𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑬《 Philippines CountryHumans AU 》

viii.

TW :// Slight manipulation

[Please remember that this is just fanfiction and I am in no way, shape, or form, stereotyping the people of an entire race.]

Martial softened his eyes at the sight of his little brother's room. Walking up to it, he stood in front of the wooden door. He lifted a hand and knocked on it thrice, silently waiting for Philip to open it.

"Hello?" Philip peaked through the door. Realizing it was Martial, he opened it fully. "Kuya? What do you need?"

"Nothing, it's just-" Martial paused, carefully choosing his words. "I noticed how you tensed up yesterday when Mal said that he would accompany you everywhere. Are you... Are you comfortable? With all this?"

Philip blinked. Ah, did Martial notice his change of expression? He was really observant. "Ah, it's alright. I uhm..." Trailing off, Philip looked away.

Furrowing his brows, Martial took a step towards his little brother and hugged him. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Y-Yeah, so you don't have to worry," Philip tried to push Martial away, but the taller country's grip only tightened. However, his hold was somewhat gentle, which comforted Philip.

He had forgotten what it felt like to have this fuzziness in his chest. It was... nice. Like a fresh breath of air.

"Come on, you don't have to lie. I'm your brother." he says softly. "You can trust me."

Trust?

...

Can Philip really trust his brother? Ame mentioned that Mal accused Martial of being his killer.

Did Martial murder him?

Ah... but his hold is so gentle right now.

"Okay.." Philip replies slowly. Martial led him to his bed and sat him down before following after. Placing a hand on Phil's shoulder, the older male smiled in reassurance. "Go on."

"It's just-... I hate it."

Martial's eyes widened.

"I hate how the guards would never leave me alone. Every second, I'm being watched, and- and for once, I thought that Mal was considerate. I thought he was against the idea of bodyguards-" Phil rants, and Martial listens.

Martial never listened before. He never thought that someone as quiet as Philip would have a literal war raging in his head. Just like that morning when he had discovered Philip sleeping soundly in his bed, his 'revival', he was astonished.

"-but he wasn't. In fact, he- he seemed to want to be another one of my guards!" He exclaimed. "I think it may have been in the heat of the moment, but people... people show their true colors when they're angry," he finishes quietly.

Silence followed, and Martial found himself speechless. Speechless because Philip, his baby brother, his life, his everything, had finally spilled his secrets to him. He trusted him, despite everything.

Martial always noticed the glances Philip would send him. Those glances, always calculating, like he was a surgeon inspecting a gash before removing debris. He was looking him up and down, before going back to whatever he was doing. Martial didn't know why he would do that, but it made sense now.

He thinks I killed him.

But he still trusts me.

Because why would a brother kill another?