Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia
I Promised
Chapter 1: 7 Days Since
The unsteady beeping of the heart monitor was going to drive Ludwig insane. He listened for his friend's breathing, each rattled inhale and exhale a sign that he was still alive. He couldn't stand to see Feliciano so bruised and pale.
A heavyset woman in bubblegum pink scrubs bustled in, checking her patient's vitals and interrupting Ludwig's brooding. "How do you feel today, Mr. Beilschmidt?"
"Fine," was his empty reply. The nurse had seen him here every day for the past week, and the broad-shouldered blond most certainly did not look fine to her.
"Y'know, you could always go home for a meal. Mr. Vargas will be right here when you get back."
Ludwig didn't answer right away. He knew better than to believe empty promises from an optimistic health professional. "Nein, I have to keep him company. He panics when he's left alone."
"His brother visits oft-"
"I don't see him here." Ludwig looked up at the woman, ice blue eyes daring her to try again. But she did't bite. Instead, she replenished her patient's supply of morphine and left. Ludwig was thankful for her absence. He knew she was doing her best, but her cheerfulness kept him on edge. It was as though she wasn't treating dozens of dying people. His dying friend. The tall man was so lost in thought that he didn't notice two brunettes enter the ward.
"You're still here, Potato Bastard?" Lovino Vargas walked up to the bed, followed by his curly-haired boyfriend, Antonio.
"Well," the German accused in his thick accent, "you weren't around. Someone has to stay with him."
"I'm here now, aren't I, bastardo? You think you can just waltz in here and tell me how to deal with this? Mio fratello is dying!" Lovino's voice rose, cracking on that last word. Antonio put a warning hand on his shoulder.
"Lovi, we have to be quiet, remember? He needs all the sleep he can get, pobrecito." The usually animated Spanaird spoke softly, as though all his energy was drained. It was; he was up with Lovino all night, holding his shaking form as he cried for his little brother.
Ludwig stood, wishing to avoid an argument right in the middle of the ICU. He shuffled out to the hallway and took a seat on a cold plastic chair. He lowered his head into his hands, fighting to keep his tired eyes open. While he couldn't decide if the scene before him or the images behind his eyelids were worse, he knew the one with less blood would be easier to stomach. If there is a God, he mused, he's doing a shitty job.
Translations:
Bastardo- bastard
Mio fratello - my brother
Pobrecito - poor thing
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