AN//This is a Collab I did with the amazing Tricerium. He's a good friend of mine and a great writer. I wrote the first part of this a while ago but didn't have a way to finish it so he finished it for me. Thanks Hun!
⚠️Trigger Warnings: neglect, illness, starvation, mentions of labor camps, choking⚠️
Characters: Gilbert Beilschmidt (Prussia), Ludwig Beilschmidt (Germany), Ivan Braginski (Russia), Alfred F Jones (America), Matthew Williams (Canada), Francis Bonnefoy (France, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo (Spain)
Word Count: 2,159
It had been weeks. The sickness had taken hold of him nearly a month ago and he had spent most of his time down in the basement, skin paling even more than usual and crimson eyes barely able to focus on anything. The albino shivered, pulling the blanket closer to his thin body. A deep breath rattled in his chest before he broke off into harsh, rasping coughs. The fit lasted for several minutes before he could bring himself to breathe again, gasping for air. Tears gathered in his eyes as his lungs finally filled with air, body trembling from the effort of what used to be a seemingly insignificant task.
After taking a moment to fill his lungs, Gilbert shakily pushed himself into a sitting position, coughing hard again and shivering. Why did he need to live downstairs? Why couldn't his brother have noticed his condition and offered him a better room or at least better blankets than the thin sheets he currently had. After taking a moment to calm down again, he slowly stood up, willing his legs not to give out beneath him. The prussian took slow, unsteady steps to the stairs, supporting himself with the wall as he moved. Once Gilbert reached the stairs, he had to pause to catch his breath, disappointment flowing through him. He was supposed to be the kingdom of Prussia! Now he was nothing but a weak being who wasn't even considered a nation anymore. Once he caught his breath from the short trek across the room, he began to slowly ascend the stairs in hopes of getting at least a little something to eat. He had barely eaten all week, only eating what snacks he had in his room. He already felt exhausted and had tears in his eyes.
Finally, step by step, he made it up the stairs and opened the door, nearly falling over as he opened it. Barely, he caught himself on the doorframe and took another moment to steady himself. Once more, he took one step after the other, trying to make it to the kitchen. He knew his brother would be in his office working so he would be alone yet again as he tried to stay upright, tears finally slipping down his cheeks. Why did he need to be so useless? He could barely even get food by himself anymore. He was dying and no one even noticed. Not a word of comfort was spoken to him. No one stopped by to check on him, no calls, no texts, nothing. Maybe he deserved this? He'd hurt so many people, he'd killed so many people. Was this their way of punishing him? He didn't like to think about himself as a bad person, but he knew he was. He had fought and killed people, and he enjoyed it. He liked the feeling of a blade in his hand and the adrenaline of an enemy facing against him.
One more step had his legs giving out beneath him and suddenly he was on the floor, coughing again. All he could bring himself to do was curl in on himself and shiver, trying to get any ounce of warmth he could while pressed against the cold floor. Finally, he heard footsteps coming down the hall and a gasp as he was seen. His little brother came rushing over, pressing his warm hands to the Prussian's frozen skin. Words tried to meet with Gilbert's ears but all he could hear was muffled panic. He was so cold. Why did it have to be so cold?
. . .
Birds chirped, slowly pulling Gilbert's eyes open a sliver. The first thing he noticed was that he was warm. He shifted slowly, holding the thick, warm covers closer to his thin body. It was then he heard the whispering.
"Is he awake?"
"It seems like it."
"Is he ok?"
"He seems to be doing better."
His eyes shut again for just a moment before he opened them again, looking around the bed. There was warm sunlight shining through the window and several people sat around his bed, all whispering urgently to each other. He could recognise all of them. Alfred, Matthew, Luddy, Toni, Fran, and Ivan. The person he reached out to first surprised everyone and Ivan gently took his hand. Everyone always said he was cold and cruel, but Gilbert couldn't agree less. Ivan had been nothing but kind to him ever since they met. He cooked for him, and held him, telling him how perfect he was and almost making him believe it. The Russian gently brought Gilbert's hand to his lips, running his thumb along the albino's knuckles. "How are you feeling?" Ivan asked softly.
Gilbert relaxed as his hand was held, a small smile crossing his lips. "A bit better." He said, ignoring the whispers of the others at the affection being displayed. He couldn't bring himself to care anymore. Everything that had been happening to him was way too overwhelming and the fact that Ivan was beside him again was all he cared about in that moment. "I missed you."
Ivan smiled back at him. "I missed you too, Ptichka." He replied, leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. That seemed to upset some people because Gilbert could feel Ivan getting pushed away from him.
"What the fuck?!" The sharp voice of Ludwig surprised Gil and he flinched a bit. "Why aren't you pulling away from him, why are you saying you missed him?!" The young nation was livid. "He took you away from me and you act like you love him! Do you not remember the wall? Do you not remember what he did to us in the war-"
"Enough!" That was where Gilbert drew the line. Nothing worse could have happened to him than what happened to him in the war. "You don't know what you're talking about. He did everything he could to help me! You were the one who hurt me!" Tears formed in his eyes as he got up from bed, pushing his brother out of the way and catching himself on Ivan's heavy jacket. His eyes closed for a moment as he felt the Russian's strong arms wrap around his thin frame but he opened them again and glared at his little brother. "Don't you DARE talk about him like that when YOUR men were the ones that put me in a goddamn work camp!"
