Prussia felt sick. So, incredibly sick. His skin was even paler than usual, his lips dry and cracked. He could feel the sweat dripping down his forehead, but he was freezing cold. His thoughts were groggy, almost like he was drunk. His body ached with pain. He looked around his new room slowly. It was better than his last one, the walls plastered and painted, an actual bed, a table, chairs, more light, even a bathroom attached to it. He was too sick to care.
Something was wrong with his country. Something was very, very wrong. He turned his head slowly to the door as he heard Russia's familiar boot-step.
"What-" The dry crack in his voice almost scared him, "What do you want."
"You're dying." Russia walked up to him slowly, sitting beside him, a bowl of water and a cloth in his hand. He touched Gil's face with the cold wet cloth as gently as he could.
Prussia relaxed a little. The touch was comforting, even coming from Russia.
"What's happening?" Prussia whispered, pressing his hand into his heaving stomach. He'd never been this sick. Russia was right, he was dying. He looked up at Russia weakly.
Russia sighed, "Your people are running away. They're leaving you to go and be with your brother."
Good. Let them go. He tried to take a deep breath, ending up in a fit of coughing. Russia waited patiently until his breathing slowed to normal and his lungs stopped rattling.
"GDR, your boss, and mine have decided on a plan to keep you alive."
Gil looked up at him again, too weak to ask what the plan was.
"You're not going to like it, but you'll live. It's what's best for you."
Prussia shook his head, "Wait... what... what is-"
"That doesn't matter, not right now. What matters is that you stay alive."
It almost sounded like Russia cared. Prussia didn't believe him. He nodded weakly.
You do what you have to do to stay alive His brother's words rang through his mind.
"All I need you to do is sign here." Russia held out a paper and pen to him. "Your boss already ordered it."
Prussia took the pen weakly. He didn't bother to read the paper, despite his better judgment. He was too weak. He didn't care. As long as he stayed alive, though, at this point, death was almost as welcome.
"Are you hungry?" Russia asked, kindly, taking the paper and pen back from him.
He nodded weakly
"I will send someone down with food for you then," Russia smiled, standing. "I know you will be feeling much better, very soon."
Prussia looked away again, coughing hard. He was so tired. All he wanted was to slip away into unconsciousness, but it was a gift he couldn't seem to manage to grab onto. He was unsure how much time was passing, it felt like hours. His lungs shook with each breath, his chest too painful to touch. Faintly, he heard footsteps coming into his room. He looked up.
Lithuania. He sighed. Of all the people Russia could send to bring him food. It had to be Lithuania. He watched as Toris set the tray of food down on the table beside the bed. He turned to leave.
"So. You still hate me?" Prussia's voice crackled, he tried to clear his throat, triggering another coughing fit. He turned to see Lithuania hadn't moved since Prussia had spoken.
"I don't hate you," Lithuania whispered. "I... I just..." He sighed, turning to look at Prussia again, "Some things are hard to forgive."
Prussia nodded, looking at Lithuania's face. He saw pity in the kind green eyes. He figured he must look like a mess.
