Bullied!PrussiaXReader: Celestial Meeting (2/3)

An audible hiss left Gilbert’s bruised lips and he immediately tore away his hand tending to the wound from the left corner of his eye. At the sudden movement of his jaw, another scarlet fluid dribbled from the cut of his lips to his scraped chin. Frustrated, the snow-haired male inhaled before lifting the blood embedded cotton to his wound. He pursed his lips tightly, bracing the stinging contact of alcohol.

Sure enough, it came sharply. Gilbert attempted to keep his fingers from shaking and the tears from seeping out of his lashes. He directed his focus elsewhere to ease his pain. Of course, he thought of the good memory he had kept in his heart since last year: that celestial meeting with a (h/c) -haired girl.

It had truly been a year since he encountered that (h/c) haired angel and not seeing her after that, was a tragedy on his part. The thought of never seeing her again seemed to signify the pain of the alcohol stinging on his wound.

“Do you want us to take you to the hospital?”

That tender voice from those lips seemed to whisper to Gilbert again. Gradually, he felt himself calm at the sound of those frantic and worried words. “Nein, liebe. It’s just first aid, that’s all,” he quietly and hoarsely replied as though she really was there.

“Are you sure?”

He slowly nodded his head, imagining that face… that genuinely concerned face fussing over his near-death accident. “Ja, liebe, I’m sure,” he whispered.

“Are you sure you don’t have any broken bones or anything?”

The albino faintly smirked, replaying that favorite memory like a monologue performance, “Ja, I’m just that awesome.”

“Whatever you say.”

He heard her giggle, it may have sounded like any human’s laugh but to him, it sounded like an angel’s hiccup.

“You’ll be alright then?”

A small frown set upon his bruised features, causing him to hiss at the biting pain on his eye. Gilbert could see her, right about to turn her back away from him, ready to bid him goodbye.

“Nein, liebe, I won’t be. Don’t go,” he silently pleaded, the crease on his pale brow furrowing deeper and his fingers trembling.

“Hope to see you around then.”

“Nein,” the blood encrusted cotton fell onto the bathroom tiles, “Don’t go.”

Silence…

With that, he gave up on tending to his wounds and clenched his scraped knuckles into fists. He opened his vermilion irises, despising the beaten image reflecting from the mirror. Lifting a balled fist he abruptly dashed the smooth mirror into pieces with uneven distributions of crimson blood. The snow-haired teen knew none heard this, his Vati was drunk and fast asleep and his bruder, Ludwig was asleep two hours ago, (later than he should have for the child was somewhat worried over the wounds his older brother came home with.)

Gilbert trudged over to his bed, trailing droplets of warm fluid from his knuckles. He could feel tiny fragments of glass embedded into his blood stained flesh but he didn’t care anymore as he fell onto his bed.

What’s the point? He’ll never see her again. He felt tricked by the heavens, he felt as though he was being taunted by everything in his well-kept room[1]. Each day, he devoted himself into that impossible hope that one day, he would feel like a human again just like how he felt that fateful day last year. That (e/c) eyed angel made him feel that bliss and he needed her to let him feel it again. Each day, he fantasized about her; he wondered what her name was, what is her last name? At those questions, Gilbert would smirk to himself as he gave her a name, Engel Beilschmidt. Probably not the best name in the world but he liked it. Most of the time, he also would wonder what she was doing now. What is her favorite food? He’d sure cook for her if he had the chance. How was her day? Is she alright? Has anyone given her a bad day? If so, he’d beat that un-awesome bastard. He wondered about her residence. Was it far? Could he visit her if he knew where she lived? Of course he would. No matter where she was. He’d be un-awesome not to visit his liebe. Just give him a state in the country and he’d be running, even barefooted.

“I’ll find you, engel.” Was his promise every time he reminisces about her but right now…

“I’m sorry,” Gilbert whispers, lifting a forearm over his mournful eyes,

”I can’t do it anymore.”

That was the night he gave up. That was the night he reached for his bottom drawer. That was the night he pulled out his Vati’s old pistol gun from his soldier days.

That was the night he decided to show everyone how awesome he was tomorrow.

And like that—life can be lost.

~

“Bruder, what happened to your hand?” an eight-year-old asked the albino as he held his scraped hand.

Gilbert glanced downwards as they slowly neared the classroom. Blue eyes…blue eyes, reflecting the promising sky, gazed in question into his older brother’s red eyes.

Red eyes, reflecting the color of a bloody Hell.

For a moment, Ludwig thought his older brother looked as if he were to cry, as if he was holding on to something, and was ever slowly, slowly slipping. He thought his dear brother would until…

“Kesesese! ~ You wouldn’t believe it if I told you how I fended off that boogieman, Luddy,” chuckled Gilbert, ruffling the little man’s short locks. Ludwig hissed, attempting to comb his hair back in place, “Stop doing that! I thought I told you to stop calling me that too!”

“Aahh, you’re so cute bruder! So much like me!”  The albino knelt before him when they’ve reached the door to the blonde’s classroom. With pale hands, he helped his brother comb his golden locks back. The wolfish grin dispersed into a milder one as he quietly laughed, “But actually, you look so much like father in the old pictures of his cadet days…”

Ludwig’s frown unfurled at the sad smile the egocentric teen gave him; his eyes widened even more as he was enveloped into a bone-crushing embrace.

“I lo-…Ich liebe dich, mein bruder,”

What? The younger Beilschmidt was confused.

“A-Always have a good day and...stay a-awesome.” 

Did he really stutter at the word 'awesome'?