You are sick, and pleased about it. The headache, fever, and chills only contribute to the guilt/anxiety induced nausea you are facing, but any legitimate excuse to skip the UN meeting was welcome. Sprawled on the bed, you reach for your cell phone to text your absence excuse to Fra-
Ludwig. You would text Ludwig instead.
Sick today. Can't come to meeting (^ ^);
Having placed your phone on the nightstand, you curl into a ball and fall asleep.
Something is touching your nose. You sneeze and swat at it. There is a sharp chirp, which only irritates your headache, and you mutter a weak protest at the offender.
"_, you sound completely unawesome."
Your eyes snap open and you sit up with a start.
"Gilbert?" you murmur hoarsely.
"Ksesesesese! The awesome Prussia has come to take care of you!"
Decked out in his old military uniform, the albino man is leaning against the far wall. How he has gotten in, you have no idea. If Francis had given him a key, you would remember to kill the French man later. The chirping had been, you realize, Gilbird (who was making himself quite at home on the pillow beside you).
"What are you doing here?" you ask, perhaps a bit harshly. He doesn't seem to catch your tone, and starts to study your belongings.
"Didn't I say I was here to take care of you? You're lucky to have such an awesome nurse!" Gilbert boasts, all the while toying with a silk scarf Francis had given you (it was from his city of Lyon). You narrow your eyes.
"Go home," you mutter, laying back down and throwing your coverlet over your head.
"Nein!" he exclaims in his native German before perching at the edge of your bed. He tugs the blanket away from your feverish face.
"This was the only way Ludwig would let me out of the house! Besides, Francis has been ignoring me lately, and I've decided you're the next best thing."
You find the energy to snort. Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis had always been close friends, even after Gilbert retired to Ludwig's basement. As the younger nation, you remember trailing behind the three like a little sister would, and it appeared the Prussian remembers as well. You open your mouth to give a retort, but his eyes suddenly appear troubled.
"What's with the f-"
"Did something happen between you and Francis?" he asks suddenly, cutting you off.
"W-what?" you choke. Had your face not already been feverish, you would be blushing. Excitement fills his scarlet eyes at your reaction, and you begin to feel even more nauseous.
"Nothing happened."
"You're blushing!"
"It's called a fever, Gilbert."
He pauses, seemingly thrown off. "But," he begins, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "shouldn't Francis be sick too? He kissed you didn't he?"
Could blood rushing to a person's face kill them? If so, you decide you're going to die very soon. "I-it was just on my hand! He was being weird, that's all! B-besides, people d-don't get sick like that!" You babble, nervously bunching your sheets in your hands. The surprise on Gilbert's face makes you feel worse.
"He didn't kiss you on the lips? Or molest you? Not even a little bit? Ksesese, if I didn't know any better, I'd think he likes you," he winks and holds out his hand. Gilbird hops into his palm.
You look down, thoroughly embarrassed. "That's ridiculous. He flirts with everything that moves."
From your peripheral vision, you see Gilbert shrug. "That wasn't flirting, that was a confession." The Prussian stands and walks towards the door. You bite your lip, actually considering the possibility of what he had said while trying to come up with a response. He pauses and looks back, a grin spreading on his face.
"Hm, kissing your hand… does that count as a 'French kiss'?"
Shocked and suddenly quite irked with his idiotic statements, you jump up and snatch a pillow to throw at his head. However, a sudden onslaught of vertigo hits you like a monsoon, causing your vision to blur. You feel your legs give out before everything fades completely into black.