Cracked!GerIta. Not everyone makes it out of the war with their sanity.
Two one-shots on cracked!GerIta, one written for each character.
Picture not mine, APH not mine <3
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"Germany? Are you in here?" Italy slowly pushed open the door, cautious to startle the other man in case he was in there. He received no reply, but he thought he heard a sound in one of the dark corners of the room. Blindly, his fingers searched for the light switch on the wall before he gave up on the attempt, and just slowly entered the room, approaching the lump in the back of the room.
"Germany, is that you?" he called quietly, still not wanting to alarm the other man but wondering why he had yet to answer him. His only response was the sound getting louder, and as Italy drew closer he recognized it as the deep baritone chuckle of the blonde.
"Germany, what is it, what are you laughing about?" Finally close enough, he put one timid hand on the broad shoulder of his companion, who was quick to whirl around and grasp his wrist in a hold strong enough to crack bone if he weren't careful.
"Germany! Germany, it's me, Italy! You are okay, please let go of me, it hurts!" He struggled against the grip, frantic to remove his hand before it was crunched together and shattered. "Germany, it's me, it's Italy!"
"Italien?" he repeated, not loosening his hold in the least. His eyes were unfocused, not seeing the other man or the room or anything else in front of him. He was somewhere far enough away that Feliciano did not truly know if what he was saying was actually reaching him. "Italien, bist du das?"
"Yes, yes, si Germania, it's your Italy, please let go of me, this hurts!"
He was slow to respond, but it was enough for the Italian to wrench his hand away as the hold was gradually relaxed. He rubbed my wrist and stared at Ludwig, and he stared at something beyond Feliciano in return.
"Italien..." he repeated, as if he was not entirely sure who that was; "Italien, haben wir all diese Leute getötet?"
Feliciano wasn't entirely sure what he had said – even years with him and his people had not taught me enough German – but he thought he could remember the word "getötet" being used around him before, although it was with a sinking feeling that he remembered in what context.
Before he had a chance to utter anything in return, Germany began laughing again. It was the sound of a dying man, a decaying soul, and it would haunt Feliciano, he was sure of it. His gaze was unclear and far off, and his voice continually cracked and hitched, and he seemed to stop breathing several times over, and Italy thought he might collapse. But then he would draw in a jagged, brutal breath, and take renewed force; he never stopped laughing, even when there was no air in his lungs to fuel it.
It was frightening to see him destroyed, terrifying to think of how to fix him, and crushing to realize the strongest man he knew could not defeat his own mind. Uneasily, Feliciano started laughing with him too, unsure of what else he could even do, just hoping that if he laughed it meant that Ludwig would stop sounding like he was about to die....
