I don't own Hetalia if I did it would be horrible
(A/N: Some words aren't capitalized and there aren't any quotations around Feliciano's spoken words for effect. I was trying to stress the fact that it wasn't his point of view per say, but his point of thought.)
.
Shift.
sometimes when he closes his eyes, he's drowning.
sinking that much further whenever he managed to struggle upwards.
the sea becomes the sky and the sky becomes the sea and he doesn't know where the water began, or if it even began at all.
the water fills his mouth.
He opens his eyes.
It's quiet.
The hum of the air conditioner, the occasional page turning, the scratch of a pen on paper.
But quiet.
Ludwig was at his desk, filling out some form that he should probably know of, but who pays attention in those meetings anyway?
He closes his eyes again, but the ocean is gone.
He doesn't dream of the ocean, but god he wishes he did.
Some nights aren't bad at all, when his dreams are bright and happy, filled with cats and Germany.
Some are very, very bad. He hears the screaming first, and then the rain. The rain turns into blood and he sees the death everywhere, the death he caused. The men he sent into battle. The blood covers his hands, seeps into his eyes.
He wakes up with tears on his face, as well as a pair of concerned blue eyes.
Sometimes, he swears he can see the ocean in those eyes.
He likes to imagine the ocean when he eats. It's easier than looking at the food he's ingesting, easier not to think of it as numbers.
Later, as he bends over the porcelain bowl, he imagines the ocean pouring from his stomach.
He tries to imagine the ocean while Germany yells at him, asking him "Why? Why are you doing this to yourself?"
Feliciano wishes he knew.
Ludwig clings to him that night, as if he were afraid he might fade away.
The ocean doesn't come.
Ludwig treats him like glass, something precious and fragile.
He doesn't mind.
He makes love to him that night, so gently, whispering "You're beautiful" into every inch of his skin.
Feliciano cries.
Ludwig holds his hand as he walks into the therapy building.
Why are you doing this? he whispers.
"Because I love you too much to see you drown."
He tells the therapist everything. Not everything. He does not learn his name. He does not want to.
He tells him he wants control. He wants to be thin.
He loves Ludwig.
He loves Ludwig.
He loves Ludwig.
He tells the same thing to Ludwig. The therapist with a cloud on his chin tells him to. He does not know why, but Ludwig cries. It felt like an earthquake as he shook.
Feliciano wakes up early. Normally not, but today he thought he would. He would.
He makes breakfast for two. It is not for two.
It is for one and a half.
The half looks like a feast to him.
He walks out of the room with the man who has a cloud on his chin.
"How was it?"
He does not know.
He closes his eyes that night and the ocean is everything. He tries to breathe, but his lungs are not working.
The ocean floor is below, covered in darkness.
Treasure must be buried there, he thinks.
Summer. The heat is deadly. Can we go to the beach? He asks.
He does not want to go to the beach.
"Yes." Ludwig answers.
He does not want to either. He is scared.
The waves beat against the shoreline.
Ludwig brings ice cream. He loves ice cream. He does not want to eat it. He does.
The waves beat against the shoreline.
I understand, He thinks.
I understand.
Later, when he closes his eyes, he's floating on top of the waters.
His eyes are trained on the sky, and he realizes it's nowhere near the colour of the water.
He turns, to float on his stomach.
His palms met wet sand instead of empty water.
Ludwig wakes up first. Always first. Feliciano cannot wake up before 12.
"It's a sin" he remembers him saying.
He makes breakfast for two.
Two.
Always two.