So, this is my first public work on the FanFiction website... Not to mention my first time writing anything about Hetalia. Forgive me if the characterization is a bit rough, it'll get better as I publish more works.
Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome, but please be nice about your opinion.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers or any of its characters. They belong to Himaruya Hidekaz as well as any other respective publishers.
Germany stared up at the bedroom ceiling from his perch on the worn mattress. Moonlight filtered through the only window in the room. The soft silver shine illuminated the darkened room and contrasted greatly with the regular, harsh golden rays of the sun. The only sounds throughout the otherwise silent night were the ticking of the wall clock and the chirping of the crickets outside. It was a perfect night to sleep through. And yet, despite a tiring day filled with towering paperwork stacks and grueling training, he could not bring himself to grow tired and fall asleep.
And to top off his unending exhaustion, Germany's temple was throbbing with a migraine that soon had spread throughout his entire head and left him with no small amount of discomfort.
His boss's impossible demands and unreasonable personality had left Germany flailing for a firm handhold throughout this entire tiresome charade that was the war. Every day, new stacks of paperwork seemed to find themselves scattered on Germany's desk. And Germany, being incredibly stubborn and determined, was loathe to cancel daily training simply because of his own fatigue.
He could feel his people's tension and discomfort every second of the day. He had learned to ignore it, but sometimes it centered in the pit of his stomach or at the back of his head. It was even worse at night, when he had nothing to focus on that could bring him away from it.
And though all of these things existed and pulled the nation even deeper into the pit of weariness, Germany could not bring himself to shut his eyes.
Chagrined, he had resorted to attempting to find a better position in which to sleep in. His reasoning of course being that doing something was better than doing nothing.
But in reality, his tossing and turning seemed to worsen his weariness rather than cure it. As a result, the blanket had to find a good position as well. He had sometimes wrapped the blanket over himself, spread it under himself, or even, in a fit of desperation, thrown it off the bed altogether. But even if Germany miraculously found a comfortable position that didn't involve the comforter, it couldn't stay on the floor for long as the country's legs soon turned numb from the cold of the harsh German winter.
At last he settled on an arrangement.
Glaring at the uninteresting beige wall through half-lidded eyes, the nation spirit lay on his side with one hand tucked underneath his pillow.
Perhaps, he thought drily to himself, I'll have better luck with this position. Not like I'm expecting much, anyway.
And, well, he didn't.
Germany sighed deeply and glanced at the wall clock ticking away above the bedroom door. 11:43 PM, it read.
He had already slipped into bed by 9, so therefore he had been awake for more than two hours straight. After the brief calculation, Germany turned back towards the wall and resumed counting the spots of paint. He resigned himself to waiting until dawn broke. Hopefully, he would still have retained enough energy from the previous day to stop himself from outright passing out the next.
After the 1,023rd dot, Germany's mind had drifted towards the more somber things that would occupy one's mind during the wee hours of the morning. Before long he had drowned himself in the depressingly terrifying thoughts that all nation spirits eventually wondered about. They didn't faze Germany nearly as much as they might have at the start of his life as a country, but despite his years of experience they still sometimes sent tendrils of dread slithering up his spine.
Germany was brought back to the harsh reality of his pounding headache when he felt a sudden jolt in the mattress. He could feel pressure being applied on the other side of the bed, and his heart immediately raced.
He swore to himself under his breath. His senses muddled by lack of sleep, he had not even noticed anybody sneaking into his bedroom. Germany's stomach lurched at the thought that he might have been assassinated right there and then, if the assassin had been more competent and hadn't waited. He could think of a thousand ways he could have gone out that night, none the least of which included pipes and/or glistening daggers. He would have had some explaining to do, suddenly materializing in front of his boss in the middle of the night.
Now that had made for some pretty awkward situations.
Germany would have been embarrassed further by the admittance that he had been killed simply because he hadn't paid enough attention to his surroundings. What a joke he would be, the 'oh-so-powerful warmonger' that had been murdered in his sleep. The nation who supposedly possessed more military experience than any other, brought down without a fight like some sort of sissy. Like Poland, to be specific.
No, he wouldn't tolerate that.
Like an imaginary fire had sparked inside his head, Germany suddenly remembered the life-threatening situation he was trapped in. He sat up in his bed like a firework, fiercely backhanding his surprise attacker smack across the face. He wasn't exactly sure where he had hit, but he hoped it was enough to momentarily stun the enemy while he got his bearings.
However, before Germany could take a closer look at the assassin's face, they dove under the covers yelping with a hand across their nose.
It was a he, Germany realized, as more whimpers emerged from the quivering mound of blankets.
Upon closer inspection of the strangely familiar voice, he too recognized that it was Italy who had supposedly 'attacked' him. What a way to embarass himself. He immediately scowled, the familiar expression probably ingrained into Italy's mind by now.
Germany took several deep breaths through his nose. In and out. Despite his calming efforts the relentless migraine seemed to intensify. He could already feel the annoyance simmering inside him like a pot of poorly stirred stew.
Take an aspirin later, he noted down mentally.
"Italy," he hissed through clenched teeth. "What are you doing in my bed? And at this time of night?" He was incredibly pissed off, and, if he bothered to admit it to himself, worried. Italy had gone to bed even earlier than him, as was his custom, so who knew how long he had been up for.
