In These Waking Nights
I
Spain awoke.
He knew he was awake, but he couldn't move and there was something in the room with him. There was something and he knew it. But he couldn't move, he couldn't breathe. In a corner of the room he saw it move, shifting, approaching.
And he couldn't breathe. He couldn't move even as he felt it climbing on the edge of the bed towards him.
Stop! Stop! Go away! He cried out in his sleep, but his mouth would not move. He screamed, trying to get away as something pressed over his chest, hands around his throat.
He blinked, and sat up in his bed. Whatever had been there was gone, but he still turned on the lamp on the bedside dresser.
He touched his throat with trembling fingers and got out of bed to the bathroom, turning on every light. The one in his room, in the hallway, in the bathroom…
He couldn't stop his hands from trembling.
There were no marks in his throat, so he took off his shirt and checked his chest. Nothing.
He took a few deep breaths and put his shirt back on. The house seemed suddenly much colder to him.
"Ah, joder…(Ah, fuck…)" he muttered, walking back to his room. There were no signs of anything ever being there, but he still checked everywhere, and even opened the closet doors.
There was no way he was going back to sleep, so he took a blanket and went to the living room, where he turned on the tv along with every light. The clock on the wall above the tv told him it was three in the morning. Three thirty three in fact, and Spain could remember a few stories about that hour.
He sighed and resigned himself to watching a movie for the rest of the night.
II
The next morning, Romano knocked on the door to Spain's apartment. He was carrying a container with lasagna for lunch, as Spain had been whining about how much he wanted some the last time they saw each other.
"Open up you bastard!" he said, and huffed. Finally he gave up and maneuvered awkwardly to hold the container with one arm and take out his keys to Spain's apartment with the other. "I swear, if you're drunk somewhere with France and Prussia, there'll be hell to pay," he muttered, opening the door. Inside, every single light was on. He left the container in the dinner table and turned off the light from the dining room. This was too strange, and he didn't know whether to call out for Spain or not. Surely he would have heard him by now?
He heard a noise from the living room and walked there cautiously, almost holding his breath.
Lying awkwardly on the couch with a blanket half on him and the tv still on was Spain still asleep. In the tv, an old bald man talked about the bleakness of the stock market.
Romano growled. He grabbed a pillow from the other couch and hit Spain in the head with it.
"Spain you bastard!" he yelled at him. Spain jumped off the couch with a terrified look on his face.
"W-what?!"
"I've been knocking on the goddamn door! What is wrong with you? Why is every light on?" he asked. Spain just stood there, pale, and looking at him as if he didn't recognize him. "Spain? Are you alright?"
"Ah, ah…Roma!" he smiled brightly and let go of the blanket to hug him. "Sorry! Sorry Romano! I fell asleep watching a movie."
Romano pushed him away. "So you stayed there all night? You're going to get a cold!"
Spain just smiled, and before Romano could move, kissed him on the lips.
Romano blushed so bad, he felt his face burning. "Stop that you idiot!"
"Aw, you're so cute when you're flustered Roma!"
Romano slapped him playfully and looked away before Spain could see him smile. "Go get changed already! It's almost noon!"
"Hmm? Noon?" wondered Spain, scratching his head. He looked at the clock above the tv with an oddly serious look.
"Is everything really alright Spain?" asked Romano. The serious look on Spain's face vanished, and he smiled at Romano.
"Yes, of course. I'm going to go take a shower now," he said, and walked to his room. Romano noticed that even the lights of the hall and all the rooms were on. Spain didn't turn them off on his way to the bathroom. Nor did he turn off the tv or pick up the blanket from the floor.
Romano sighed, and picked up the blanket, folded it and took it to the bedroom.
The bed was a mess.
He approached it and passed a hand over the pillow. There was a brown hair in it, and he was never more aware of how many brown haired people were out there.
He took the blanket back to the living room and pretended not to have seen anything. Not even when Spain kissed his neck and slipped a hand under his shirt. Because as much as he wanted to wrap his arms around him and taste every inch of his skin, he couldn't stop thinking about the messy bed.
III
That night, after Romano had left, Spain sat at the table looking at the empty glasses of wine left. He didn't feel like cleaning up anything. His head felt heavy and groggy, even though Romano's visit had brightened his mood a lot.
He sighed, turned off every light, and went to bed.
IV
Spain woke up. Something heavy pressed on his chest. Something heavy and dangerous, a shadow that moved, strangling him.
