anything- it has the portraits of your late parents in it! Your body begins to move on its own, and you rush into the burning building, not listening to Mr. Beilschimdt's screams. By some miracle, you manage to reach the door before him, and slip inside. The smoke instantly starts to burn your throat, so you put your shirt over your mouth.
After picking up your notebook, you start to run back outside, but by this time fire has engulfed the hallway the way you came. You turn down the other way. "Help! Help!" you hear, coming from far away. You push yourself faster, heading towards the noise, to see a young girl, maybe four years old, next to her unconscious mother. "Please help me!" she yells holding her moms arm with a look of pure fear and desperation in her fire-lit eyes. Immediately, you slide the sketchbook into the backpack the woman's wearing, and lift her onto your back. Thank goodness she's light.
Grabbing the little one's hand, you realize that you can no longer put your shirt over your mouth, as you have to balance the woman with your other. Even though the smoke is burning your throat faster than the fire your flesh, you keep going, determined if nothing else to keep the mother and child safe. As a safety measure, you make sure the mother's mouth is covered with her shirt, and hold it in place like that with her body weight.
Finally, you see a speck of daylight, which grows steadily bigger and bigger until it turns into a door, which turns into a way out. If the situation were different, you would have smiled, but you're much too exhausted for that.
But just before you reach the door, a burning log comes down, crashing on your legs. You want to collapse right there, or at least look at the wound, but the girl comes first. Limping heavily, you pull the three of you out the door, into the bright sunshine.
You slowly slide the mother off your back, bend down, and pull out the sketchbook. Then, you turn to face the little girl, who has tears in her eyes. "Don't worry, dear," you say softly, rubbing her little head. "Your mommy will be okay. Here," You hold out the sketchbook. "Go look for this flower over on the track. You can give it to her when she gets better. She'll be so pleased."
Her eyes water as she holds the picture. Quickly, she jumps up and gives you a big hug. It takes all your strength not to let it knock you over, but you hold strong and hug her back. "Thank you missus," she whispers gratefully.
"I'm _," you reply, "Now run along and go find it; I bet your mom'll be waking up soon!" You smile happily as she runs off, but the second she's out of sight, you let out a smoke-filled cough and fall over.
Germany's POV
I've never seen anything like it. The girl who can't run a decent mile in gym class, saving people from a burning building? And at the risk of her own life, too.
She puts on a good act, smiling and hugging the little girl, then handing her something. She even manages to stay conscious long enough to make sure the girl won't see her collapse. But the second she's out of sight, she falls over, and I can see the full extent of her wounds.
"_!" I scream, running over to her. All the other students were already evacuated, but I stayed behind to make sure she wouldn't be alone if she somehow got out. The woman she helped, I can already tell, is fine. But she… I can't be sure. She must have covered the woman's mouth and not worried about her own. It shouldn't be that bad.
Then I notice her leg.
There's a foot-long gash on the outside of her right leg, surrounded by a second-degree burn on all sides. How she walked even a step on this, I will never know.
The rest of what I find is only minor ailments, thank goodness. Just as I finish, she slowly opens her eyes. "Mr. Beilschimdt?" she asks, looking confused. "W-where is everybody else?"
"They were all evacuated. But I can't move you; I'm going to call an ambulance."
"No!" she exclaims, grabbing my arm. "Please, no, you can't!"
"Why not?" I ask, not understanding. Who wouldn't want to go to a hospital in such a state.
"I-I… My family… we don't have any money… I live with my little brother, he's only five, and a neighbor watches him while I'm at school, but… my parents are dead. We can't pay for a trip to the hospital." Tears fill her eyes, and I realize just how much strength it must have taken her to run into that building if she had a little brother at home who needed her.
"When did you last eat?" I ask, putting down the phone.
She lowers her eyes and mumbles, "A few days ago I had something, I think. I give my brother most of the food. He's a growing boy, and needs it more."
"You can't just not eat!" I exclaim, "Ugh, you're coming to my house. I'll get you fixed up."
Her eyes widen. "Really, that's not necessary! What about my brother? What about the woman? What about that little girl?"
"I'll get them. But you're worst off. I'm putting you in my car now," I say. Then, seeing her look of protest, add, "Unless you want to sit out here while I call an ambulance?" She relents quickly after that, and I carry her to my car. After getting the woman and finding the child, who just found and picked some flower she saw in a sketch she was holding, I drop them off at the hospital, except _, who refuses to step foot outside the car.
After picking up her brother, they sit in the back, and she rubs his hair, whispering reassuring things to him as he cries about her injuries. Eventually, he falls asleep, and she sits looking out the window, seeming like she's about to cry.
You POV
You can't believe Mr. Beilschimdt is helping us. You didn't think he would, if he heard about your situation. Most people would call the government and have you taken away. Maybe even separated.
But could that be a better option? You can't keep providing for (brother's name), not without quitting school and working full-time. You hate feeling how light he is. You hate seeing how little he gets to eat. But he loves you so much… could he bear the separation?
"Should I be doing something else?" you whisper, mostly to yourself, but hoping Mr. Beilschimdt hears you. "Should I be sacrificing more?"
"It's hard to sacrifice more that you already have been," he replies.
"B-but should I be trying to find him a new home? Somewhere he can actually live?" you ask.
"Maybe… if you want him to grow up without his sister," he says.
