"You're not answering my question, West," Gilbert said dangerously into the phone, his annoyance slipping through the receiver and threading into his brother's ear. Last night's ordeal left him shaky and completely weak. After Gilbert had screamed his throat raw, shouting in German, then English, then back again, a handful of nurses and a few doctors had rushed toward him. Quickly, he had explained to them the extremely dire situation and they forced him from the room. He was left outside to wait – once more – while the shuffling and mumbling from inside the room was the only thing his scrambled thoughts could focus on. And when they all came out, the one doctor said in a huff, "He's alive." Gilbert couldn't even explain the feeling that overtook him at this, and he grudgingly thanked the man; afterward, he settled into one of the waiting room's chairs to stay awake through an excruciatingly long, sleepless night. Only this morning was he allowed the phone, and only this morning was he allowed to contact his lifeline. Though that lifeline wasn't exactly helping; by it dodging questions and giving skimpy answers.
Ludwig, thousand of miles away – which was only the minimum safety distance from a ticked off Prussian – winced. The poor German hadn't seen it coming. This was such a hard subject that he was being asked to breach into. He had never felt anything like this, anyway; unless he had when he had been a child, but he didn't remember his childhood at all. "Gilbert, I…"
"Just answer the question!" The silverette was beginning to earn rather curious looks from others in the waiting area, but he honestly couldn't care at the moment. "Is it possible for a country's person to die from injuries that have nothing to do with the country itself?"
He was starting to get annoyed. His brother calls him up in the middle of his paperwork to only vaguely explain his situation, and then bombards him with questions. Ludwig didn't like it, so he decided just to be outright and direct with it. "It's never happened before, but I'm sure it's possible! If the country's representation dies, then they can just get another one." He huffed, and crossed his arms, holding the phone tightly between the side of his head and his shoulder.
There was silence on both side of the line before Gilbert acutely snapped, "That's not fair!"
"It doesn't have to be fair; it just is what it is..." He put the phone in his left hand then, and used his other hand to continue filling out his papers. Multi-tasking was such a wonderful invention. "Why are you asking me this, anyway? Did you get hurt?" He didn't believe this one lick; his brother's voice was so lively, albeit hoarse, and he didn't sound fatally injured at all. And, even if he was that hurt, he wasn't even a country's person anymore… so why would he... His thought process began to tangle amongst itself in knots.
"…No," Gilbert said reluctantly. "It's not me."
"Then who is it?!" Honestly, if this was a prank, Ludwig would be sure to find out exactly where his brother had run off to and…
The Prussian allowed a saddened sigh. "Even if I told you, you wouldn't know him…"
"What do –?"
"Trust me," Gilbert mumbled distantly, before hanging up and leaving his brother with many questions.
Gilbert had grown used to that overly-cheery voice by now that slightly mispronounced his foreign surname. He had been loyally stationed at the hospital for a week, and heard the nurse's voice often. He had canceled his trip home for Tuesday – now, he didn't know when he would ever go home. And as for that voice… why was she always so bright? What was there to be bright for at a hospital?! Maybe she was just constantly ignorant to the torture and pain revolving around her, or maybe she had been trained to be the single optimistic light in an otherwise dreary building. Whatever the reason, Gilbert didn't like it. "What?"
They didn't need to use any names – there was only one person Gilbert was there for. He looked up at her from his seat. Was she being serious? How… why… he strangled and buried any questions before they could arrive in his conscious. He stood almost excitedly, trying to keep his face impassive and his mind blank. "Alright," he confirmed with his voice only a bit choked on cursed emotions. He was able to lead himself to the room, having gone there by himself so many immeasurable times before. The stairs he had to take to get there seemed too long this time, as if laughing at his slow speed of mobility, or trying to keep that string of his future right out of his touch…
The door didn't seem as ordinary or pointless as he stared at it this time. It held something so precious behind it that Gilbert was hazily surprised that it didn't glow. Maybe it did, but his vision could have been too obscured to notice. He took the door handle in his hand, and the 'click!' it made as it opened was awfully comforting for such a small noise. He eased it open, for he wasn't rushing.
