A/N: I know that I should be working on Broken Heart, but this plot came to me and I just couldn't concentrate on anything. I don't know when or if I'll update (though I most likely will), but for now, enjoy this.
As usual, Austria sat in his music room, playing the piano. He had just gotten back to his home after the World Meeting, which had been, like always, utter chaos.
Ever the gentleman, he had taken up England's offer to make him lunch. (He honestly didn't know why the man had asked; they weren't close.) He had heard the stories of how England's cooking was terrible and that other nations who had dared try it had become ill, but he tried it anyway.
And the food had been… decent. Oh, who was he kidding? The food had been awful, but he didn't think that he would get ill from it.
He glanced at the old grandfather clock and observed that it was getting late. He decided to retire for the night.
Little did he know of what was to come.
Austria woke up slowly and in his groggy mind, wondered why he woke up when he comprehended that it was still dark out. A second later, he was hit with nausea and agonizing cramps.
He groaned and curled up, as if that would alleviate the pain. It did help a bit and he was able to fall back into sleep albeit fitful.
When he woke up again hours later, he felt no better. In fact, he felt worse. At that moment, the worst thing possible happened: Prussia showed up. ('How does he get into my house?' Austria wondered vaguely.)
"Yo, Specs, Awesome is here!" He yelled, causing Austria to wince and moan.
The aristocrat endeavored to sit up, but fell back to the pillows as a wave of vertigo washed over him. His stomach lurched and he clasped a hand over his mouth, gagging and close to vomiting.
"Roddy? You okay?" Gilbert asked, seeing that the Austrian was quite pale. He walked over to the bed. (He was confused as to why the piano player was still in bed at noon; he was always up by seven.)
Austria promptly threw up all over Prussia.
"That was totally unawesome, Roddy," Prussia whined after he had cleaned the vomit from himself. He had nearly barfed too when the smell of it had wafted up to his nose.
Roderich was currently curled up, arms wrapped around his ailing stomach. He felt too sick to care about what the obnoxious albino was saying. All he wanted to do at the moment was to go to sleep and never wake up again. He was cursing England and his cooking. He now believed all the stories that the other countries had told him, and he was never going to eat anyone else's food but his own again.
"Hey, are you even listening to me, Roddy? Roddy? Hello?"
"Please be quiet," the Austrian whispered, too exhausted to talk any louder.
"You're just being a wuss, Specs!" Prussia complained.
Austria didn't have the patience for this. Forgetting he was ill for a moment, he launched himself at the Prussian. He lashed out at the man with all his might. After a few seconds, his body reminded him of his predicament and nausea spread through his abdomen once more. He clasped a hand over his mouth and ran towards the bathroom.
Once there, he sank to his knees and heaved. He had not even had time to close the door behind him. He retched again and again; there appeared to be no end to it. Even when his stomach was empty, his gagging continued as painful dry heaves that made the muscles of his torso spasm.
Eventually, he was able to stop and he collapsed to the ground, thoroughly spent. He wanted to just stay there for the rest of the day; the tiles were cool and felt good against his hot and aching forehead. However, the albino picked him up bridal style and brought him back to the bed. He protested at first, but as soon as his head hit the pillow, he let out a content sigh and fell asleep shortly thereafter.
Prussia was worried about Austria. The piano player was rarely ever sick. In fact, the last time the albino had seen Roderich ill had been after World War I nearly one hundred years before The effects of the war, especially Elizabeta divorcing him had taken a toll on the aristocrat. The Austrian had been nearly catatonic and had then had an emotional breakdown. He remembered that day as if it had occurred yesterday.
For once in his long existence, Prussia decided to be polite and knock on Austria's door. To be frank, he really didn't know what possessed him to do it, but there he was, standing outside of the aristocrat's house, waiting for someone to open it.
Had he known the state that the Austrian was in, he would never have come. He had come to complain to Roddy about having no longer been a kingdom. (He was just a free state now, damnit!) He knew that the man had just divorced his wife, but he didn't think the piano player would be much affected by simply because he didn't believe that Roderich had ever really loved Hungary.
Well, he was about to find out just how wrong he was.
A maid that Prussia recognized ambiguously opened the door and said, "Oh, Mister Prussia! Please, help Mister Austria! He is not well at all," the poor girl was near tears, Prussia could tell.
"What's wrong with Specs?" he inquired.
"The collapse of his empire was too much for him, especially Miss Hungary's departure. He is devastated. Oh, Mister Prussia, it's horrible! He hasn't left his room in days! He hasn't eaten or slept in that time as well. Please, help him! I've tried and it hasn't worked. I believe that you can help him. Please, I beg you!"
"Alright," Prussia declared, "The awesome me will help Roddy!"
The servant girl nodded thankfully and led the albino through the house and Prussia's eyes widened at how empty it was.
The girl seemed to notice his looks and replied, "We had to sell most things. The economy is in shambles, another reason why Mister Austria is ill."
"Oh," was all the silver haired man could say; he was dumbfounded. He couldn't believe that the piano player who had once been so rich was now in poverty.
When they reached the door that would lead Gilbert to his Roddy (Whoa, when had the Austrian become his?), he hesitated. He didn't know just how bad of a state Austria was in. He decided against knocking this time and just barged in the room yelling, "Hey Specs! The embodiment of Awesome is here!" To see if he could get a reaction out of the man, but it appeared not to work since he didn't hear anything.
