literature

Cold Hands And Bleeding Hearts

Deviation Actions

FreedomsChance's avatar
Published:
110 Views

Literature Text

With a disapproving hum, Germany stared down at the papers before him. To say that there were a lot of them was a huge understatement; the tall blond couldn't see even an inch of the smooth wood of his desk. He raked a hand over his carefully slicked back hair, allowing a few strands to come free from their hold and fall over his eyes.

Suddenly, a timid knock came at Germany's office door, and he sighed, looking up from his work to see Italy open the door and peek in, smiling that familiar smile when he saw Germany was indeed sitting at his desk. With another sigh, Germany sat down his pen, knowing he wouldn't get any work done if Italy was there.

"What is it, Italy?" Germany asked, getting to t the point quickly in the hopes of getting back to his works soon.

"Hey Germany?" The Italian's voice was strangely quiet and timid sounding. "I have a hypothetical question for you."

"What is it?"

"What if I had to go away? What would you do?"

The question was surprising, and Germany paused, thinking over the question in his mind, trying to make sense of it. However, he could make neither heads nor tails of the odd question, and he quickly decided that in order to answer the question truthfully, he would need to secure more information.

"Well…" Germany said, thinking still. "Where are you going and why are you leaving?"

The Italian gave a bit of a shrug. "If I… died, I guess."

At these words, Germany frowned slightly. His first instinct was to ask where Italy had gotten this sort of question from, but looking at the redhead in front of his desk, he could tell that Italy was actually looking for an answer to what he had just asked.

"If you were to die…" Germany thought about it for a moment. If his little Italian boyfriend were to pass away, how would he react? He decided to be as truthful as he could, see as he could tell that was what the Italian wanted. He looked down, unseeing, at the papers on his desk. "Honestly, I just might kill myself. But even if I were to do that, I wouldn't see you. I would burn…"

"You can't kill yourself!" Ital blurted out, looking shocked at what he had heard.

"Hm…" Germany hummed thoughtfully. He stood from his desk, making his way over to where his Italy was standing, still looking rather stunned.

"I want you to promise me, Ludwig." Italy's use of his human name surprised Germany. "Promise that if something were to happen to me, you would never take your own life!"

"No." Germany said clearly. If Italy were to die, he could make no promises about what he would or would not do.

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?" Italy began to cry.

"You can't make me."

"Please?"

"No, Italy!" Germany said firmly.

The redhead sat heavily in a nearby chair, arms wrapped around his middle tightly and leaned forward slightly, tears cascading in shimmering rivers on his cheek. Italy took a deep breath, which caught in his throat and made him cough.

Germany kneeled before the chair, tilting Italy's chin up so his honey brown eyes were forced to meet Germany's steely blue ones. To be frank, Italy's behavior was rather surprising, and Germany was beginning to wonder if someone had told Italy that he wouldn't care if the redhead were to die.

"Stop." Germany ordered. "You can't change my mind. Calm down and think for a moment. How would you feel, how would you act, if I were to die?"

Italy's answer, surprisingly, was instant. "I'd miss you, Luddy, with every bit of my heart. But, I think I'd want to live for you, even though I would never fall in love again." It sounded as though Italy had thought about this.

"Well, I wouldn't be able to take it." Germany said, heart squeezing as he thought back to the time when he had almost lost Italy.

"You're stronger then me, Luddy." Italy's voice had grown soft, quiet. "We all know it. If I could live on, I believe that you could, too."

"I could." Germany allowed, inclining his head slightly. "But that does not mean I will."

The tears began to fall down Italy's cheeks once again. "What would you gain by killing yourself?!" he cried, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning over again so that his bright red hair fell in front of his face, hiding it from view.

"As much as living without you."

Silence fell suddenly, both nations looking rather stunned at the words that came from Germany's mouth, words saturated with raw truth and painful honesty, words that seemed to weight the air in the room. Germany hadn't meant for such a deeply buried truth to come out, but, in regards to the situation, it slipped out.

It took Italy a moment before he said something else. "If you killed yourself, we'd never be together again." He said, reminding Germany that the little redhead's nation was highly religious. "Besides, even nations will someday come to an end. Nothing can last forever, right?"

"If you died, we still wouldn't." Germany pointed out logically. As nations, unless they were murdered, they had indefinite life spans.

With no answer from Italy, other then the sounds of his renewed crying, Germany gave a deep, bone weary sigh. He wasn't sure really what was going on, but Italy's behavior was honestly starting to frighten him a little.

"Italy… I…" Germany broke off, not really sure what he was trying to say, sighing again. "I just…" Germany gave up. Obviously whatever he had been trying to say wasn't going to come out.

However, this caught Italy's attention. He looked up at the vaguely agitated German, peering through his red bangs. "What is it Germany?"

"Nothing…" Germany muttered. "It doesn't matter. Not really."

"Tell me." Italy said, voice slightly whiney.

"No. Just forget it."

"Please?"

"No!" Germany said, almost yelling it and making the redhead jump in surprise. "I said forget it!"

Italy's honey eyes were instantly hidden again as the Italian returned his gaze to his lap, where tears made wet spots on the fabric, and his quiet sobs caused another cough, this one sounding rather painful, to escape. Overall, the redhead looked rather pathetic, and Germany sighed, kneeling in front of the Italian and pressing their foreheads together.

