I Don't Believe It's There: PruCan

Blood

Gilbert's (Prussia's) POV

I groaned and rolled over. I was in my bed. I don't remember getting here. I don't remember how I got here. Wasn't I at the bar with France and Spain? God, I felt terrible; and it wasn't from the hangover. It couldn't just be from that.

My door was slightly ajar. I was about to get up, but erupted into a fit of coughs and hacks. My throat was sore and eyes stung. As I spat a wad of mucus in the trashcan, I realized that I might've caught something. Was it even possible for a country to be sick? My door open slightly more as Matthew peeked his head out. "Gil? You awake?"

Matthew was over? I squinted, "How did I get home?" My head hurt trying to remember.

"I found you walking in the rain," Matthew sat on the edge of my bed, "Then I took you home."

"I'm sorry you had to do that."

He frowned. "Its okay, but are you okay?" He leaned over and put a hand on my forehead. The simple cold touch quickly went away as he withdrew his hand, as if he touched a hot fireplace. "Ouch! You're burning!"

"Really?" I put a hand on my own forehead, being relieved by the lower temperature difference in my hand. "Yeah, I'm pretty warm."

"I think you've got a fever. I figured you got sick. That's what everyone's been telling me."

I raised an eyebrow, "'Everyone'?"

He nodded, "France told me something was off about you, along with Germany and Spain..."

My eyes widened. Since when did he have the time to talk to them? "Wait. How long was I asleep?"

"You slept through two nights."

How was this happening? I got drunk, was taken home, then passed out for two days? Nothing was making sense. "So then it's the week day... Ahh shit. I have paper work."

I tried getting up, but Matthew put a gentle hand on my shoulder. "No Gil. Don't strain yourself. You need to rest."

"But Matt I-" I was about to object, but Matthew gave me a look, a serious look that stopped me.

Then he dropped a bomb that changed everything. "Your king. King Frederick. He died. Your country is falling apart right now."

I felt like this was a dream. No. A nightmare. My country... It was dying? "But... Where are his heirs?"

Matthew looked tired, almost depressed. "Assassinated, just like the King was. Other countries are taking this chance to take over."

I struggled to get up, pushing Matthew's hand away, "Well I have to fight back! I have to!" My head was spinning. In all my life, I've seen nations rise, and fall. Nations that fall, well... they disappear. They leave existence and are forgotten, like they were never there. That can't happen to my country! No way was I letting that happen!

"No Gilbert! You're weak," Matthew objected. "It would just be harder on you and your country."

"I'd rather die trying than lay in bed!" I spat venomously. "Let me up! I need to protect my count-"

Another cough attack hit me like a missile, and I hacked into my arm, warm slimy fluids hitting my arm. I was immediately nauseated. I didn't know so much mucus could be stuck in my throat. But when I look at the arm I coughed into, an alarm went off in my chest. It wasn't just mucus. I just coughed up large amounts of blood that now stained my sleeve. I wanted to scream, but covered my mouth. It looked like a just coughed up half of my organs.

My world disappeared around me and my lightheadedness came back. As everything faded into blackness, I could've sworn I heard someone weeping. I couldn't faint, not now. Please, if there's a God, let me help. Let me fight.