Unraveling the World | HetaOni (Hetalia x Mute!Reader)

13 - two holes

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SPAIN

Spain's eyes were constantly torn between Romano and Italy. His two brothers, though not by blood.

He knew his anguish was nothing compared to Romano's and yet he was still struggling to stay out of his head. It was like someone had punched a hole in his chest-

No, that wasn't it. It wasn't one, but two holes. One- his own pain. Two- Romano's pain, that he had to watch secondhand.

His hands absentmindedly wiped at the blood on his hands and sleeves that had stained them earlier when he was trying to stop the bleeding. It was soon clear that they needed supplies to cover and apply pressure to the wound properly. He was thankful that they already had a base set up and ready with medical supplies to bat.

They had made it quickly to the room. Within seconds the medical supplies were on hand and China was setting up a cot for Italy. As Germany strode toward the cot with Italy in his hold, Spain allowed himself to look at Romano, to see his condition, to read him like no one else could.

His head was lowered, his posture rigid. The expression on his face was torn between grief and anger.

Every time Italy was hurt, Romano had described it as excruciating pain- mental, physical, emotional (though he didn't admit the last part aloud, it was clear it was true). Italy hadn't actually died, not this time, but Spain knew that it was different seeing it almost happen before your own eyes.

Spain moved to reach out to Romano, to comfort him, when something smaller yet solid bumped into him from the side mid-stride- it was the girl, he realized.

They both swayed, unbalanced. Spain threw out his arms and catch her before she could fall backwards and hurt herself.

"Are you-?" He began to ask, but then recoiled at the look on her face.

"Is he alive? Is he alive?" She signed wildly while mouthing the words. It took him several seconds to understand. He was distracted by the tears streaming down her face.

"Si(1)- I mean yes, he is. He is alive, he's just unconscious. Are you alright?" His voice was soft- the voice of man speaking to a cornered, cowering animal.

The girl didn't respond. She had stopped looking at him. He followed her gaze back over his shoulder to where Germany was laying Italy down on the table. The new angle made the damage more visible, especially now that China was removing his shirt.

"Don't look," Spain suddenly said. He pulled her head down onto his shoulder and embraced her, turning the two of them so that the table was now out of her range of sight. "It's a lot of..." Blood, he thought to himself. Instead of saying the word, he let his sentence trail off. "Anyway, he'll be just fine, I promise, chica(2)."

He felt her shake her head against him, disagreeing- but with which part, he wasn't sure. Then she wiggled out of his grasp and drew back to wipe her eyes.

Spain got a good look at her then. Tired, dull-eyed, and miserable. He couldn't make out her age- she looked somehow old and young at the same time.

She drew up her slumped shoulders deliberately and took in an unsteady breath. Then she turned and headed directly for the table.

Spain stared after her, surprised. He caught then eyes with Romano a couple of feet away who stared at him and then at the girl's back questioningly. Spain could only shrug in response and gestured for them to follow her to the table.