I haven't written any fanfiction in years, and I never update any of my fanfics anymore. I'm sorry, I'm such an inconsistent writer.
I'll stick to one-shots for now until I get my groove back on.
I own nothing but the plotline for this story.
1. Live.
The warm sunshine splashes our faces with its radiant glow, and the red from the tomato garden contrasts with the dominant green foliage.
Beads of sweat trickle down our faces, and the mud has crusted beneath our feet.
"For the love of Fritz, are we done yet?" You complain, fiddling with the tomatoes in your basket.
"Shut up! You know its harvest season so of course this will take long. Goddammit, it's not like I asked for you help anyway."
You pout, muttering at how "unawesome" it is that we're both harvesting instead of banging.
(Honestly, it's as if we don't do it every day.)
"Oi Lovino, check this out!" You call out as I busily inspect another tomato patch.
With an annoyed sigh, I turn to you.
"Move over silicon, tomato implants are the new shit!" You grin, fondling your now tomato-infused chest.
We never finished harvesting.
2. Smile.
"That… That fucker! It's not like it's my fault… that our fucking economy isn't booming like… like… shit!" I babble, the sloshing ruby liquid in my wine glass nearly disappearing.
The pains of being a nation. Your country is going down the road of Greece and Spain then suddenly the entire thing is your fault. Not the president, not the prime minister, not the government, it's your fault.
"Well excuse me… for not being like grandpa… Or Feliciano…" I hiccup, the tears suddenly falling. Shit, I hate it when this happens.
You listen intently, with your beer in hand, barely touched.
Then you suddenly get up.
"Government? Law? To hell with that, let's party!"
"Women? Oh shit, gotta have me more women."
"Our money thou art in my pocket, fuck what other people need…"
Your words unfold, your arms in frantic waving and your face wrinkled in a ridiculous attempt to impersonate my "beloved" boss*.
Before I even knew it, the blubbering mess that I was had slowly turned into a laughing and crying idiot.
I forgot why I was even drinking.
3. Feel.
"Hey, what would you do if I disappeared?"
Our arms are entangled in a warm embrace; our bodies sprawled in the soft linen of our bed.
My head against your chest, the rhythmic music of your heart fills the gaps of silence in the room.
It was an innocent question, devoid of anything malicious or perverted than your usual ones.
"I'll fucking kick your ass before that happens." I muttered my head not even bothering to look up and see the melancholic look in your eyes.
"Besides, your brain's too full of potatoes and horseshit to even have the ability to disappear."
A soft chuckle.
"You mean too full of awesome and badassery to disappear." you grin, gently caressing my back and making soothing circles.
I snort.
"Hey you know what else I can make disappear?"
"What?"
"My wurst."
You get out of the bed laughing before I could kick you out.
4. Move.
"…So the Germans started stealing the potatoes from Old Fritz' palace and the guards didn't care because it was all part of his plan so no one would go hungry! Pretty smart eh? Right? Right?" You beamed, as if you had just told the best story* in the world.
"Huh. Yeah, pretty smart. But your potatoes still suck." I said nonchalantly, as we walked around the lavish forestry and monuments in Sanssouci Park.
You always did love going there, especially during the summer*.
You continued babbling on about your Old Fritz for the next hour, your hand entwined in mine (because you said you'd treat me to anywhere I wanted after, dammit).
Then you stopped.
I never noticed how you were breathing heavily while we were walking earlier.
Why didn't you say something, bastard?
"Hey Lovi, can we stop and cool off for a sec?" You grinned, your face now flushing red from the long walk.
"Tch, talk about not living up to your "awesome" stamina" I spat, sitting down on the bench anyway. You give me a dirty look which suddenly turned into a sly one.
"Yeah, well at least I don't finish after 10 minutes." you smirked, then started to laugh with that idiotic laugh of yours. I was about to punch the living day lights out of you when you covered your mouth with your hands and started coughing into a fit.
