Title: Three people that may have loved Elizabeta, and the things they think of that trouble them the most
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters: Hungary/Austria, Hungary/Poland, Hungary/Prussia
1. Feelings of inadequacy
"You don't deserve her."
It's Gilbert who says this, with his callous bravado, his barely hidden disdain, but it's said quietly, and for the first time in a long time, Roderich can't pretend he isn't serious. It would be beneath him to pretend that this isn't Gilbert's truth.
"You'll never deserve her," Gilbert continues, as Roderich adds a sugar cube to his tea, hovers above the cup and traces the rim with feigned disinterest.
"I know," Roderich says, keeping his eyes closed, and if he were more expressive he would say, but there's no sin in feeling love. "Is that so wrong?"
Gilbert looks thoughtful, apprehensive, almost. He extends a hand over the table and touches Roderich's cheek, where a barely visible scar still heals. A wound from a past lover, and she was always so strong, so reckless beneath the modesty.
Don't make her cry. The words falter in his mouth and folds in itself. The truth is, it's Roderich who will be more susceptible to the regret that never amounts to anything, the grief that never heals. Elizabeta would cry and it would break Roderich's heart, Gilbert's heart, Feliks' heart. Roderich would never cry and it would be incomparable to the weightlessness afterwards, to the depth of Elizabeta's own feeling.
"You could always try," Gilbert concedes, clenching his fingers into a fist and suddenly feeling something akin to sadness, but it's impossible. He has no time to waste for melancholy, no ounce of humanity to spare for it. "But don't think it'll be easy to love her the way you want to forever."
"Like the way you do, you mean?" Roderich says, taking a sip from his cup. Needs more sugar, she would say, and linger, looking like she'd rather kiss the corner of his mouth. It's a self-destructive method, after all. "I'll take my chances."
"Ingrate," Gilbert says, lazy smile, teeth showing - still insulting, all the same.
2. Feelings of loneliness
Hi, Feliks? Sorry I couldn't drop by this afternoon. I might pull an all-nighter for a meeting with my new boss for this one. Sorry if I can't be with you on your day off. I'll see you again next month, if you're still free by then. Take care of yourself, and don't tease Toris too much again, okay? And don't change the lightbulb again, you know I worry about you. Please don't even think about mobilizing your people just to change your lightbulbs. I-
Beep.
"I want to see you," Feliks says, fingers hovering above the 'delete' button, but there's no response.
The hardest part about love isn't acquiring it, after all. It's keeping it alive.
3. Feelings of rejection
He doesn't ask her to dance because he doesn't 'roll that way', or whatever the young kids are calling it nowadays. Instead, he drapes his arm around her waist, steering her away from the German diplomat and the punchbowl. She looks surprised, and a little offended, but he distracts her with a playful bump against her hip, the closest to an invitation he can get.
"A married woman doesn't dance with other men. It's improper," Elizabeta says, primly, but there's still the challenge in her smirk.
"You aren't married anymore," Gilbert says. "Find a new excuse."
His fingers linger on Elizabeta's skin. Elizabeta pauses, and moves to the side.
"Sorry, I don't dance," Elizabeta says, well said, well practiced, and even if Gilbert's said the same lie himself, it still doesn't assuage the guilt.
He doesn't call her out for the lie.