I've been working on the chapter for Bruises and Excuses, but I've been really busy ^^; Here's a chapter not written by me but my co author on this story with the pen name Annalease. You can find her here on fanfiction dot net but I don't think she's posted anything in a long time. Anyway, enjoy the chapter!
Germany wasn't sure how long he stood there. All he knew right now was the guilt. It was his fault that Italy was that way. It was his fault that he'd gotten... It was his fault he didn't protect the other more, or teach him ways to get out of such a situation. It was all his fault.
He was soaked by the time Romano made his way over. It wasn't hard to see how furious he was, or how much he rightfully blamed the German. The words did nothing but confirm the guilt, but it still felt like a stab in the chest. He had caused this. It was his fucking fault.
The Nation dropped his head and turned it away from what he had caused. In that moment, a mask was built, one that would hide the emotions he felt. One that would hide the tears he wished to cry. One that would hide the cracks that had formed in the old. One that would allow him to hide.
Those old cracks... They'd been caused by Italy who'd gotten too close. He'd let some cracks form, while others just appeared. Smiles, laughs, any emotion other than ones that would allow him to complete his work had begun to show in the years past. He hadn't minded then. Sure, he'd been bothered by it, but he hadn't thought it would cause anything like this. It just reminded him why he'd locked up those emotions. Because emotions caused such things like this. Emotions caused him to slip and let this happen.
And so, the new mask was formed, and it would stay crackless, lest this happen again.
Germany looked up, feeling cold. "I know..." he muttered in response to Romano. He turned his gaze to the smaller Italian, and felt his heart hurt. He'd caused all of that. All the bruises, all the cut and bites. Everything.
In that moment, though, he needed to go to Italy, even though the other must hate him for this. Romano did.
So, he carefully made his way through the crowd, stopping only when an officer asked him who he was. Stating that he was Ludwig, and that he had been called, the man let him through, not asking anymore questions.
He stopped in front of the small Italian, and crouched down so he could be face to face with him. Other than that, Germany didn't know what to do, or what would be allowed by the other. He didn't know yet the level of hate the other would have for him. It would be great, though. It had to be.
"Feliciano..."