bits of my mind

untitled pt. 2 (gerpol)

literally a part two of the chapter untitled

TW: injury

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Poland unlocked the door, pulling off his tie as he stepped into the house. "Niemcy, I'm back- co do kurwy?"

The sight of a messy living room greeted Poland. Something was terribly wrong; Germany liked everything neat and organised, this was unlike him. Chairs were turned over, photo frames were lying face down and there was broken glass scattered all over the floor.

Picking his way carefully to the middle of the room where a few glass bottles and the glass shards lay, he realised in horror that dark crimson blood coated the sharp edges. He immediately dropped the glass back onto the floor and stood up, noticing the blood smears all across the floor.

"Niemcy?" he called out again, following the trail. He followed it to their shared bedroom, where it continued, leading into the room.

Cautiously, he opened the door to see Germany sleeping in a foetal position, blood covering one of his feet. Part of the sheets under him was stained red as blood continued trickling down the cut on his foot.

"Mój drogi," Poland murmured, "What happened here?" He carefully shifted Germany so he could have a closer look at his foot, accidentally jolting the said country awake. Germany yanked his foot away, face pale and eyes full of raw terror. He said nothing as he withdrew into a ball, unable to recognise Poland.

"Niemcy, mój misio, it's me, Polska- Polen," Poland soothed, climbing onto the bed and reaching out to Germany. Germany only recoiled from Poland, shrinking against the wooden bed frame. His breath hitched and he let out a little whimper, akin to a frightened child.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, koteczek," Poland whispered. "You're injured. Can I fix it up for you?"

Germany squeezed his eyes shut, pushing back as far as he could. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't see. He thrashed around a little as Poland got nearer, hoping that he was dreaming.

The Polish man felt around for his lover's glasses, slipping it onto Germany's face gently. "Open your eyes, kochanie, it's just me," Poland coaxed, rubbing Germany's shoulder soothingly.

Slowly, Germany peered at the taller man, uncurling himself a little. "Polen?" he mumbled, before he started crying, inhaling big gulps of air as he shivered. "Oh no, no, no don't cry, shhh," Poland sighed, pulling Germany into his lap and hugging his partner.

Poland ran his fingers soothingly through Germany's hair with one hand and wiped the tears off with the other, whispering sweet nothings as he attempted to calm Germany down. He had no idea what had made Germany so spooked, but it didn't matter; he just wanted him to feel better. He pulled Germany closer, not caring if the blood stained his clothes.

When Germany finally stopped crying, Poland motioned at his foot. "Can I treat that? It's going to be infected if nothing is done about it."

Germany nodded and Poland retrieved a first-aid kit they kept by the bed, lifting the German man's foot up. "I'm going to disinfect the wound, it's going to hurt but I'll be gentle, alright?" Poland warned, pouring some iodine on a cotton pad.

Poland dabbed at the cut carefully, making Germany tense up and jerk his foot back. The wound burned terribly, it felt like the glass was still stabbing at his sole.

"I'll be quick, give me another five seconds," Poland persuaded, reaching out. Germany extended his leg, grimacing in pain. "Five seconds."

Staying true to his words, Poland swiped the cotton along the edges of the cut, finishing up. "Good job Niemcy, we're done with disinfecting, I just have to make sure that there aren't any glass shards left in there before I can wrap it up, we don't want glass in the cut when it heals, do we?" he praised, wiping off the excess iodine and looking for any fragments of the broken bottle.

Germany nodded, leaning back as Poland began wrapping the bandages gently but firmly around his foot. The said country then gave him a kiss on the forehead and picked him up, moving him to the desk chair. "I'm going to clean up a little, get some rest. Call me if you need anything," Poland said, stripping the sheets off the bed and leaving the room.

Poland shoved the stained sheets into the washing machine and set it on its cycle, before sweeping up the glass and righting the lopsided furniture and photo frames. When he returned to the room, he found Germany snoozing on the chair. He smiled, setting down new sheets and tucking Germany under the blanket.

Germany arose to the sensation of being set down onto the bed and he turned around to face Poland, who was in the process of taking his glasses off. "Tired?" Poland asked, cupping Germany's face in his hands.

"Ja, stay with me, please," Germany replied, yawning wearily as he felt Poland spoon him from behind. "Go to sleep, I'll get dinner for us later," Poland told him, kissing the nape of Germany's back.

A moment of silence, then, "Thank you, Polen."

"Anything for you, misio," Poland returned, putting an arm over Germany's waist as he listened to Germany's rhythmic breathing turn into light snoring.