He couldn't move. He was frozen to the point that he couldn't even scream. He could only see that thing on top of him strangling and making a strange, buzzing growl.
Spain tried to move, tried desperately to look around for anything, or anyone. He blinked, and sat up screaming.
The thing on top of him was gone. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, but his first instinct was still to turn on the bedside lamp. He breathed deeply for a few moments, and then ran to the bathroom to check on his neck and chest.
There was nothing.
He fell to the cold tile floor. There was either something very wrong with him, or something very bad out there to get him. He got up and, after turning on every light in the house, sat down with a bottle of wine, and turned on his computer.
He dithered a little at the search screen, then decided for "paralyzed with something pressing on top of me"
A bunch of results came on for something called Sleep Paralysis along with many images of demons on top of suffering women on their beds.
There were even animations of how it looked like, being in your bed, unmoving, while that dark thing approached, climbing into your bed.
He had to stand up and walk around for a while after seeing that. He looked at the clock on top of the tv and saw it was 4 a.m.
A couple glasses of wine later he went back to the computer. This sleep paralysis thing seemed to be set off by anxiety or abnormal sleep patterns. But sometimes it seemed to just...happen. Out of the blue and for no reason.
Spain whined and rubbed at his tired eyes. There seemed to be simple things that he could do to prevent it but no guarantee that it would actually help. Only lower the chances of it happening.
Still, the thought that this happened to so many people made him feel much better.
He took note of every advice: don't sleep on your back, stay hydrated, keep sensible sleep times, and don't drink too much alcohol.
He looked longingly at the bottle next to the monitor, but there was no question that it just wasn't worth this constant terror.
He got up and poured it down the sink.
Then he stretched, drank some water, and sat down in the living room to watch some tv and relax for a while.
He turned it on and found a scary movie. No good. Next channel had a history documentary. No good either. Next channel, a rerun of a financial broadcast about how much worse the Spanish economy would get. He turned it off with a sigh.
He paced around the apartment for a while, looking out to the sleeping city. After a few moments of tapping on the cold glass of the window, he turned away, and went to the bookshelf near the entrance. There, he picked up the Quijote with a small smile. He opened it and traced that one line that always made him smile.
"Y así, del poco dormir y del mucho leer, se le secó el cerebro, de manera que vino a perder el juicio."
(And so, from so little sleep, and so much reading, his brain dried up, such that he came to lose his mind.)
He took the book and the glass of water to bed, where he made himself comfortable, and soon after, he fell asleep.
V
Spain woke up. He opened his eyes and heard a strange, buzzing sound all around.
His body was paralyzed.
He was completely frozen, and there was something in the room.
He tried to breathe, but felt like he was choking. All he could see was the book still open in his lap and a strange shadow moving in the corner of the room.
Approaching.
He screamed in his mind when he saw the shadow claw up into his bed.
The closet door opened slowly, and something walked out of it. Slowly.
The shadow climbed on top of him, pressing over his arms, against him, trying to choke him while the other entity approached.
He screamed. He screamed as loud as he could, but no sound would come out of his mouth.
He tried to move his eyes, and look away, when suddenly he was jumping out of the bed. He stumbled over the covers, and fell down. He screamed and crawled away until he realized there was nothing in the room, and the closet door was closed.
He took his axe from under the bed and opened the closet, rummaging through the clothes and pulling out everything he could. When he convinced himself that there was nothing, he looked carefully around the room. Only then did he take a deep breath, and left his axe on the floor against the dresser.
He needed lots of water, relaxing music, no alcohol, and apparently, yoga.
VI
A day after he'd gone to see Spain, Romano had already convinced himself that he had been overreacting. After all, Spain had just been tired and groggy from a night of sleeping in the couch. There were a thousand reasons why Spain might have gotten out of bed to watch a movie, right?
The phone rang. Romano saw it was Spain's number.
"What is it Spain?"
"Ah, Roma! I've missed you so much!"
"Spain I saw you the day before yesterday."
"I miss you all the time!"
Romano gave a long suffering sigh, but smiled softly.
"Are you busy Romano? Would you like to come have dinner? We can watch a movie or something! Please Roma!"
"Well, I suppose I could manage, just because you sound so desperate."
"Thank you Roma!"
Hearing Spain's voice lifted a heavy weight off his shoulders, and he picked a very nice bottle of wine for them.