"You're here right now." Germany said, lowering his voice to be soothing, but with a strong inner agitation. He was now sure that that something was wrong. "You're here now, and you're not dead. That's what matters now. The thought of that changing is unbelievable. You can't just… I ca—" Germany made a sound of frustration and stood.

He turned away from Italy and heard a quiet whimper, almost as though the Italian had not meant to let the sound escape.

"I can't deal with this, Italy. This whole thing is… killing me." Again, Germany was surprised at the unexpected truth that escaped. "I feel like you're actually… going away."

There it was again. That feeling deep in the pit of his stomach that something was terribly wrong, something he didn't want to even think about, something that he prayed to any and every god was wrong. And it didn't help that Italy was not answering him. Every sniff, every sob sent a spike of fear through his heart.

Germany forced himself to take a deep breath, letting it out slowly, before crouching in front of Italy once again. "You're not leaving, right?"

It was clear that Italy was crying too hard to speak. Then the Italian choked for a second on his breath, making him cough continuously between breathless sobs. He still sat facing his lap, hiding his face from view.

"Please answer!" Germany said, an edge of panic to his voice now. "At least try to answer! That's an order!"

Finally, he got a response from Italy. But it was a simple shaking of his head, side to side, whipping his red locks around more then providing a sufficient answer to Germany's question. Italy took a deep breath, apparently trying to calm himself, and rubbed at his eyes roughly to dry the tears.

"Not so rough." Germany scolded halfheartedly, trapping Italy's small wrists in one hand and gently wiping at the tears with the other.

The action was futile though, for the Italian hid behind his hair again at Germany's touch, looking down so Germany could not see his lover's face. Between Italy's sobs and occasional coughs, Germany could hear the redhead mumbling quiet apologies.

"You don't have to apologize." Germany said in his best attempt to be gentle. You don't need to cry either. Please, stop crying."

"Yes… I do deserve to cry…" Italy's answer surprised Germany, who hadn't been expecting any kind of response from the obviously distraught Italian.

"Why's that?" Germany asked. Italy finally looked up again.

Germany's breath caught and his stomach dropped. Tears stained Italy's fair skinned cheeks, which appeared even paler in comparison to the shockingly red blood that was smeared across the bottom half of Italy's face, thickest and freshest at his lips. There was a twisted, bitter smile stretching those bloody lips.

"I'm so sorry…"

"Wha-What happened to you…?" Tears pricked at the corners of Germany's eyes, which were wide open in horror. "Where is the… the blood coming from?!"

Italy stood, turning away from Germany as he spoke. "My lungs, Luddy. My throat." Thin shoulders, encased in that familiar blue uniform, shook with withheld tears.

"You're bleeding on… the inside." Germany did something he had never done before. He buried his face in his hands, not wanting to see the blood, the tears, and the sad look in his lover's eyes. He only hid for a moment, just trying to bring back even a shred of his self control. Then he straightened, pulling out his phone to call an ambulance.

"No don't!" Germany was surprised when Italy lunged at him, stealing the phone and ending the call before the phone could even ring. "Germany, please don't! They… They can't help me."

"YOU'LL DIE IF I DON'T DO SOMETHING!" Germany yelled as the prickling in his eyes turned into a kind of burning sensation.

Italy shook his head slowly, firmly. "It'll stop soon enough. It always does." The sureness in Italy's voice was terrible.

"How do you know?" Germany's voice had dropped to a pained whisper, and a few tears trickled down his cheeks. "This time it could be different."

"I knew this was going to happen." Italy said, painfully honest.

"Then why haven't you done anything to prevent it?!" the words snapped out, even though Germany was not really angry.

"I can't." Italy was now only half a foot away from Germany, his bright honey eyes begging for Germany to understand. "I've been trying to stop it for the last decade. Trust me… If anything could be done, I would have done it."

Germany felt rather desperate. "There has to be something!" he said frantically. "Something, anything that should be able to help, right?!"

"Nothing, Ludwig!" Feliciano shouted before breaking down into tears again. A painful cough tore through his throat as he cried. "There is nothing to stop this."

"Then why does it keep happening?!" Germany demanded of the sobbing Italian, even though his gut told him he really didn't want to hear the answer to that question.

Italy looked to the side, avoiding Germany's eyes as he whispered; "Because it's just…" the Italian broke off as though the words were painful.

"Just what?"

Those honey eyes were filled with anguish as they met Germany's still rather teary blue ones, the Italian's bloody chin trembled. "Oh Germany, I really don't want to say it!"

"Answer my question, please!" Germany said, the words barking out in the commanders way that Italy had to obey. Germany needed to hear this from Italy's own mouth if he was going to be able to believe it.

"I'm going to die!" Italy whimpered. "It's going to get worse and worse, and I'm going to die!"

To be Continued...
My story. It's uploaded on my fanfiction.net, username Harmony Delaceur. Check it out, please let me know what you think. Please. Bitte. Per favore. Por favor.
© 2013 - 2024 FreedomsChance
Comments1
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
KnKnyah-Endias's avatar
Eh?! W-what's wrong with Ita? :icondonthurtawesomeplz: