🌻 rusger oneshots | countryhumans 🌻

27 | my own voice

🇩🇪: male
🇷🇺: male
angst
⚠️ mentions of TR , very vague mention of suicidal thoughts⚠️
————

        you say i am disgusting.

        you say i am a mistake.

       you say i am a freak.

       you say that you tell me the truth,
      because you are the only one who can see.

       but you are blind, vater. you are so blind.

       you are oblivious; to the possible, the impossible, and the inevitable. you are oblivious; to the muffled cries and to the screams of pain. you only hear the chanting of your name. you only hear the words of praise. you only hear the thanks and gratitude for a deed you have never truly done.

       you are blind.

       you called me weak. you tore me down because i could not stand on more than my own two legs. you taught me to lie and to kill, you taught me to deceive and to destroy, you taught me to drown it all out, because the suffering is only temporary.

        you said i am not enough. you said i am a wrongdoing, you said i was simply an accident. you said i would never amount to anything, because the only worth i might ever have is my voice, to manipulate and to use.

      you said i'm a disappointment. maybe i am.

      you said to drown it out, didn't you?

      then why can i still hear you?

      why can i hear you when i can't even hear myself?

      no, vater. my losses have taught me more than you ever could. you are now simply a voice in my head, a small fraction of my mind. i wish you would leave, but i know that hoping is useless. when has hoping ever done me any good?

      so i tell you again, vater. you are blind.

      you don't know me.

      you don't know me.

      get out of my head.

     you don't fucking know me.

      
~

      "germany?"
     "germany?!"
     "come on ger, where are you?"
     "...ger?"
      "should i be worried?"
     "germany,"
     "germany?"
     "this isn't funny anymore, ger,"

~

         germany held on tight to his friend, clutching his heavy winter coat with a deadly grip. the young boy's eyes were red and puffy, the blue of his eyes barely visible by his tear streaked face. his breathing was rapid, but not as fast and unnatural as before.

        there was so much he wanted to tell russia. there was so much he needed to explain to him. but his words - they were stuck in his throat, unable to reach past the edge of his tongue. 'don't waste your words,' they always tell you. as if there was a limit for expressing yourself, a limit for your voice.

       but germany never had any words to begin with. he never had a voice. he was a mute countryhuman. it's ridiculous. but there was nothing he could do about it. the aryan was  forever trapped in a barrier in which he would not be able to communicate easily with anybody. there were very few people who accepted him. one of them, probably the most important to him of them all; his best friend, russia.