Sup guys? Welcome from Mexico! My god, I am melting. It's like Florida, but hotter. And the mosquitoes! OMFG. That said, it is beautiful and I absolutely love it. Btw, next week, I'll be uploading on Wednesday as well as Saturday cos I have inspiration! Muchos gracias for all the reviews and follows!
France: She doesn't own 'etalia, but she could 'ave ze Eiffel Tower~ ;) 3
Me: *hides in corner* How did you get here...
England: *hits France*
Chapter 7: Love.
Germany's P.O.V.
Italy screams; a heart-rending, pain filled cry.
"Get it out, Doitsu! Get it out, please?"
I rummage desperately through the bags . Where the hell is it? Where?
Behind me, Italy is gasping, choking, tears flooding from his pain-filled eyes. A flash of dark green and white catches my eye and I yank the first-aid kit free. Moving as quickly as I can towards him, I snap the arrow shaft.
"Please, Doitsu! Get it out, please! Per favore!" His voice rises to an agonised shriek.
"I'm trying, Italy!" The arrowhead is embedded too deeply in his leg to reach it thorough his ripped trousers. If he hadn't been in so much pain, I would've got my knife and enlarged the tear, but as it is... I grasp his trousers and pull them down enough to see the arrow gleaming dully in an expanse of bloody flesh.
"Per favore, Germania! I'll do anything! I'm begging you! Please! Get it out!"
His wild cries tear at my heart strings as I reach out and tug at the arrow, but then I pull back as he emits the loudest, wildest scream yet, his head thrown back and tears leaking from closed eyes.
As suddenly as it started, the noise is cut off, but the second's relief I feel is quickly replaced with cold horror as he slowly pitches backwards to lie senseless on the cold blanket.
"I-Italy? Mein Gott!" I reach out with a trembling hand to touch him, paranoid of what I might discover. He isn't... Dead, is he? Gott, if he is... I don't know what I'd do. My hand feels his cold neck for a pulse and I heave a sigh of relief as one is uncovered. Just unconscious. At least I can care for him better without him screaming all the time. Poor guy.
I unpack a pair of tweezers and use them to extract the arrowhead. I set it by and start to gently clean the blood away. Gradually, the flakes of dried crimson come away from smooth, olive skin, leaving a thin, deep wound behind, which I stitch. After drying the area with a soft cloth, I smooth some antiseptic cream over his soft skin, massaging it in until it is invisible. Continuing, I become aware of a blush creeping up into my cheeks as my cold fingers are warmed through the contact. Casting the feeling from my mind, I dress and bandage the wound. Then, I move up to his head. Looking at his sleeping face, a tenderness takes me over. I brush the ever-present curl off his face, smooth his hair and lean down, allowing my lips to brush his forehead for an instance.
Italy's P.O.V.
I open my eyes and blearily gaze around the tent. My leg still hurts, but not as much as before. It's bearable. Sitting up groggily, I inspect it and find it neatly wrapped up in a bandage. Germania. I wish I'd been awake, even if I was in pain. Yearning grows inside of me and, suddenly, what I want more than anything else in the world is to see his face. Casting my eyes around, they alight on a turned back and a blond, bowed head. Is he asleep? I can't have been out for THAT long, can I?
"Um... Doitsu?" My voice comes out hoarse and quiet. I clear my throat and try again.
"Doitsu?" He stirs slightly. "Germany?" He murmurs something almost unintelligible. Staring my ears to make it out, I hear "...ciano." I gasp. Could that have been my name?
"Ludwig!" I blurt it out without thinking, then bite my lips.
He turns and regards me sleepily.
"Italy... You're awake!" His aquamarine eyes widen and he reaches out to me unconsciously, a kind of wonder and trepidation in his tired features.
"What did you just call me?"
"Umm... Ludwig, but I won't if you don't-"
"Nein!" His voice raises. "No... I don't mind." His eyes grow warm and I can just feel myself melting. "As long as, of course, I can call you Feliciano."
"O-of course!" A stupid grin appears on my face.
"How's your leg?"
I shrug and he moves to my side. We look at each other and then I duck my head, embarrassed.
"Are you scared of me, Feliciano?" I can hear a small smile in his voice.
"Please, call me Feli! And no! A bit. Maybe." I can't even control what I say any more! Damn you, brain!
Germany's P.O.V.
"Feli." His name sits warm and heavy on my tongue, and I savour the sound. "Are you scared of me?" Please don't say you are... Please...
"...no. I mean, I know you used to shout at me all the time and be really angry at me, but you were always so kind to me that I couldn't be scared of you."
Danke Gott. A huge weight lifts off my chest and, impulsively, I edge closer.
"Italy. Feli..."
"Si?" He turns to looks at me. Which means that he is now less than an inch away from me. My mouth goes dry and my heart into overtime. I can't move away or I know that I won't be able to move so close again. What did I do?
Pools of amber reflect my startled eyes. What do I do?
"Ludwig?" A timid voice cuts into my panic. All at once, I see his face in clear, sharp detail. His lower lips is trembling, a colour in his cheeks and his eyes fixed on mine. Reaching out, I lightly run my fingers along his smooth cheek. He closes his eyes and tilts his head into my palm, much the same as Austria. I remove my hand and he emits a small, almost inaudible it is now or never, I move closer, until I can feel his warm breath on my skin. I pause. What if he doesn't return my feelings? Rejects me? Stops being my friend? Am I prepared to take the risk?
The answer comes back as clear as possible. Yes.
I lean closer, a minuscule distance between us. My eyes close.
The next thing I feel are his warm, soft lips against mine. He starts, but doesn't pull away and then, amazingly, his lips move against mine, kissing me back.
All too soon, it's over, and we pull away from each other reluctantly.
"Feli, ich leibe dich. I love you." It feels as if I've been waiting my whole life since I met him to say that. He sighs.
"Ti amo, Ludwig. So much." A supple hand covers mine and I smile. My other hand moves uncertainly around his waist, pulling him closer. His arm snakes around my shoulders, and his other hand lifts to the nape of my neck, causing me to shiver as a thousand lightning bolts arc through me. Our foreheads touch, our arms linking our bodies together, and then is a moment of silence and calm. Then, he moves, I move too and we are kissing again, his mouth moving passionately against mine. I feel his teeth on my lips, then the tip of his tongue; forcing - so gently, so sweetly - my mouth open. Once that is achieved, it darts in, moving in complicated patterns that I try to emulate, chasing it. Stabs of pleasure assault me, racking my body. He leans backwards, dragging me down with him. Putting out an arm to stop myself from falling, I follow, sinking down slowly onto the floor.
And... See you next week~! God, I am evil~ ^J^
Translations:
Italian:
per favore: Please.
Ti amo: I love you.
Germania: Germany.
German:
Mein Gott: My God.
Gott: God.
Ich leibe dich: I love you.
Japanese:
Doitsu: Germany (you should know that...)
Well! Reviewers get this KOed France to do with him whatever their heart desires!
England: *celebrates*
