Disclaimer-I do not own hetalia
Note- Now the story shall begin rolling. As I mentioned before. Dark themes, Gerita, etc. thanks for all the reviews and please review. Review=chapters
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Gilbert stared at his plaster prison walls. His ear's twitched at sounds around him, but his eyes didn't stray from the grey texture. For entertainment, he would scratch himself, hum, sleep, prod his injuries and hiss from pain. His boredom had reached dangerous levels. He began to pick up feral habits, like chewing on sheets and scratching at the head board. Gilbert would gnaw at his own skin and make imprints with his teeth. Sometimes he would pull at his hair and rip it from his scalp, inspecting each vibrant strand before discarding it off the side of the bed.
Food was his own break from madness and Feliciano his own companion. His brother would come in occasionally but because of the way Gilbert treated him, the younger rarely visited. Today, as the mundane routine continued, Feliciano walked in with a bowl of broth for breakfast and a glass of water. His clothing was stained from days of house work. To conserve on water and soap, Feliciano wore the same outfit around the house all week and only changed for going out. So the Italian was freckled with brown and green stains, the fabric began to wear thin.
"Good morning Gilbert," The same cheery tone. Gilbert sighed,
"Morning Feli," He said,
"Oh, I have good news for you. Elizaveta agreed to visit today. She'll be here in a few hours."
"You didn't warn me?" Gilbert scolded,
"I'm sorry! I got word last night but you were asleep, and-" Gilbert raised his hand to stop him.
"It's fine… I am just so ungroomed…" He said. Feliciano smiled,
"I can help you Gilbert. If you like, I can bathe and shave you." He offered. Gilbert raised a hand to his stubbly chin and smoothed over the fair hairs.
"It's hard Feli… I can't… I hate being so dependent on other people… I can't bathe with this contraption on. I'm wasting away in a bed. I can't even shave my face…"
"I understand Gilbert… But, if you want to be clean,"
"Let me do it myself," Gilbert insisted,
"Okay, okay… But perhaps it is best if we wait until Ludwig goes out it would be better. You know how he worries." Feliciano reasoned.
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After pushing Feliciano away several times, the Italian finally let the injured man have his space. Stretching and struggling, he tried to reach the corner's of his body with the sponge. The stool he sat on rocked precariously as he shifted his weight. The towels beneath him absorbed the dripping foul water. He had been able to clean his private areas, thank God, but was straining to reach his foot and back.
Feliciano offered once more, but firmer, taking the soft and sloppy tan sponge from his hand. Gilbert protested but went quiet when a soothing message of the warm clean water went over his back. Feliciano firmly pressed against Gilbert, who's back gave with little pressure. He was weak. Ribs began to show from his spine and his shoulder blades were hallow.
"May I shave?" Gilbert asked, Feliciano handed him a mirror and razor blade then continued to clean his back.
The mirror shined back the first images he had seen of himself since his incapacitation. He stared for a moment. His marred eye was bruised and the lids pulled to keep the cloudy pupil from the light. The one good eye was dull and void of any luster. His masculine face was now withering and thin. Gilbert flicked open the straight razor and lathered his face. He listened to the dragging sound across his jaw as the metal sliced the hairs. His body shivered a bit and his spine tingled.
"Are you cold?" Feliciano asked,
"I am fine," Gilbert returned to his grooming. He worked the razor from his jaw to his chin and then under his neck. When all the soapy lather was gone and his bare skin showed he touched it with the metal.
It would be nothing for this razor to sever my veins… His finger's wrapped around the handle tight. The blade at his throat. Eyes widened as he focused. The instruments trembled in his hand. It slid. Down and closed, back into his lap without a bit of blood or flesh on it. Gilbert sighed and placed the mirror back down. The thought of Elizaveta walking in on a suicide scene made a wave of shame splash against his heart. Ludwig's anguish, and probably rage, that would torment him for years. No, for Gilbert suicide was an easy way out, the folding of the hand, the white flag that he was too stubborn and prideful to give in. Even with the horrors lingering in his mind about Ivan, his country, his family.
