GerIta
Completed.
Now everyone was happy.
Now everyone was outside or inside.
Somehow people were already in the hospital, and the Belarusian outside was staring inside like there was some forbidden prize, and after Romano stabbed Antonio, the cast was complete.
Ludwig surveyed the ICU room and the mass group of people that stood before it.
The Polish and the Lithuanian had arrived long before the majority, and were talking to (or at least one of them was—the other was quivering) to the Russian that guarded the Chinese's pale body, lying amongst the white sheets and white pillows.
Feliciano had said Yao looked like a ghost.
The Greek and the Japanese had arrived moments before the group to let Ivan take a break, but the Russian refused to leave his spot.
Ever since the Spanish was brought out of the ER, the Italian (mind you, the southern one) had clung on his body and refused to talk, eat, or sleep. He just grabbed Antonio's hands and muttered his name over and over again.
The loud, obnoxious American had inspected every inch of the British (quietly, for a nice change) to make sure he wasn't hurt, then had taken Arthur's hand and guided him to the restroom. Ludwig could only imagine what they were doing in there for so long. The Hungarian had gone inside to check on them, only to return and grab the Japanese's hand and pull him into the bathroom, screaming something that sounded like, "Yeah oh e!"
Which doesn't make any sense. At all.
The French and the Canadian had taken their leave and Francis could be heard whispering something to soothe Matthew. Then someone had fallen to the ground and Matthew could be seen rounding the corner, eyes tearing up like streams of river. He shot past the people that stood around idly in the hallways.
The Prussian and the Austrian were talking to each other, the Prussian doing most of the talking and the Austrian doing most of the listening. Roderich seemed, however, to not want to talk to Gilbert, who had to grab Roderich's shoulder every time he turned around (a.k.a every ten seconds).
"Hey, Luddy! Where's the restroom?"
"It's the direction of retreat."
"Okay!" Feliciano gave Ludwig a short "Ve~" then ran south away from them.
"Is that, like, some kind of secret language you guys have? Dang, that's like, so cool! Totes, Toris, we should have one too!" Feliks interrupted, eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Uh, no, "Ludwig said, "it's because he can't understand it any other way."
"Oh."
"He doesn't know what's left and right. I figured that out when I told him to make a circle, and remember to take the fork at the crossroads on the left, and he ended up somewhere in Romania, because he thought right was left."
"When was this?" Toris asked.
"Before we started dating. When WWII was going on." Ludwig frowned, unwilling to bring up the topic he was so sore about.
"Yes, like, that is totes sweet! Toris, we should, like, totes make our own secret language like that!"
"You know how to tell between your left and right, Feliks," Toris sighed, trying to hide his blush. Secret language, huh? Between cute, lovey-dovey couples, huh? Between me and Feliks—no! Me and Natalya…yeah…
Right?
Ludwig's eyes drifted away from the talking Polish and the blushing Lithuanian.
Why is it taking Feli so long?
"Feli? Are you still in the restrooms?" Ludwig called out. He heard sobbing emitting from one of the stalls, and immediately burst into the room. The crying abruptly stopped and Feliciano's small head poked out from the center stall.
"Hey, Luddy. Sorry…I was just…I don't know. What if they don't make it? What if Yao and Antonio die? Fratello would never forgive himself! And Ivan would be so much more unhappy…What if, Luddy? Would anyone want to come to our wedding then? Would we be in the mood for celebrating our own wedding?"
Ludwig approached the slightly ajar door and opened it gently, but the Italian quickly closed it tight.
"No! I don't want you to see me like this!"
Ludwig groaned and swung his arm around twice. He bent his neck once to the left, once to the right, and cracked his knuckles.
"Back up."
"Wait, Luddy…!"
Ludwig Beilschmidt burst through the stall door, ripping it off his hinges. Feliciano had collapsed inside, his amber eyes open in shock.
"On your feet, right now!"
"Y-Yes Sir!" the Italian squeaked, looking absolutely petrified.
"Number one, we shall not cancel our wedding even if people with guns burst into our room the night before and threaten us! Number two, the Chinese and the Spanish is not going to die! Number three, get your wits together and smile!"
"Yes Sir!"
Feliciano's bright smile returned to his face, the colors of roses painting the white canvas of his cheeks red again.
"No! What are you doing with my fratello, you potato bastard?"
Ludwig turned around to see the entire cast (missing the Nordics, of course) staring at him at Feliciano.
And it sure wasn't awkward that Arthur and Alfred came out of the next stall together.
I forgot the A/N last chapter...hmmm...I've been kinda lazy and the updates are killing me. I might go from three chapters down to two...
Puppet Painter