He found the man sitting in the chair by the window, ostensibly gazing at the scenery out the window, but the Prussian could tell that the piano player was far away from the garden just outside.
He put a hand on the other man's shoulder, effectively gaining the aristocrat's attention. The man jumped and turned to face Prussia, eyes wide. Tears began cascading down the man's cheeks and he collapsed. He would have fallen to the floor had it not been for Gilbert catching him. Sobs racked his thin frame and all Gilbert could do was hug the man, acting as his only support.
He really looked at the man then. His cheeks were hollow and his eyes sunken in and dead looking like he had given up on life. The clothes that normally fit him just right were hanging loose. His face was almost as pale as Prussia's and that was hard to accomplish.
Suddenly, he spoke, making Gilbert jump.
"I l-loved h-h-her!" He screamed, "a-and s-she l-l-l-left me!"
"Shhh," Prussia whispered in a rare moment of him giving comfort, "I know. I know how much you're hurting right now."
"No you don't! You don't know anything about love! You're just a heartless monster!"
"Believe me. I know what you're going through. My love left me as well," Prussia sighed sadly.
"Who was it?" the fatigued aristocrat queried, but he was asleep before he could receive an answer.
"You…" he whispered to the sleeping man.
He suddenly became angry. Angry at Elizabeta, at Ludwig, at the allies, but he was positively furious with himself. If only he had been stronger. He would have been able to protect Roddy from this suffering. Roderich was too delicate to have to experience this. If only Prussia had been able to fight better.
He couldn't look at Roderich without getting even angrier at himself to the point where he wanted to hurt something. So, he did the cowardly thing and left Roddy all alone. He would regret it for the rest of his life.
The next time Prussia had seen the man, he had been in a wheelchair. He had never felt so remorseful in all his many centuries.
He heard a whimper from the bed and he looked up to see if Specs was awake, but he was still sleeping. His face was scrunched up like he was in pain, though and that made Prussia concerned. He placed a hand on the man's forehead and gasped. He was burning! Gilbert, being as awesome as he was, found a thermometer and took Austria's temperature. His eyes widened when he saw the reading: forty degrees Celsius!
"Mein Gott!" he gulped. That was rather high.
Roderich began to toss and turn in his sleep, mumbling incoherently. His face precipitously twisted in terror and he shrieked, "NO!" He sat up abruptly and started heaving. Luckily, there was nothing left in his stomach so he didn't make a mess. Tears were falling down his face as he continued to be sick.
When he was able to stop retching, he once again fell back onto the pillows, too weak to stay up. Gilbert could see that his eyes were clouded over in delirium.
"Eliza…" he rasped, "Why did you leave me? I gave you everything you wanted and more. I know I may not have been the most affectionate guy, but I really did try to show you that I loved you."
Prussia knew what needed to be done; he had to pretend to be Hungary. How he was going to achieve that, he had no idea, but he had to try. "Roderich," he began, making his voice higher, "I left because I had to. I know that you loved me. You didn't need to be loving all the time for me to see that. It's just that it wasn't fair to you because I never was in love with you. Sure I loved you, but not in that way. I left because I wanted you to find someone who would love you in a way I could not. I hope you can forgive me, Roderich."
"I never was angry with you, Eliza. There is nothing to forgive." Austria whispered, "Will you kiss me one last time, please?"
"Of course," was Prussia's immediate reply. He wouldn't give up the opportunity to kiss his beloved.
Their lips met in a passionate kiss. Gilbert's mind was screaming at him that this, taking advantage of the Austrian in his weakness was wrong, but his heart was telling him to just keep going. He ended the kiss rather unwillingly after a while and said, "I have to go, Roderich. Don't ever mention this again if you remember it, okay? Even to me."
"Ja, I won't breathe a word of it to anyone."
"Good. Goodbye, Roderich. Get some sleep."
Prussia felt guilty again.
The next time Austria woke up, he felt much better. Sure, he was still relatively queasy, but he didn't feel much like vomiting anymore. His stomach muscles were fairly sore from their workout the previous day, though.
"Note to self: never eat England's cooking again, or anyone else's for that matter."
"So that's why you were so sick! Huh, maybe you're not such a pansy after all. That was pretty brave of you!"
"More like stupid," Austria grunted as he rose from the bed, clutching his agitated gut.
"Hey! I've tried that man's cooking before!"
"I rest my case."
"Hey! At least my food poisoning wasn't as bad as yours. What did you eat anyway?"
"Honestly, I couldn't tell you what I ate. It was nothing I recognized and it was all burnt which was all I could taste."
"Well, you're lucky you had the awesome me looking after you! You could've been dead."
"I highly doubt that I was near death."
"Specs, your fever got so high that you were delirious. You thought that I was Elizabeta. And then, just a few hours ago I had to give you an ice bath. Your temperature went down after that, luckily. All thanks to the awesome me of course!"
Roderich's eyes widened at the mention of 'Elizabeta' and 'ice bath'. "You didn't do anything, did you?"
"Of course not! Awesome would never take advantage of an ailing person! But, he would take advantage of a healthy person…" Gilbert then proceeded to jump on top of Roderich and kiss him senseless.
And Roderich actually enjoyed every minute of it.
Well, that's the end of my story; hope you enjoyed it. Please review!
This is rather random, but I was listening to this song called "The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia" and there's a line that goes, 'little sister don't miss when she aims her gun' and I couldn't help but think of Belarus.
Anyway, bye guys!