He arrived at Spain's apartment building just a little bit early, and saw that the elevator was busted. A note pasted in the door said that it wouldn't be repaired until everyone caught up with their payments for the upkeep of the building. Muttering curses, he climbed the five stories up to Spain's floor. A middle aged lady who lived in the floor below was opening her door when he passed, and Romano recognized her from a few times they'd passed each other. She recognized him too, and smiled at him.
"Ah, you're the friend of that nice guy who lives upstairs, right?"
"Uhm, yes."
"Is he alright? We've been hearing screaming at night, and we're a bit concerned."
"I…I'll tell him…"
She closed the door and Romano climbed the last flight of stair. He decided to get to the bottom of whatever was happening. He didn't even bother to knock, just took out his key and entered.
"Spain, I'm here," he said, and saw Spain had fallen asleep in the dining table. There was a scent of something burning, and Romano rushed to the kitchen, where he found a pot of something burning at the stove. "Spain dammit! Wake up!" he shouted, and left the bottle in the kitchen table so he could take the pot off the stove and throw it in the sink.
Spain entered the kitchen when he was opening the windows.
"You fell asleep, you idiot!" shouted Romano. Spain looked pale and confused.
"I…I don't…I'm sorry Roma…"
Romano calmed down. Spain seemed sad. Romano reached for his hand, but Spain had already turned away and was rubbing at his eyes. "I was tired. I'll clean up now."
"Don't mind it, let's just open the windows."
Dinner was ruined, and Spain's mood was completely gloomy, despite how much he tried to seem upbeat.
"I'll fix something really fast, just give me a while," he said, opening the refrigerator. Romano caressed his back.
"You look like shit Spain, let it go. I'll order pizza or something."
"But I invited you, and now-" Romano kissed him.
"Go sit down. I'll call. What do you want?"
"Hmm, pizza's fine."
Romano took the wine bottle and gave it to Spain. "If you want to make yourself useful, go open this," he said, and took out his cellphone to call the nice little pizza place down the street.
He ordered dinner, and closed the kitchen window. The evening had turned very cold. At the dining room, Spain had opened the bottle, but there was only one glass in front of him. He smiled and gave it to Romano.
"You don't like it?" he asked. Spain laughed nervously.
"It's not that! I just…well, I…haven't been sleeping well, and I read that alcohol isn't good when you have trouble sleeping."
"I see. Your downstairs neighbor said something about that."
"Uh?"
"She said that they've been hearing you scream."
"Ah, that. Yeah, well I…it's…I've been watching scary movies. Yes. Lots of screaming in those."
Romano gave him his best Are you fucking kidding me? Stare, but Spain only smiled brightly and hugged him.
His fingertips were strangely cold.
"Please stay the night, Roma," he whispered against Romano's ear. He smelled like sunny days, and Romano's heart beat faster, recognizing the warmth of home in Spain's arms.
"Alright."
That night they watched some silly action movie with a lot of explosions and enjoyed a very nice pizza, even for Romano's standards.
Spain made excited noises in every fight scene, and Romano drank too much wine, he was sure of it, because before the movie was over he was kissing Spain's jaw and tracing patterns over his stomach.
"Let's go to bed," he whispered over his neck, and Spain turned off the tv.
They stumbled to the bedroom among kisses and bites. Romano threw Spain down on the bed and kissed him desperately, slipping a hand under his shirt.
"Roma," breathed Spain when Romano kissed down his neck and dtarted opening his shirt. "I'm...I'm a little..." Romano opened his pants and froze.
"Why...?" Tried to ask Romano, seeing that Spain wasn't hard at all. Unlike him.
"I'm sorry, I'm just tired, that's all..."
Romano pouted. Every expectation he'd had for the evening had failed.
"Well you do look like shit," he said, and laid down next to him. Spain turned on his side and caressed his face.
"I wanted to be close to you tonight. That's all. I'll make it up to you Roma."
"Of course you will, you bastard," said Romano, and kissed his nose softly. "Now get ready while I take care of this, alright?"
"I could..."
"No. I'm fine, just get me something to sleep in."
Romano went to the bathroom, and by the time he came out Spain was wearing those old long sleeved pajamas that were too big for him and made him look disgustingly cute. He had also taken out the tomato printed ones for Romano, but he would make sure Spain would make it up to him for that too. Romano took off his shirt and threw it at the corner next to the dresser. Something metallic fell, making a horrible clatter.
"What the hell Spain?!"
"Oh that's just my old axe. I forgot I'd put it there."