"O-oi Gilbert! Are you okay? Dammit, you don't have to push yourself too hard." I said, worry evident in my tone. You continue coughing as I continuously rub your back in an attempt to alleviate it.
"Aw, is Lovino actually worried about me?" You grin, still coughing in between those words as I turn a bright red.
"B-bastard, it'd just be bothersome if I had to carry your sorry ass back to Berlin." I scoffed as you continued giggling and coughing in between.
I never saw the blood that was splattered on your palms.
5. Stop.
It has been a hundred years since the fall of the Berlin Wall and the tales of your empire and ancestors have been dimmed down to brief mentions on the words of their predecessors.
Slowly, your cursed fate had been moving towards every nations dreamed destination.
From the moment of our birth, we have been thrust upon with a fate irremovable.
We do not have a mother, nor do we have a father. And if we did, they would have been dead before we even realized we had one. And this fate that we have is such a cursed fate.
We live. And we… live.
Continuously and unceasingly.
To die is but a wish, placed upon our lips at the moment we witness the catch of our immortality.
Yet as I watched the glimmer of your crimson eyes slowly start to dull, I replaced my wish with a prayer.
You are cradled in my arms, the tears consuming my eyes and my sobs resounding throughout the room.
"Hey now… Don't cry. You look like shit when you do." You smile weakly, your breath becoming nonexistent with every passing word.
"The only one… who looks like shit here… is you." I shot back, my arms never leaving you.
"Yeah, but I'm your shit." You grin, in a sorry attempt to make me smile.
And I try to, for you, but the pain in my chest had become too suffocating that all I can manage is an indecipherable sound.
Your breathing has now become more labored, and your skin slowly becoming translucent. It is almost as if I am holding nothing in my arms which causes me to grip at you more tightly.
"I'm sorry… for everything…"
I shake my head vigorously.
"You bastard! What the hell do you have to be sorry for?!" A choke. "I should be the one who should be sorry… That I can't join you-"
"Don't you fucking start with that Lovino. Don't you fucking dare." You growl, your hand now gripping at mine. I can barely even feel it.
"The last eighty years… fuck, they've been the most amazing years of my life. And you know why right?" He looks at me with his rusty eyes.
"Because you were there." Fuck, I can barely even see him anymore. "And every time… I think of the rest of my life before those eighty years… I feel like kicking myself on the crotch because… why the hell did I never bother getting in your pants?!" You laugh as heartily as you could.
Then it subsides.
Your voice is nearly a whisper.
"Ich… Ich liebe dich…Lovino." You smile sadly. "Forever… and a day." Your translucent hand was now on my face, your thumb trying to wipe off my tears.
"A-Anch'io…Ti Amo…Gilbert." My forehead now against yours.
You tilt your head slightly, closing the distance between us and capture my lips with yours.
Then,
The world stopped.
Solace.
There is a silent whisper murmuring through the walls.
The room, once a color of vivid red, has dulled into a hue of rusting blood.
I smell the musky scent of wilted leaves and stale alcohol, overpowering the perfume wafting from the luscious blue cornflowers* in my arms.
I place the bouquet in the fireplace, now an altar for wilted flowers.
Then, I leave.
Hey Gilbert.
How are you doing up there?
Notes:
*Silvio Berlusconi was the former prime minister of Italy. He was known for squandering the wealth of Italy, throwing lavish parties as well as being a womanizer. Based on what I've read, he wasn't exactly the most beloved prime minister.
**There was a time in history when the Germans were undergoing through a lot of hunger and so Frederick the Great (aka Old Fritz) gave them potatoes but they didn't want to eat it because it came from the ground. So what he did was he grew a crop and had soldiers guarding the crop. The people thought it was something special so they stole from the crop. Old Fritz told the guards to turn a blind eye on it. The Germans did not starve that winter.
***Sanssouci was the former summer palace of Old Fritz. It is located in Potsdam, Germany.
****Cornflowers are the national flower of Germany.
Ich liebe dich (German) – I love you.
Anch'io Ti Amo (Italian) – I love you too.
This pairing seriously needs more love.