"All done," Feliciano chirped, "I brought up a fresh shirt," He handed him a long grey night shirt. As Gilbert slipped it on Feliciano hastily gathered the towels. Gripping the corner of the bed, Gilbert pulled himself back up and under the covers. He lifted his bottom up to place a towel underneath him. He hated not being able to wear pants like a man. His legs always cold and shaking.
"You look much better Gilbert,"
"…" His head flopped to the side. Feliciano frowned and collected the last of the supplies and headed out.
"Thank you… Feli…" Gilbert said. The Italian looked back at Gilbert, his warm eyes shining while a smile curled up his left cheek. His head cocked slightly as he gave a nodded to Gilbert.
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When Elizaveta entered the house Ludwig's aura shifted from his usual authoritive to a menacing and aggressive tension that lingered in the room, though he was not there to greet her. He stayed outside working, but he knew when she arrived. Everyone felt it. Feliciano greeted her and was the polite face in the household, escorting her like a lady should be by her host to the door of Gilbert's room.
When Gilbert saw the waves of chocolate swirling hair and creamy skin wrapped in colorful clothes his eyes widened. He stared for a moment before swallowing.
"Are you going to stare at me all day?"
"I wouldn't mind," She expected Gilbert's voice to have an acidic tone of condescending self-righteousness it always possessed. But his tone was soft, sincere, almost as if he was giving her a compliment. Take back a bit she approached him slowly. His one eye followed her, the other cloaked with a black patch.
"How are you doing?"
"A bit better, little hungry but who isn't?"
"You don't seem to be in pain,"
"I hide it well…" He admitted, "Although I do admit Feli and my brother are doing their best to heal me… How are things where you are?"
"Same... So, they really help you out a lot?"
"He is my brother and Feli is just a sweetheart," Gilbert said. Elizaveta huffed,
"Feli yes, but Ludwig is as stubborn as a mule."
"And just a strong… He has to be stubborn, or he would never survive against such powerful nations… He can be a gentleman, more so than I."
"I don't think gentlemanly ways run in your bloodlines," She said,
"Not in me anyway…"
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Ludwig came in just as Feliciano made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. He watched the other male in the door way for a moment. Feliciano was washing the counters off, not that there was any crumbs to be had.
"Feli," He whispered softly. With a twitch of the ear Feliciano partially turned.
"Yes Ludwig?"
"I…" He bit the side of his tongue. His eyes looked the Italian over top to bottom. His heart began to chew at his ribs and pace around his chest. Blood rushed to his head and he could feel the flesh of his cheeks warm. He took a breath,
"Never mind," He said and turned away.
How can I be so childish and immature. This is my own problem how could I even think of jeopardizing my relationship with the only true friend I have? What a stupid thing I almost did. I have to work this out on my own… Why do I keep even bringing it up? Have I not settled this matter in my mind already? Fuck, this might be a bigger problem than I originally calculated…So what if I am curious about his sexuality? To be so rude as to ask… He crouched by the radio and flicked it on. The knobs gently turning until though the haze a voice came through. It was a program from England. A story meant for children. He sat down on the couch and listened. It was the only thing that may not remind him of his situation. A tale of pirates took shape in his mind. He laid his hand on the cushion next to him, rubbing faintly with the movement of his fingers.
His brain stopped painting the picture the program was commanding and start a new portrait. Leos, asleep and curled up next to him. The radio just background noise. His body normal, face unstressed. The house in pristine condition. On his other side Feliciano was already in a deeper slumber, his head slightly cocked to the side. In a moment of imaginary weakness he leaned over and rested his tired head again his friend's shoulder and closed his eyes. The sensation of that thin but soft skin.
RING RING RIIIING. He jolted from his fantasy, eyes wide and looking around like buck that heard a rifle. His chest expanded and with a snort he settled down. Stretching out his tired body, he reached for the phone on the end table.
"Beilschmidt," A high pitched cry, like that of a some succubus dosed in holy water violated Ludwig's ears. He dropped the phone and cradled his ear. With his free hand he picked up the wailing device, which even at an arm's length away was too loud.