"Why the hell would you have an axe in the bedroom?"
"Axes are actually very useful. I also have some swords around in the living room. You never know when-"
Romano put a hand over Spain's mouth.
"Enough. Go to sleep."
Spain gave him a sheepish look, and got under the covers. Romano stayed a awake for a while, listening to Spain's breathing evening slowly and enjoying the feeling of his arms around him.
His fingertips were still cold.
Romano had known Spain almost all his life. Spain had in fact been the center of his life at some points, more so than now; and so he knew there was something very wrong with him.
But he didn't dare to question him directly.
He listened carefully to Spain's breathing behind him.
"Are you asleep bastard?" He asked in a whisper. No response. "Of course you are. You look like death warmed over. What's gotten to you lately dammit? I wish you'd stop being such an idiot and just...tell me..." He sighed, and tried to sleep.
His eyelids started feeling heavy, when suddenly he felt Spain's embrace tightening, almost hurting him. He screamed in shock, and Spain jumped out of the bed.
"Spain! What was that?!"
Spain stepped back and fell to the floor. He was deathly pale and shaking. Romano got up and approached him.
"W-what? I...Dios, no. ¿Te lastimé? (God, no. Did I hurt you?)"
"No, no, I'm fine, you just shocked me. What's wrong? What happened to you? Are you alright?"
Spain only shook his head. "I had nightmare," he said, and got up.
"A nightmare? Are you serious?"
Spain grabbed a long jacket and his keys.
"I need some air. I-I'll be right back."
"You're going out? Wait, I'll go with you!"
Spain opened the door. He looked darkly back at Romano. "No, you stay here," he said and left.
Romano stood frozen in the living room, and when he could no longer hear Spain's footsteps, he cried.
VII
When Spain returned, Romano was already gone.
He felt relieved, and let himself cry in the darkness of his room, where he could still smell Romano in his pillow.
He wanted him. He needed him.
But he would sooner cut off his own hand than risk hurting him.
VIII
Prussia knocked on the door to Spain's apartment.
"I don't have keys of here, so open up already!" he shouted and knocked even harder. Spain opened the door and glared at him.
"You. What are you doing here?" he asked. Prussia pushed him away from the door and let himself in.
"A little bird told me that you were having trouble sleeping," he said. Perched on his shoulder, Gilbird chirped. Prussia caressed him. "It might or might not have been my baby."
"Prussia, I know it was Romano."
"Ah, you got us there. So, what's the problem?"
Spain leaned against the door. "I have Sleep Paralysis. Every. Night. Sometimes many times a night."
"You have what?"
Spain took a deep breath, and went to put on the kettle for some tea. "Sleep paralysis. It's kind of like a sickness except it's not really a sickness. More like a sleep disorder. I wake up at some point after falling asleep and start hallucinating horrors around me."
"And the paralysis…"
"I can't move because even though I'm awake, my body is not, so I'm paralyzed. That's the scientific explanation."
"There's another explanation?"
"Demons, ghosts, horrorterrors of the night."
"Alrighty, we're sticking to the scientific explanation then. Is there a cure?"
The water finished boiling and Spain took out a couple mugs. "There isn't even a reason for why it happens. Much less a cure for it."
"What? That's bullshit!"
Spain set down a mug in front of Prussia with a very small mug next to it for Gilbird. "Don't yell, my head is killing me."
"Sorry," he said, and took a sip from the tea. "What the hell is this?"
"I have no idea, but the box said it's for relaxation and restful sleep. So far, it hasn't helped," Spain let his head down to rest on top of the dinner table. "Nothing is helping. Resting, exercise, tea, water, sleeping pills...Nothing."
Prussia didn't know what to say then, and they fell into a gloomy silence broken only by Gilbird drinking happily from his tiny mug.
"Have you gone to see a doctor?"
"No, I don't want anyone to find out about this. If I went to a doctor it would take no time for it to be on national news, and I really don't want that."
"You could go to West's place, he would help."
"I know, but I don't want to ask anything of him right now. With all the problems with my economy and stuff. I don't feel comfortable asking anyone else for help either."
"Mhm. And why don't you want Romano to find out?"
"I just...I wish I could just fix this on my own. I'm supposed to take care of him, not ask him for help!"
Prussia raised an eyebrow at that. "Dude, you're not caring for him anymore. He's not a kid you have to protect."
"I know, I know, but I still want to care for him. I still want to be the boss, but this makes me feel so weak and pathetic."