Matthew's posture was different, and that was the first thing Gilbert took notice of. Instead of lying flat on his back, with his right arm on his chest in a sling, and the other drooping off the side of the bed, he was sitting fully up, and his left hand was covering his eyes as everything calmed in his mind. Matthew himself didn't notice his friend's entrance until he was standing beside him.
When Matthew dropped his hand from his face, all his eyes focused on first was a figure dressed in clothes familiar to his own… "G-Gilbert?!" His voice sounded so strange and garbled; instead of the light, easy tone it usually held, it was slightly raspy. Maybe it was from the lack of water, he didn't know. His throat was terribly dry.
"The one and only."
Gilbert's voice was off, too, the bloody blonde noticed. It was cool and lifeless. He decided he didn't like it at all. "Wh-… What's wrong?" He leaned forward as far as his chest would allow him to. The cloth wrapped around his upper body was so tightly bound…
A confused look passed over Gilbert. "What on earth are you talking about?" He exclaimed with his old fervor and emotion seeping through and poking at the surface of his voice. "You're the one in a hospital, and you're asking about me?!"
Matthew placed his teeth against his lip, not biting for fear he might hurt the tender flesh. "But… you… you've got bandages around your head!" He reached up with his good hand, delicately brushing the tips of his fingers against the white material.
The Prussian grabbed that hand lightly – lightly, for fear of breaking it – and said, "It's nothing." He realized that if he continued to hold that pale and skinny hand, it would be considered a… well, something very personal that he couldn't place; though if he let go, would it be a dismissal, or something of the sort? But he didn't have a chance to decide upon an action, because Matthew let his hand go.
And then, the blonde grasped it again, this time lacing their fingers together. He offered a timid and careful smile, hoping and praying that the contact would be accepted.
Gilbert stared down at the digits for a while, hearing the fast pace of the heartbeat monitor matching with the accelerated pace of his own heart. He looked into those wide purple orbs and said plainly and solemnly, "Why."
The Canadian's thoughts stalled, and his expression fell. "I don't –"
"Why did you push me away from that car?" Gilbert clarified unnecessarily.
Matthew made something like a whining noise in the back of his throat. "I… why do I have to answer this now, I just woke –"
He bent his head. The blonde didn't feel confused about his answer – he could explain it all in three little words – but it was too nerve-racking, all of this was. It was an admission, a submission, a confession… everything, in one little sentence. Lying didn't even cross his mind. He took a quivering breath that hurt more than it should have and slowly explained, "I didn't want to see you hurt… I, I just thought… well, I don't think…" Getting flustered, he thought, should be his trademark. "I don't think I could live without you, honestly." After a few minutes to let the dust settle and the hearts calm, Matthew looked up. He was greeted with such warm eyes that his heart began skipping again.
"Love you too," Gilbert said, pressing his lips experimentally to his friend's. The dried blood on Matthew's mouth tasted silvery on the Prussian's lips when he pulled back. It made guilt pull at his mind once again, and he watched carefully for Matthew's reaction.
The Canadian seemed seriously dazed with his eyes wide and staring distantly and his mouth hung open like a flytrap. His thoughts swirled around in a cloud within his mind, as if held behind a distorted and textured glass. When reality became to him, he involuntarily whispered, "Wow."
Gilbert laughed openly. His head hurt from this, and his heart relaxed. There was time for harsh questions later. Right now, he would focus on his favorite little Matthew. "Ha ha; I know. I get that reaction a lot."
Matthew blushed, swatting at the Prussian with his good arm. "That's not funny."
A/N: D'awww. Such a cheesy ending, eh? I just couldn't help myself. ...But aren't you glad I didn't kill him off? In the song, the person dies... I almost did kill him, too, but... then I didn't. P:
Cookies for anyone who notices the many ironies/symbols/key words within this story~!
-bows- Thank you for your time. R&R!