"Is something wrong? Is someone in trouble?" He shouted into the phone. A voice fought through the wailing.
"Mr. Beilschmidt… We need you to come down here!"
"I can't hear you over that screaming, who are you? Where are you?" He asked. This volume of commotion lured the Italian in, who stretched his neck over just inside the door. He gave a confused look to the German, who shrugged and gave just as clueless of a look back.
"Its-son-can't-ed-you" He voice could not be made out. Ludwig tried again to ask but this time the voice was able to fight its way through the line.
"Please get to the hospital now! Leos," The woman's voice was again overpowered.
Ludwig let the phone slide from his hand and hit the floor. His body stopped for a moment, as if to reset itself. A blank stare overcame his face.
"Ludwig?" A hint of shaking was in his voice. The sound of the Italian's words stirred and Ludwig, a sudden realization cam over him.
"I have to go. Now," Ludwig flung himself forward and bounded for the door.
"Ludwig you are filthy from working!" He hadn't heard. He was out the door and running down the forest path to the town. Feliciano stood in the doorway. A monotone beat from the abandoned phone buzzing in the background.
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Ludwig required no breath for explanation. The mailman's car was immediately loaned to him with best wishes. The drive was fast, Ludwig violated every speed limit, traffic stop, and blew past quaint towns he once slowed to enjoy. His veins twisted under his flesh and curled up, as if to burst from the body and hemorrhage from the pressure his heart was pumping. His eyes darted from corner to corner, sizing every turn, estimating how fast he could go.
The yowling could not have been produced by a child, certainly not an injured one with no strength such as Leos. No. Something must have been wrong. Perhaps several parents had to be called in. An Accident? Perhaps. An evacuation? Something that effected everyone for sure. The cries sounded more like a beast than a child's.
He only stopped when it came to the large gates of the hospital and parked crooked next to the other cars. His long legs strode up the stairs to the door where immediately upon opening a vile howling assaulted him. The marble walls and floors enhanced the sounds. Patients and nurses held their ears and gritted their teeth. Ill willed looks fell upon Ludwig as he made his way to the front desk.
"I was told to come immediately, my son is-"
"Get upstairs now!" She hissed and tugged at her small cap, trying to have it cover her ears. He did as he was commanded, his legs skipping several steps until he was up to the second floor. The crying was louder now. Older children lined the halls and limped, rolled, or scooted to the furthest corners to escape the noise.
Through the doors the intensity increased. Immobile children held their head under pillows and nurses gathered at the far corner. He noticed a few other parents or visitors. Which eased him, although they were occupied by the noise. From the curtains that isolated Leos poured nurses who shook their heads in despair. When their eyes caught glimpse of the tall man charging toward them their jaws slacked and faces turned happy. One of the placed a firm guiding hand, almost throwing Ludwig into the small room.
There was silence. The quietness almost was mistake for deafness. The moment Ludwig was pushed through the curtains the ululations of the demons had stopped. Father reached out and touched his son's cheek. Clear eyes, stared back, motionless and leaking. Like a still ocean with no tide. Body withered to nothing, too weak to move. Lungs expanded in choppy movements. Finally the platinum eyebrows curved up and bloody mouth quivered. The crying began again, but softer, like a child's voice should be. Ludwig engulfed him with his arms, fingers clawing at the boys back. The lack of muscle control let the boy's arms dangle in his grasp.
Leos cried and whimpered.
"Papa," his strained voice breathed.
"Shhhhhhhhhh, Papa is here. Hush now, it will be alright. Shhhhhhhh, it's ok, it's ok, I'm here. Leos, I'm h-here. P-papa's here." He pressed his crying eyes into his son's shoulders. His breathes were sharp as he wept with his son. Ludwig laid down, gathering the boy like a doll and pressing him against his chest like a needy infant. His blue eyes stung from the rays of light that reached down from the heavens, penetrating the glass, and touched the tears on his cheek.
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