Gasps sounded around the room and Ludwig looked taken aback. "They what..? I swear, I had no choice in the matter, I-I would never do anything like that to you!" He insisted, taking a step back from his irritated brother. "Gil, I had no idea. If I had known, I swear I would have done anything I could to get you out, I.. I'm so sorry that happened to you.."
Gilbert looked away from him, pressing himself closer to his love. "You should have known something was up when I fucking dissappeared for years." The tears finally slipped down his cheeks and Ivan held him closer, gently running his fingers through his hair and trying to help him calm down. "They did so much to me that I wouldn't wish on anyone. They... They ...." He trailed off, beginning to tremble slightly.
Ivan gently shushed him. "It's ok, Ptichka. You don't need to say any more. Just breathe for me. Stay with me." Gilbert nodded slowly, soothed by Ivan's calming gestures and words. "Let's go sit back down, ok? You're doing so well, just focus on me. You don't need to think about anything else, just focus on me." Ivan led the albino back to the bed and helped him sit down. He gently pet the Prussian's hair as he felt him calm down. "Germany, I think you should leave."
Silence. The other countries stared at Ivan in shock of what Ivan had just said with such confidence. "You... What..?" Ludwig trailed off, unable to think of anything else to say. He should be the one to leave? Gilbert was his brother! Why would he leave his own brother? And then it hit him. He already had. All he was doing was making things worse. Besides, if he had actually been a good brother, then Gilbert would already be getting treated. But he wasn't. Slowly, still trying to process things, he stepped away from the bed, making his way to the door. The other nations decided to follow behind him, seeing that Ivan and Gilbert would want some alone time to catch up on what's been happening.
Gilbert sighed as the others left, pressing himself against his love's chest. "I'm sorry I never called you..." He whispered, guilt and sadness in his tone as he was held. "I really wish I could stay with you all the time. I miss you so much. You're always so good to me."
"Shh, it's alright, Ptichka. Everything will be alright. I'm here now, aren't I?" Again, Ivan ran his fingers through Gilbert's hair, the locks feeling greasy and brittle from lack of care. "I'm right here, you don't need to worry." He assured the Prussian, fingers threading through his hair. Worry flashed over his face, the kind Ivan hoped Gilbert wouldn't notice. How long did he have left? Was the country bound to...?
He drew himself away from the thought and looked down, the albino buried into the thick fabric of his coat. An arm around his neck, paling fingers curled into Ivan's scarf. Was he asleep? The Russian bent down to whisper into his hair. "Ya lyublyu vas."
Ivan untangled him and laid him back on the bed. His hand lingered by his head for a moment, calloused thumb brushing against Gilbert's sunken cheek and the scars that were now barely visible. Ivan watched as the Prussian's breaths came in. Shallow and barely lifting the blanket on top of him.
He seems to be doing better.
How bad was he before? What state was Germany keeping Gilbert in to lead to this? He hadn't had time to ask what Germany was doing, Gilbert was already asleep. Ivan's lip twitched up into half a snarl for a moment. Brothers. No, they weren't brothers. If they were, Gilbert would be awake and standing, writing or making a call to Ivan.
Where did that little svoloch go? Ivan stood from the edge of the bed, giving Gilbert a glance before swiftly going out the doors. Soft commerce from the dining hall. Of course, he'd have to do it in public. The Russian slammed the doors open, conversations falling short as the hall grew silent. Russia and Germany made eye contact from across the hall. Glasses were set as Ivan crossed the room in a matter of seconds, grabbing Ludwig by the collar of his uniform. "You tell me what happened, right now. Tell me why Prussia has become as frail and weak as an orphaned child on the streets of St Petersburg."
Ludwig gasped, grabbing at Ivan's wrists. "I don't know what you're talking about,"
"He was strong a year ago, da? What could ever get past the strength of GDR, what happened in a year for the nation to dissolve and send Gilbert into...into illness."
"You're scared, Russia," Ludwig hissed out, wriggling out of his grasp to catch his breath. "I can't believe he even trusts you after those seven years. What did you put in his head, Russia?"
The other nations remained still in silent shock, watching as Germany backed away, Russia only turning to face him again, anger burning in those violet eyes. Evidently, Ludwig's words had no effect on him, or barely any at all, "Nyet, I did nothing to him, unlike you. Answer my damn question, or should I force it from you?"
Germany straightened himself, gloved hand rubbing his neck. "The basement," He finally said, "The German Democratic Republic was in a financial crisis and ultimately, reunification was inevitable. It just seems that he's not meant to represent Germany anymore,"
Francis stepped forward in anticipation, ready to stop Russia from lashing out-But nothing happened. Ivan stood there, looking down at Ludwig with nothing but burning hate. Yet he did nothing, did not speak nor attack the nation. The Russian walked past and back out, trailing down the hall. Matthew flinched at the sound of the door slamming closed as it echoed down the hall.
"The basement, Ptichka?" Ivan whispered as he sat on the edge of the bed once more. He paused. Were the blankets moving?
"Ptichka?" He repeated, louder this time. Nothing.
"Gilbert." The Russian lifted his head slightly, gaze flickering across his face, his other hand pressing against his neck. Nothing. Ivan stared blankly for a moment, lowering the Prussian back onto the bed. He said nothing more, slouching slightly and folding his hands in his lap.
Right there, in the middle of Germany's home, Russia began to sob.
~ ~ ~
Translations:
Nyet (Russian) - No
Ptichka (Russian) - little bird
Ya lyublyu vas (Russian) - I love you
Svoloch (Russian) - bastard