Rusger Oneshots

Patching Up Our Broken Pieces

Hello I'm back! Exams are over! :D

And here's the sequel to Kiss It All Better, Part 3 of the alternate storyline to Cutting, Angst Week No.5!

And It's Very Long. Easily the longest thing I've ever written XD (I may have a small bias on who I prefer to vent through. Russia is nice to project but Germany is just another level of angstiness okay >:3)

Here's a comparison of the previous one to This one. Kiss It All Better is roughly 8000 words long. The part before the Timeskip of This oneshot is already 7353 words long. It is highly recommended by me the writer that you have a small break when you get to said Timeskip, drink some water, just go do something else you should actually be doing instead of reading this for like 5 minutes.

I also wrote this over a period of two months in bits and pieces, so it might not be very smooth or consistent. Tried my best though! I hope you'll still like it!

Extra note: Germany's thoughts are in German. I can't write in German very well and I don't want to make any translation issues so just imagine them in German if you know the language XD

Warnings: Self Harm, Blood(Moderate amount and only a small part), WW2 events and Nazi Germany will make an appearance(As a flashback/memory), Small bit of child abuse. One good paragraph of all caps angry shouting. 

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Germany wakes up like clockwork at the exact same time during weekdays, which was 7 am. And after only finally falling asleep at 5 am early this morning after their whole emotionally spent talk, he felt absolutely exhausted. Far worse than any other time before.

This whole week with him and Russia's problem, he had hardly gotten much sleep at all, the most he got was 3 hours each night, the rest of his time in bed spent on thinking, and then a whole full day of drowning himself in work to try and ignore their problem and his pain. Even for a workaholic like him, this schedule was taking a toll on him.

He had to keep going, though. Even though it still hurt. He still didn't know how to help Russia. He didn't know how to help them both get back to where they were before this whole thing. How could he ever trust Russia in the same way again?

No. Wrong. I should not be thinking that way. He told himself automatically, like he was programmed to say them whoever he did something wrong. 

I do trust him, he's my boyfriend.

The clock struck 7, on the dot, and Germany's eyes fluttered to full awareness, despite the bloodshot and tear stained state they were in. He winced slightly at the uncomfortableness of it all and rubbed them, hand brushing a warm surface as it moved.

Russia was still out cold beside him, laying unmoving on his back as he breathed calmly, features relaxed in sleep. Germany pushed himself into a sitting position, scooting away from his side and shivering slightly from the chill on his body. 

At least he got some of his problems out of his system last night.

But how much, exactly? How many more layers of problems and trauma did he have to beg and plead and ask Russia to tell him so that he could try to help him? Why couldn't he just be upfront with them? Why does he still hide them away, when time and time again he had told him that he wanted to help him?

No. Wrong. I should not be thinking that way.

Germany scrubbed at his face and forced his sore body to move. He needed to shower, and get ready for work. But his eyes strayed to Russia again, and he stared at his boyfriend's own tear-stained face, which had dried overnight and now just formed a crusty layer over his skin.