Prove Me Wrong (Rusame)

Whats This

((For anyone wondering, yeah I changed the cover. Wattpad makes it all fuzzy so that's what it looks like hopefully more clear. There's a thing with these that you may notice.

Also, if you had any trouble with their accents, it's best to pronounce it out loud or comment and I will tell you. And there's things about panic attacks in here so if any of you all are sensitive to that read with caution and I can give a brief description at the end of the chapter.))

Germany's POV

I hadn't been home in a while.

Not since what had happened a few days ago.

"Poland, I'll be back later, " I heard Czech call from the entrance. He spoke loudly and it snapped me from my thoughts and I jumped. Poland set his hand on my shoulder and I looked to him. Even his gentle touch had startled me a little.

"Okay!" He called back to Czech, speaking in a gentler tone when he saw how much I had jumped in the past few seconds. I was thankful for the thought but embarrassed there was a need for it. I shouldn't be jumpy, I was okay. At least, at the moment I was safe. We both were. I had no logical reason to be this on edge now, since a few days had passed.

"Ukochany, you've been like this ever since you came over, what is wrong?" Poland turned to me, concern in his eyes. His tone was low, quiet and steady, no clear drastic or sternness in it. My eyebrows slanted downward at his expression and I couldn't help but look at his scars. He had so many of them, and he couldn't hide them all. Even on his hands were the faint traces of healed wounds, more faded, but still there.

"Nozing, " I lowered my head, to hide my face. Lying to him was not something I wanted to do, but I couldn't tell him the truth, either. I didn't want to, no one could know. Poland the most. I need to lock that house and burn it down. But what if that doesn't help? What if that's what's keeping him in? What if I burn it and he gets free? Could he find me? Could he find Poland? What if he causes another war? What if more countries suffer? What if more die? All because of me.

"Niemcy, niemcy, your shaking," Poland took my hands, holding them tightly. His voice was muddled, distant and his hold was just as far away. The pressure of his hands where like a phantom's, there but not all at the same time.

The thought of a phantom made me shake more. My head started feeling light and my vision started to darken. My chest tightened and my throat started to burn.

A sudden pain made me gasp and snatched me from my thoughts. Poland had dug his nails into my skin and immediately released when he saw I had noticed.

"I'm sorry, you were going into another panic attack. I panicked!" Poland explained rubbing the crescent marks and then held my hands again. I was suddenly aware of my fast shallow breathing, my heart racing and the beads of sweet on my forehead. Hurting me like he did kind of seemed extreme, and I knew he wouldn't normally do that unless he had great reason to. And I have no right to even be mad at him, not after everything I must have put him through when I ran to him in a panic and refused to speak for a day.

"Ukochany, " Poland grabbed my attention once more, "I want you to try and focus on my hands, okay? You feel me squeeze them, you squeeze them back."

After a moment I nodded. My thoughts came back, swiftly carrying me off once more.

Poland squeezed my hands.

I had been at my house, things as normal as they hand been. Music played in the background as I read a book in the living room. Everything had been fine, peaceful, even. Had been.

I squeezed his hands.

Past tense was horrible. Especially when talking about the good, knowing that it was no longer there.