Prussia nodded. He thought that Spain was being overly proud and clinging too much to the past, but he understood that attitude too much to comment on it.
"Maybe you haven't researched enough about it. Maybe there's something you haven't tried."
Spain shrugged and pointed to the old laptop sitting on a nearby table. "Go ahead if you want to, but I've searched as much as possible for anything that might help."
That night, Spain laid on his side on the couch with the tv on and Gilbird napping on top of his head. Prussia sat on the couch next to him with the laptop, searching for anything he could find on the subject. From time to time he looked at Spain's face to check if everything was alright.
He read everything he could find from the most reputable of sites, but most had the same repeating advice about relaxing, drinking water, and sleeping at regular hours. On the tv, a lady talked about the downgrade of the ratings of several spanish banks. Prussia turned it off.
A few more minutes passed where the only sounds were the constant ticking of the clock on the wall, and Prussia's fingers on the keyboard.
Suddenly, Gilbird woke up and started chirping. He flew in front of Prussia's face, and then flew in circles over Spain's head.
"Uh? Is it happening?" asked Prussia and got up. He knelt in front of Spain and looked at his face. He noticed his eyes moving under his eyelids, so he put a hand on him, and tried to shake him awake. Spain's eyes opened, and he punched Prussia in the face so hard, he knocked him out. Gilbird chirped, and went to fly in circles over his head.
"¡Mierda! (Shit!)" Spain looked around for a moment, and then went to pick his friend up from the floor. He carried him to the bed and brought some alcohol from the bathroom to wake him up.
Five a.m. found them both sitting at the bed in an awkward and embarrassed silence. Prussia had his head thrown backwards to stop the bleeding from his nose.
"I'm so sorry Prussia, but I was being attacked by something, and I was so terrified!"
Prussia lowered his head. "No shit was attacking you. I was right there!"
"Yes, yes, now we know it really is just a bunch of hallucinations."
"Wow, we ruled out demons and ghosts and it just cost me my goddamn nose."
"I'm sorry! I'll cook you something nice to apologize."
"Later. Now, you have to get rid of that thing," he said, pointing to the axe leaning against the dresser.
"But axes are-!"
"A safety hazard in your condition. Believe me," he pointed to his bleeding nose.
"Fine, I won't have it in the house anymore."
In the morning, they sent the axe to Germany for safekeeping, along with all the short swords and antique daggers Spain had lying around the house. After that they sat in the living room, trying to think of something Spain hadn't tried.
"This is even worse than when Romano had chorea. At least then I was in control enough to help," said Spain as he served a simple breakfast of eggs and toast for them, and water and birdseed (in tiny plates) for Gilbird.
"Now that you mention it, have you tried tarantella?"
"That's not even related to what I have."
"No, but do you have any better ideas?"
Spain sat down at the table. "At this point I don't have any idea about anything. Let's try it."
But by then Spain had forgotten most of what he'd learned about tarantella, and he didn't want to spend any longer trying uselessly to sleep for as long as the research took. So they went to Italy, to a small village in the province of Taranto, near the coast. Spain sat at the beach looking out to the sea. If anything, going there seemed to be the only thing to have actually helped him relax since the sleep paralysis episodes started.
He lifted a handful of sand, and let it fall between his fingers. He smiled at the way he could feel Romano's presence in every grain of sand, and in every roar of the waves.
Prussia came running.
"Where the hell were you? I told you to stay in the car!" he said.
"I want to take some sand back home. Give me a jar."
"Are you hallucinating again?"
Spain gave him the puppy face, and Prussia sighed. Then he walked back to his car, rummaged around in the trunk and found an old empty bottle of beer that hee brought back to Spain.
"Here. Hurry up, I found a woman who says she can help you," he told Spain, handing him the bottle.
The woman received them in her home with a bright smile, but a menacing aura. She organized a festival at the village, and had taught the tarantella dance for over twenty years. She had suffered from anxiety and depression, and claimed that tarantella had helped her deal with it. Spain was ready to believe anything from anyone if it meant he would get at least a few hours of undisturbed sleep.
She went into the house and brought out a long red cloth for Spain to tie around his waist.
"You still should see a doctor, dear," she said. Spain smiled.
"I'll go if this doesn't work."
The lady nodded, and called for her two sons to come out and play music for them.