Your eyelids start to feel heavy, but you're determined to finish the conversation. "What if… what if he starves to death? He deserves better than me."
"You just saved two people from certain death, and comforted a child in the process. What could be better than that?" he asks.
"Someone with the means to take care of their siblings," you reply. Why are you so tired? Maybe the strain and smoke are finally getting to you.
As you drift off, you hear him mumble something, but you're too far gone to make out the words…
Germany's POV
"You could stay with me," I suggest. There's no answer, and I get concerned. Then, looking back, I notice that _ is fast asleep, most likely worn out from the long day.
Soon, we reach my house and, after putting the two of them in the guest bedroom and tending to her injuries, I notice her sketchbook still sitting in the passenger seat of my car. Pulling it out, I notice it's open to a page with an extremely realistic-looking flower. I recognize it. It's the flower the girl pulled up on the track. _ must have seen it while she was running. Under it, there's some writing; beautiful, elegant cursive. It says:
Why can't I be more like this flower? It's strong, even though it's small, and beautiful. It needs only the Sun to live, and some rain. I wish I could survive on just that, so (brother's name) might live longer. He deserves to grow up like other kids, laughing, running around, going to the ice cream store… but he can't, and it's all my fault for being so depressed for so long after they died…
I stare at the page in shock. I can't believe this girl, who I always thought was just lazy like Feliciano, was actually dealing with so much. She never complained, always putting on a happy front so no one would find out about her. It's truly admirable; I've never met someone so selfless.
Before I know what I'm doing, I'm in their room, putting the sketchbook down on the nightstand. "I promise; I'll make everything better from now on," I say, moving some hair away from her sleeping face. I mean it; there's no way I'd ever let her go back to living like that.
She's 18, right? That means she's not a minor, and I don't have to adopt or anything. And it would be legal to marry her, if she was okay with it… what am I saying?! She's just going to be here for support, nothing more.
But still, the thought of it makes me want to smile… why?
Your POV
You wake up the next morning feeling quite a bit better, although you have a bit of trouble breathing and your leg stings really bad. There's a smell wafting in the open door from the kitchen, and, even though you can't place it, it makes you feel happy in a way you never thought you'd feel again.
"Good morning," you mumble, rubbing your eyes as you limp into the kitchen. (brother's name)'s face lights up and he yells, "_! Look! Mr. Ludwig maked us pam-cakes! They yummy!"
You chuckle at his adorable face; smothered in syrup with a giant grin lighting it up. "I forgot you never had pancakes before…" you mumble, and suddenly feel a bit like crying when you remember why.
"I made some for you, too," Mr. Beilschmidt says from over by the stove.
"Oh, um, thank you, Mr. Beilschmidt," you say shyly, unused to being taken care of.
"Just Ludwig's fine," he replies.
"T-thank you, Ludwig," you amend, taking a plate stacked high with pancakes.
"Anytime," he responds.
Your face lights up from the first bite; it's been so long since you've had anything this good! By the time you're finished, you're too full to eat another bite, but still want more. "That was amazing!" you exclaim. Then your face darkens. "Um… I guess we should be going now, huh? I feel better, and you've already been so kind to us… come on, (brother's name). Say goodbye."
"No!" he exclaims, trying to pull you back down as you stand up. "I don' wanna go! Mr. Ludwig's nice an' gives me pam-cakes! We have to stay!"
You bend down, tears swimming in your eyes. "I know sweetie, I know. But Mr. Ludwig needs to go back to his routine now. Don't worry, in a week or two high school will be over and I can get a job. We'll have a better life, don't worry." You try to make it sound like you believe it, but your eyes probably give you away.
"Um," Ludwig interrupts, standing awkwardly by the table. "Y-you can stay here, you know. I really don't mind and since you'll be graduating next week anyway it doesn't really matter, right?"
Your eyes widen as you stare at him blushing lightly and looking everywhere but your eyes. After a second, you ask, "R-really? You mean it?" He nods. You look from (brother's name), to Ludwig, back to (brother's name). They both look eager and excited; almost identical expressions. "Well then I guess we're staying," you mumble softly, staring at the floor to hide your small smile. (brother's name) cheers and gives your legs a big hug, almost knocking you over. Ludwig smiles; it's the first time you've ever seen him happy like that. He looks a lot better smiling, and you, for some reason, want to smile back.
"Just one thing," he says abruptly. You look at him questioningly. "My brother comes home on the weekends. You'll have to be able to deal with him." You raise your eyebrows. How bad could his brother be?
FAMOUS LAST WORDS! :D
Hi! I'ts applechan53! I was working on Past Recount, (and got everything done but the editing for the next chapter, mind you) and this came out of the depths of my brain.
I'll be continuing this, but there'll only be a couple more chapters. After this, though, I have an AWESOME idea for a Russia x Reader, so...
Oh, and did I mention this is my first "x reader" story, so go me for being able to do this! Maybe... tell me if I failed...
I don't know why I decided to do Germany for this one. He's not even one of my favorite characters. But what the heck. Russia, however, IS one of my favorite characters, so the next one should make more sense...
Well... I hope you enjoyed it! And I have a bunch of free time today, so I may even get another chapter up before the end of the day... my life is sad...
Ja, mata! (And not "Ja" is NOT German for yes in this case! :T) (-_-)7