Rusger Oneshots

Kiss It All Better

I am sorry for not updating this I had exams, I still have exams :')))

And stress equals venting and that equals making my characters suffer as an outlet so that I don't die (You will see this in the story- the theme of 'I'm going to die hecc-')

Anyway this is the Sequel to Bleeding Out, which was an alternate storyline of Cutting, from Angst Week!

8000 words long boy I hope you guys are ready for the angst here have a chimken nugget- *gives chimken nugget* :3

(I swear I'll repay the tears and the suffering of the bois with some fluff in the next oneshots jdbakfbak-)

Enjoy!!

Warnings: Healthy dose (Not) of crying, mentions of past abuse, past cutting. No canon Russia and Germany were harmed during the writing of this oneshot. Instructions unclear tried to give the characters emotions and storylines and accidentally gave them mental breakdowns-

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It was night, but Russia couldn't sleep. He stared blankly at the wall, laying on his side on the edge of the bed, back turned to the other person in bed with him who was also facing the opposite direction. They've been sleeping like this since he got back from the hospital, and hardly talked to each other.

He knew Germany was asleep from his breathing, and tried his hardest not to move from discomfort in fear of waking him up. It was so quiet, and even though it was nowhere near cold at all, he was curled up under the blanket with his arms to his chest. It still wasn't as warm as if Germany was laying against him, or even just slightly touching him.

Russia sighed softly, fidgeting in his position again. Why couldn't he just go to sleep, all he had to do was just close his eyes and maybe count sheep or something. He squeezed his eyes shut in defiance of his body, hoping that the darkness behind his eyelids would finally get him somewhere closer to sleep. It just made him more aware that he wasn't sleeping.

He heard some shuffling behind him, and then realized that Germany's breathing was quickened, turning into frantic gasps and whimpers. A nightmare, he was so familiar with all his behaviours, it was like reading himself. Russia turned over to look at him, just in time to see his scrunched up, unconsciously pained face for a few seconds before his golden eyes flew open and he sat up, hands grabbing at empty air.

That face, it brought him back instantly to the bathroom floor, blood seemingly everywhere and that razor glinting on the floor. He immediately felt his heart sank when he realized what Germany could be dreaming about. His boyfriend scrubbed at his tear-stained face, still gasping for air as he came to his senses.

Russia slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position as well, watching him sniff and push back his messy hair hanging over his eyes, empty arms wrapping around himself after a while when he shivered. He wanted to scoot over and hold him close, share their warmth and comfort him. But how could he do that when he was the cause of his problems in the first place?

Their eyes met, and Germany's mouth turned into a weak frown. Russia could only stare back, feeling more guilt and sadness built up. They hadn't actually talked about what happened, and everyday he could feel the tension just rise higher and higher. He had snapped the razor in half and threw it into the trash after he came back home, but the voice in his head was quietly asking him to release that stress again, drawing his attention to the cabinet that he knew still had the box of remaining razors. He wanted to shove it down into the trash as well.

A weight suddenly lifted off the bed, and Russia watched silently as Germany got up and walked away without a word, twisting the doorknob and letting himself out of the bedroom. Call him back, talk to him, a new, tiny voice whispered in his head, that Russia vaguely thought sounded like his boyfriend, before this whole mess started. Soft, gentle and careful, urging him to talk to him or even just stay in the same room for more than a few hours other than sleeping.