"Now dear, once you get the footwork right, everything will flow," the lady said, and showed Spain how to do it. Spain only needed a few tries before his body remembered the moves. The lady laughed when she saw how fast Spain had gotten the hang of it, and Spain held her hand and they guided each other through the dance.
Spain got tired easily, and they had to stop a few times before it got dark. The lady offered them a room at her house, but Spain said they had a room at a hotel, so they left after thanking the her profusely.
Prussia drove a little, and then parked at a place that overlooked the beach.
"So, where is this supposed hotel we have a room at?" he asked. Spain sighed.
"I want to sleep at the beach."
"No."
"But-"
"You are not in a position to be giving out the orders, so just listen to me. You need a place where you can rest comfortably and be warm and cozy and shit. So shut your yap and let me do the thinking," he said, and started the car again. He drove to a small hotel in the nearby city of Taranta and ordered a room with separate beds. Spain was so exhausted after all the dancing and traveling, that Prussia had to half drag half carry him up the stairs.
"You owe me so much beer for this, you have no idea," said Prussia. Spain tried to lift his head but couldn't.
"S'rry Pr'sha."
"Ja, ja, shut up."
Prussia put him to bed making sure that he was lying on his side like the advice said, and covered him carefully with the blankets.
"You keep an eye on him and call me if it happens, ok?" he told Gilbird. The little bird chirped and lifted a wing.
IX
Spain awoke. A strange grogginess made his thoughts slow and sluggish and it took him a moment to recognize the heavy weight that completely paralyzed his body. He tried to take a deep breath, but there was something pressing his chest. There was something pressing on his back too. Something that crawled over his body.
A low buzzing sound filled the room and he saw figures around him.
Moving.
Approaching.
There was one in his back and it was holding him down and touching him and it was going to kill him. It was going to kill him and he knew it.
He tried to scream, tried to move.
One of the figures lifted him and shook him. It was white. Completely white, and its eyes shone red.
Spain screamed. He could breathe and move again. He kicked the figure away and ran out of the room. He ran out of the hotel and down the street until his legs gave out. Only then did he notice Gilbird flying next to him, and started piecing everything together.
"I kicked Prussia," he said. Gilbird chirped. "Oh, no...I hope he's alright."
Gilbird chirped happily and landed on Spain's shoulder. Spain looked around. He had no idea where he was, but he was sure as long as he was with Gilbird, Prussia would find them. That was, if he wasn't too badly hurt. He couldn't remember how hard he'd kicked him or how, so he just hoped that he hadn't knocked him out again.
He wandered the streets for a while until he found a small church and entered. He sat at one of the pews from the middle and pulled out the cross he had around his chest.
"God? Uhm...it's me, Spain," he said awkwardly. "I know I used to be a pagan, and now I'm only like, 70% catholic," he looked apologetically at the images of many different saints around him. "But I really need help now. Personally, I mean."
Someone came running into the church. Gilbird flew to Prussia immediately.
"I found you! Shit, you run fast," he said, sitting down next to Spain. He had a bruise on his cheek, but otherwise seemed fine.
"Are you alright?" asked Spain. Prussia nodded.
"Sure. You just caught me by surprise. I thought you were going to throw another punch at me. Even hallucinating you is good at fighting, I'll give you that."
Spain took a deep breath. "What am I going to do now Prussia? I've tried everything. And now I feel like I'm going crazy from this. I need sleep so badly."
Prussia thought for a moment. "Well, maybe you could try to remember that it's just a dream and that you're not really awake when you see these things, and then you won't be so afr-agh-" Spain grabbed him around the throat and started strangling him.
"Prussia, I'm sleep deprived and desperate, but I am NOT stupid! Believe me, if I could just think rationally while half asleep and paralyzed and hallucinating wildly I would. But I can't. I can't be rational because my brain's fucked up. So stop being a bitch, and start being useful!"
"So that was the problem," said a voice behind them from the entrance of the church. Spain let go of Prussia and looked at Romano. Prussia fell to the floor coughing and gasping for breath.
"Romano! W-what are you doing here?" he asked.
"You're in Italy!"
"...Ah."
Romano rubbed at his temples. "I'll be patient with you now because, as you kindly just said, you're sleep deprived and your brain's fucked up. But as soon as you're fixed, I'm kicking you so hard for being such an idiot," he said, walking up to them. "Why didn't you tell me this in the first place? I would have tried to help you! If you don't trust me-"
"It's not that!" said Spain, getting up. "I...I just…," he looked down to the floor. "I didn't want you to see me like this. I'm the boss...I shouldn't be scared like this. Scared of nothing but bad dreams and shadows…"
Romano slapped him.
