Small little tiny TINY fic I burped out a couple of days ago.
Hating Roderich
He hated Roderich
Everyone knew he did, it was as common as saying the sky was blue.
Roderich hated him, that he was quite sure of.
It was plain to see that he did, Roderich always yelled at him.
He hated the way that Roderich would still hold an air of royalty, even when they were crawling in the mud training for combat.
He was for sure Roderich hated the little yellow chick he had brought in when they had found it on the side of the road. Even if he had helped name it Gilbird.
He hated the way Roderich would get steak and potatoes, when the rest of them would swear that the slop on there trays moved.
He knew Roderich hated it when he took his glasses from him and lifted them high into the air where he couldn't reach.
He hated it when Roderich was right which was nearly all the time.
He was told that Roderich hated it when he called him Roddy.
He hated how his own girlfriend Eli thought Roderich was cute.
He knew Roderich hated her advances.
He hated that he loved it when Roderich would play that small electric piano from home.
He knew that Roderich hated that he enjoyed it when he would pat him on the back and say good job.
He hated it when they were sent on that charge against the enemy.
He knew that Roderich hated it to.
He hated how that guy shot him three times in the chest while he was protecting Roderich.
He saw how Roderich hated the man for doing that.
He hated the man even more when he shot Roderich five times.
He knew Roderich hated it when he held his hand tightly.
But maybe just maybe Roderich didn't hate him.
He hated how he would never see his brother, his dogs, his Gilbird or his beautiful girlfriend again.
But on this bloody battle field holding Roderich's hand he was at peace.
He didn't hate Roderich.
...
That was the last thought of Gilbert Beilschmidt, age nineteen, before death claimed him.
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