I was listening to the English dub of Rolling Girl. And apparently the only time I can write long stores is when it's based on a song, because I wrote six pages (well, it was a tiny notebook) of this. Oh well, Geometry is boring anyways. So you get PruCan acquaintance-ness because haha this doesn't even read like anything else. *dies*
Oh, and this is a kinda-AU so they go by human names and live in a fantastically diverse town or something.
OH SNAP I FIGURED OUT PAGE BREAKS. *rejoices* And all it took was a crappy story. ;U;
After the dissolution of his country, Gilbert had doubts whether he was alive or not. Prussia was dead, so why wasn't he? Gilbert walked around town in a daze, staring at his hand, clenching and unclenching a fist. No one in the town spoke to him, for obvious reasons. The albino oozed an aura of distance and angry melancholy.
Gilbert probably would have continued meandering throughout town and the nearby forest he was currently in, had he not tripped and tumbled down a small cliff.
He lay panting at the bottom, feeling the bruises begin to form on his arms and forehead. The Prussian grinned. Dead people couldn't get hurt. Dead people couldn't bleed. Gilbert laughed, stood up, and made his way back to his town.
o
For the past month, each day had seen Gilbert sporting some new injury. He would get into fights, do God knows what, and in the end he would have a black eye or bloodied nose from it. By now, mostly everyone was used to it, except for the blond Canadian who worked at the cafe near the center of town. Every time Matthew saw Gilbert with yet another injury, he would escort Gilbert to his apartment and treat any visible wounds.
And today was no different. Gilbert had a large cut down his cheek, and Matthew saw him walking down the street. He escorted Gilbert back to his apartment, sat him on the black couch that took up most of his living room, and began dabbing antiseptic on the wound.
They sat in silence, avoiding each other's eyes until Matthew stood abruptly, placed the bottle on the nearby table and said "Are you ready yet?"
Are you ready yet? Gilbert raised his head to face Matthew, but his eyes were looking at a point in the distance. Are you ready to stop doing this to yourself? And to me? Matthew's voice echoed around Gilbert's head as he stared beyond the apartment walls. Gilbert turned abruptly and moved toward the door. "Not yet." And the door slammed shut after him.
Matthew was left standing, watching the door long after Gilbert had left.
The next day, Gilbert was injured again, and again Matthew took him and treated his wounds, asking no more questions. Before he leaves Matthew's apartment, Gilbert says, more to himself than to Matthew, "It's not a problem. I don't give a damn."
Three Tuesdays later, and no one had seen Gilbert for two days, until his unconscious body was dumped unceremoniously outside Matthew's door and left there. Matthew discovered him a two o' clock in the morning, when his relatively small polar bear woke him up, asking to be let out. Matthew sleepily meandered his way to the door, and opened it. Kumajiro jumped neatly over Gilbert's comatose body, as Matthew started and promptly forgot about his pet in favor of worrying about Gilbert. Trying to get over the miniature heart attack he had just had, Matthew grabbed Gilbert around the chest and dragged him into the apartment, depositing him face-up on the couch.
Gilbert had a black eye, numerous cuts and scrapes, and a bleeding, possibly broken, nose. And that was just his face. His clothing was ripped, and most of the skin showing had more bruises and cuts. As soon as Matthew was sure Gilbert was actually alive, he felt it was the appropriate time to panic a little. He hopped anxiously from one foot to the other, chewing on the end of his finger, before turing and running to the bathroom in search of his first aid kit. Matthew ran back into his miniscule living room holding a small grocery bag full of disorganized bandages and hydrogen peroxide.
Matthew tended to Gilbert's face first, checking for a pulse every so often because Matthew was terrified that Gilbert would somehow die before waking. He treated Gilbert's face as quickly as he could, before removing Gilbert's shirt and inspecting his arms and chest. Matthew was greeted by small wounds around Gilbert' shoulders and a large, old scar spanning his chest over his heart. Matthew couldn't do anything about the scar, and so concentrated on making sure the open wounds were clean, using up almost all of his antiseptic doing so.
The next problem presented itself in the form of Matthew's inherent shyness and Gilbert's pants. Matthew could see at least one injury he should bandage, but it would require removing. Gil's. Pants. This was A, highly embarrassing for Matthew to be stripping a friend, and B, it would be rather awkward if Gilbert woke up (which he probably wouldn't but...).
Matthew sighed. Today was not his day.
He remained a flushed shade of red as he tried to inch Gilbert's pants off while simultaneously trying to move the other as little as possible. He heaved a sigh when the pants were folded neatly with the rest of the clothes and Gilbert was either still unconscious or had transmissioned into sleep. Matthew bandaged Gilbert's legs trying to keep his eyes anywhere but the albino, which was proving difficult, as it's hard to effectively wrap and clip a bandage while not looking at what you're doing.
The task did get accomplished, and now the only thing left to do was to wait for Gilbert to wake up (and probably ask for food). Matthew rested his hand on Gilbert's chest, talking a final check that the heartbeat was still there. The rhythmic beating calmed Matthew, and he found himself kneeling next to the couch with his head resting in Gilbert's elbow. He had no idea how he got in that position without realizing it, but he wrote it off as exhaustion. It was close to three in the morning, and he was tired. Matthew was probably asleep before his eyes even closed.
He woke slowly. It was bright, and his back hurt from whatever odd position he had slept in. Matthew could feel a hand on his head, fingers playing with his hair for lack of anything better to do. Matthew mumbled something, remembering why he was sleeping in his living room and whose arm he was currently laying on. He looked up to meet half-open red eyes staring at him.
"'Ello, Birdie. M' arm was falling asleep." Gilbert mumbled, laughing quietly, still half-asleep himself. He remembered the question Matthew had asked him about a month ago. Are you ready yet? He had been thinking about that. Gilbert pulled Matthew's head closer to his. "M' ready now." Matthew grinned, understanding, and flung an arm around Gilbert's neck in a lopsided hug. The albino laughed. "You must be so sick and tired of this." He waved a hand indicating the bandages, a gesture which went unnoticed as Matthew had his head pressing into Gilbert's shoulder and wasn't likely to move.
hosnap this whole thing is only ~1,000 words. :C THIS IS EXPERIMENTAL, HATING EVERYTHING SHE WRITES HAHAHA. I was trying so hard not to use their country names you have no idea. Reviews are the best thing ever. Especially if you want me to continue this. (Experimental doing anything with not-oneshots? Unheard of.) anyways, I dislike the fact you can't use tabs or use hyphens to separate for time jumps. *punches in the face*