"You idiot! You stupid fucking idiot!" he yelled. Spain stared at him in shock. "How can you think that?! What did you think I would do? Laugh at you?! You're the boss, so if you're having problems with dreams, then dreams are a problem and that's it, you idiot!"
Spain opened his mouth to say something, but could find no words. Romano had said all that Spain wanted to hear but didn't dare to hope for, and now he tried to find words for all those things that could not be bound by words. Like the way his heart leaped when Romano looked up at him in awe, or the way he himself felt stronger when he held him protectively in his arms. And the terror of thinking the shadows of the night would take all of that away from him.
"I love you so much Roma!" he finally said, and lifted him in his arms. Romano didn't push him away. Just buried his face in Spain's hair and wrapped his arms around him.
X
Romano took him to a private sleep doctor that treated members of the mafia families that he worked with and swore complete secrecy about it.
After many tests and studies, the doctor concluded that there was nothing wrong with Spain's head, and that whatever was afflicting him had to do with something psychological, but Spain couldn't think of anything that was wrong with him before the disorder started.
"Episodes of Sleep Paralysis are often linked to anxiety and depression. Have you been anxious about something?" the doctor asked.
"No. Nothing."
"Are you sure? Maybe there's even something you're trying to avoid thinking about."
Spain thought for a while. There were many things he tried to not think about. It came with being over 2200 years old. But nothing more than usual. "I don't think so…"
"Then, given your status as a country, there might be something affecting the Spanish people that in turn might be affecting you."
Spain grunted tiredly and scoffed out a laugh. "You mean apart from the financial crisis and the rising unemployment levels?"
The doctor looked at him very seriously. "Mr. Spain, that might very well be the cause for your condition."
They talked some more, and after carefully discarding any other possible cause, it came down to the same conclusion where the most probable explanation for his condition would be national anxiety over the economy. Because it was linked to his unique condition as a country, the doctor was reluctant to medicate him until Spain told him that while national events affected him, it didn't work backwards and things that affected his physical body didn't affect the state of the country.
He offered to stab himself to prove it, and the doctor prescribed him immediately.
"See? It was a good idea to take away his axe," whispered Prussia to Romano, who nodded. "Could I also get some painkillers? This still hurts," he pointed to his swollen nose.
A couple prescriptions and a trip to the pharmacy later, Prussia and his bird went back to Germany with a trunk full of pizza and various pasta dishes. Spain called his boss to explain that for personal health reasons that had to remain private, he would be taking a vacation and staying at Romano's house for a while.
Romano took him to an old small villa he had near the sea, and got a bed big enough for them to sleep together far enough for Spain to not worry about lashing out at him in the middle of a hallucination.
The medication helped a little, but Spain still had intermittent episodes of sleep paralysis. But now when he woke up in terror in the middle of the night, he could walk to the balcony and breathe in the scent of the sea. Some nights Romano would wake up when Spain jumped out of the bed, terrified and confused; and he would hold him until he could go back to sleep. But a few times, Romano would wake up to an empty bed and find Spain lying on the sand outside. Those times he would sit next to him, and wait until he woke up by himself. Because he knew that those times were the worst, and this was the only way Spain could feel completely embraced by him.
XI
A few weeks later, a messenger arrived at Germany's house with a cake, a bottle of Italian wine, and a note for his brother from Spain that said
Thank you for helping me, and sorry for breaking your nose and calling you a bitch at the church
Germany just took a deep breath, and called his brother.
Author's Notes:
A friend that doesn't get angry when you strangle him because he knows you haven't slept in days. That's how good of a friend Prussia is. Also, I have a headcanon where Spain thinks there is no problem you can't get rid of by throwing an axe at it. To be honest, apart from his Sleep Paralysis, he's actually right.
Sleep Paralysis is a sleep disorder that affects approximately 7.6% of the population. The advice mentioned here didn't help Spain, but it does help in real cases of Sleep Paralysis so if you find that you get it do try it. Exercise seems to be the most helpful thing in those cases.
If you find that, despite all your efforts you still get repeating sleep paralysis (maybe even many times a night) and it is affecting your sleep to the point that it's messing up your waking life, try to go see a doctor. Apart from being one of the most terrifying experiences you can have, sleep paralysis has been linked to Narcolepsy and Obstructive Sleep Apnea.