Survival: Part 5

      Three days and three nights had passed. Three days of constant care without end. Prussia had bags sagging under his eyes, using all his might to keep them open. For the first time in days, there was some sort of quiet; Prussia sat, exhausted, by his brother's bedside. The boy's breaths were shallow, that wheezed whenever he exhaled. The skin was a flushed color, even though he shuddered under the mountain of blankets.  Prussia tensely wiped back the blond strands that were bangs. He wanted to keep himself together, but there were times where he just wanted to collapse to the ground and howl in sorrow. But he couldn't. He must stay strong. He must always stay strong.

There was a knock on the door. He jumped up, a surge of energy burst in his veins. It could be France. He might want to kill Holy Rome off if he found out he was still alive.

Prussia grabbed the gun that was hanging from the front door. He peeked out the keyhole.

"Who's there?" He asked suspiciously.

"It's me," came a female voice. "I have the medicine."

He put the gun down and opened the door. Hungary stood in front of him, holding a basket that had a green bottle.

"Is he?" She started.

"I don't know," his eyes tried to hold back the water inside. But he stared straight on at her, the only thing in his life that had nothing to do with any sort of disaster. Those emerald eyes...

"Austria found out about Holy Rome."

He looked up surprised. "How?"

"He followed me the last time I came here."

"That busybody!" He exclaimed. "Always trying to get into everyone's business."

"He's not a busybody! He's genuinely concerned!" Hungary snapped back. "He sends his wishes."

"Bah! What if he tells France?"

"You know as much as I do that Austria hates France. Everyone does," she sighed. "Look, are you sure you don't need any help?"

"Of course not! I can handle this on my own!"

She started towards the door.

"You know Prussia, sometimes it's fine to accept help. Don't be so full of yourself."

"I'm not! I'm strong! Of course I have this!"

"Ok, ok. I better get back. If you don't want me here." She walked over to the bed, kneeling down to caress the boy's cheek. Her hand lightly pressed against the forehead.

"Get well Holy Rome," she whispered. She leaned down and kissed his head. She got up and walked out the door. Prussia watched. A kiss for my brother and not for me? He rolled his eyes.

A while later he woke up Holy Rome for the medicine. The boy was hardly even awake when he took it.  He didn't even react. Prussia took his temperature again. The fever was lower.

Was this good?

He looked down and saw that the boy's breaths were beginning to sound normal. It could be.

The next day, he checked the wound. The stitches had worked miracles: the infection had stopped spreading. Maybe a little more medicine and it would be completely gone.

Holy Rome still slept, almost like a coma. He hardly woke up when Prussia gave him soup or medicine. He slept, not turning, no movement at all. Prussia felt the fear stir inside of him: what if something happened to him? Why was he in this such deep sleep? Was it the exhaustion of the illness?

It was early in the morning when it happened.

Holy Rome slowly opened his eyes. He stared up at the ceiling, getting used to the light.

Prussia rushed over, optimistic. He was awake! He was awake! Maybe the fever was gone! He might be cured!

"West! West! You're finally awake!"

All he got was a blank stare from Holy Rome in return.