It was a few moments before the smaller nation deigned to reply.
"I-I figured that since Germany is so nice, he wouldn't mind if I slept in his bed tonight..?" Italy squeaked in his familiar high-pitched tone, a nervous smile spreading across his face.
"Yes, I know that!" Germany snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. His voice had softened a bit, and Germany knew that his fatigue shone through the thin statement, weaved under the overtones of authority and hardness. "But, in case you haven't noticed, my bed isn't the only one in the house."
If he was being honest, he was mortified with himself. Germany couldn't bear to think of what might have happened if the mystery figure had actually been someone like England or China. He would have been left splayed on the sheets, bleeding out from his neck as the Allied nation stole quietly back into the night. The whole world would never have taken Germany seriously after that. Even after a few centuries had pased, China was probably still going to remember and tease him for it.
And who knows what would have happened if-Germany shuddered involuntarily-France had been the one to sneak up on him.
Italy was strangely quiet. Upon closer inspection, he seemed to be having an internal battle with himself. He looked like he was having second thoughts about sneaking into Germany's room.
Said nation raised an eyebrow, but didn't push the other country. From personal experience, he knew the worst way to make someone talk willingly was to force them.
Hah, a voice at the back of his head sneered. Look who's talking! Why don't you tell that to your own soldiers, general.
He grimaced slightly after hearing the mental comment, but decided to ignore it for the moment.
After a few moments of hesitation, Italy finally confessed. "I... I've been having night terrors lately, Germany. I've tried to ignore them for a while now but they've been getting worse..! Sometimes they even bother me during the day and I don't know what to do." Italy's voice was unusually soft, barely above a whisper. It was so different from his normal high-pitched whines that the taller country had to strain to catch any of it.
Italy continued, voice even quieter than before. "And the only time they disappear is when I'm around you."
Germany inhaled sharply in surprise. After composing himself, he decided to ignore that last sentence.
Italy's voice picked up its usual volume once more, but there was something forced within the happy manner that the smaller country talked in.
"So, I thought that if I slept in your bed tonight, they might disappear! Clever, no?"
Germany couldn't imagine how long the terrors had been going on for. Under normal circumstances Italy would have informed him of the nightmares as soon as they had started.
The fact that he hadn't worried Germany greatly.
Just what kind of things happen in those nightmares?
"Italy..." Germany pried. "What exactly goes on inside those dreams of yours?"
Italy's bright grin slipped off once again, replaced by a brooding expression. Again, he did not speak for over a minute. Over a whole minute. Italy only shook his head mutely after.
Germany couldn't imagine the happy-go-lucky individual sitting in front of him going through any traumatic situation. And going through something that had the potential to serve as nightmare fuel? Impossible!
But Germany knew better. Any other nation would have thought that these rare instances when Italy was somber were just abnormalities. However, Germany knew Italy wasn't like that. Whenever Italy strayed into more serious territory during his carefree ranting, he would suddenly break off during the middle of his sentences. He would then stay silent for minutes, maybe hours afterwards. One or two times, he had remained quiet for the whole day!
Needless to say, Germany had been greatly alarmed by that occurence the first time it happened.
After the awkward silence(usually nonexistent because of Italy's regular yammering) between the two nations had extended for too long, Germany cleared his throat loudly. As the pasta-loving country refused to say anymore, he decided that they should just go to bed.
"Well, come on then, Italy. You did say you could only sleep well around me." Germany said gruffly, suddenly finding the blanket underneath him very interesting.
Italy immediately brightened at the statement.
"Wow, really Germany? Ve~!" He exclaimed loudly, all previous silence forgotten.
"But!" Germany interrupted sharply, pointer finger a centimeter from Italy's nose. "You must promise to remain quiet. I already have a throbbing headache and I don't need you worsening it with your antics!"
It's only for tonight, Germany reasoned with himself. Besides, he still need enough energy to be able to train tomorrow. It's totally not like I'm worried about his wellbeing or anything. Pshhh.
But, to Germany's surprise, he found that his previous threat was obsolete. The migraine had all but disappeared during his conversation with Italy.
The country in question was snuggled comfortably under the blanket, and had pulled it all the way up to his chin. Germany watched with slight disappointment. That would mean less blanket for himself.
But he didn't dwell on it for long, for soon he too was nestled under the covers.
As soon as the smaller nation's head had touched the pillow he was snoring softly. He certainly didn't look like he was constantly plagued with nightmares. Germany figured they were filled with the dying screams of his people, bullets whizzing through the air like demented dragonflies while bombs fell to the ground, tearing away thousands of innocent lives like a a scythe felled leaves of corn. Maybe all the buildings were levelled dumps, merely pitiful husks of their former beauty. Maybe the sky was a blood red that dulled to a dark orange as it neared the horizon. Maybe the sun was always blotted out by the wafting collumns of smoke that seemed to permeate everything, forcing itself down his soldiers' throats as they fought a losing battle, as they were shot down, one by one, like can pyramids in a carnival sideshow.
But then again, the nightmares might might have been caused by something entirely different altogether. He didn't know.
Because, Germany supposed, not every country's night terrors would be exactly like his, would they?
He held on to this thought as his eyelids grew heavy, the hypnotic breathing of his friend and ally lulling him into the caressing grasp of sleep.