bits of my mind

apocalypse (gerpol)

gonna preface this by saying i'm so sorry that i am unable to fulfil the requests made on this book. been busy with commissions and exams lately and i have neither the time nor motivation to get stuff that aren't top priority done.

again, i'm sorry, but i need to put being paid and passing above writing fanfics. 

but without further ado, here's a 4060 word fanfic, tw for: death, suicide and mentions of suicide. this is just angst. no comfort in this today because i was trying to antagonise a friend lol

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"Did they get you?" Poland asked, shutting the door behind him. He was breathing heavily, a frown etching lines on his dirt-streaked face. Germany dropped his bag on the floor, flopping down beside it. "What?"

"Your arm," Poland gestured, getting increasingly worried. He reached out to take the other's hand, pulling the sleeve up. "No, just caught it on something and tore the sleeve. Now that you mention it, it does hurt like a bitch."

Germany winced, pulling the hoodie off himself.

"That looks serious."

"I'll survive," the German shrugged, splashing his wound with some water and bandaging it up.

"Painkillers?" The cupboard creaked as the other man opened it, rifling around for the orange pill bottle. Germany shook his head, closing his eyes and flopping down onto the sofa. "I'd better not. It's nothing serious, I'd rather save it for a more serious injury."

"Like, if I fall from a height and break something, or-"

"Don't." Poland turned around, closing the cupboard slowly. "Stop."

Germany stopped talking, biting his lower lip and casting his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

The Polish man shook his head, joining his partner on the tattered upholstery. "It's fine. I just don't want to think about losing you, or seeing you seriously injured. We... we have to make it to the safe zone. We have to. You'll finish your studies and we'll get a job and buy a home and everything will be alright."

"We will. But this is home enough," Germany said, turning around. "It's not safe but... I don't know. I hope I die before you do."

"Enough," Poland grimaced. "Drop it. Let's not think about that. It was a close shave but we're alright."

"Okay," Germany responded, and Poland pulled him into a hug, burying his face in the former's hair. "I smell like shit."

"You're fine," the latter reassured. "But if you really think so you can always take a shower."

"I don't know, maybe we shouldn't. We don't know how long the resources here will last, and I don't want to waste them," Germany sighed. "I can survive without showering for a few days."

"We're going to be leaving this place tomorrow anyway," Poland reminded him, pulling out a stained tourist map from his back pocket. "We've already taken whatever we can find from this area, anyway. We have to keep moving, we can't stay here forever."

"Okay, I'll go. I'll wash our clothes while I'm at it."

"Go ahead," the Pole nodded. "See you in a bit."

As soon as Germany disappeared into the bathroom and the sound of running water was heard, Poland let out a loud sigh. They were running low on ammunition. Every day they spent outside of the safe zone increased their chances of death by a significant amount. Knives and daggers were always an option, but considering the close proximity they require... he shook his head. It was too risky.